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2026-09-16: Kaitou Saint Prince, Skeleton Hero, and Some Gremlin Rando Save the Day

2026-09-18T07:10:54Z

Tanyuu:

*'''Log: Kaitou Saint Prince, Skeleton Hero, and Some Gremlin Rando Save the Day'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Umie Akabane]], [[Goro Akechi]], [[Kurou Ryouhara]]
*'''Where:''' Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4
*'''OOC Date:''' September 16, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' January 10, 2013
*'''Summary''': ''Hana Fukabi has nothing to fear, since Kaitou Saint Prince and Skeleton Hero are here to save the day! Also, some gremlin princess? Geez, guys, fit a genre for your show or get out!''

----

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 1 - Challenge Level 2 ===========================================-
| Card: Lot: Sitcom Situation |
| Approach Options: Guts or Understanding |
| Conditions: Fairy - Subtract 1 Fatigue on success., Heartening - Guts Up |
| L1, and Terrifying - Guts Down L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

A comfy couch; a soothingly-painted wall. Cognitions are all around in the
audience as one of the outer studios films a sitcom!

There's a laugh track and everything, which might be unsettling because what
it chooses to laugh at is entirely inscrutable. There's also a studio
audience... which happens to be made up of demons who are happy to just
watch, apparently.

The Cognitions--little Shadowy guys in costumes--have heartfelt problems and
require care and kindness. Alternately, if you want to fake it, the hammier
you can get the better. Either way, there's no escaping Security--bigger
Cognitions with big hats--without playing along for a little while. Not only
that, but the demons won't tolerate their show being interrupted. As you
watch, you see one of the demons crushing... wait, is that a Mindless
Shadow? Yes, a Cowardly Maya, a blob of a Shadow with a blue mask, is
smashed under Jack Frost's heel.

If you're really lucky, they'll point you on your way towards the main
Producer's Complex! The demons in the audience might even give rewards for
great performances!

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Blackbird's Bite toward Lot: Sitcom Situation! Bravery and Focus!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It's all well and good to feel sorry for yourself, even if you're Umie Akabane. Eventually, though, you have to keep going, because that's the sort of person you are.

Hana Fukami isn't going to get out of this Kingdom if she did that, and she needs people like Umie to get her to see that. She doesn't need to see a sad, scared Umie who isn't in control.

So now, Umie is.... here. Frustratingly alone, though, if Kurou (or Akechi, for that matter) manages to intercept her before going in, she'll graciously allow for it. Alternately, if they intercept her now, she'll... do the same, actually.

Which leads to now: a 155cm young woman, standing with her arms akimbo, the oversized white jacket hanging down to her mid-thigh, black leggings and red sneakers underneath, matching the red mask across her face, outlined by that white hood.

"I'm here to supervise. This set has been way too disorganized. How are we going to get big ratings if we can't keep those shadows under control? The other shows are beating us as we speak." She points to the Jack Frost with a red fingernail. "Why can't you all be like him? That shadow has to be twice his size. That sort of go-get-them attitude is exactly the sort of thing we need around here..."

As the beefy security demons peers at the curiously bossy young woman, Umie folds her arms. "You wish to question my creditials because I'm a woman? Studies show shows like this need a woman's touch. We need emotions, pathos, struggle, a climax. People need to cry and feel good about themselves by the end. Oh, my name?" She sighs, glancing away, tapping a nail to her chin. ".... You really don't know who I am...? It figures, that a studio like this wouldn't know..."

It's a load of BS, but from the connotations she was getting during her last visit here... it seems like a way to put herself at an advantage.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
A hand on his chin, a Princely figure gets the lay of his land from his perch atop the studio lighting, as he scans the audience, then the security guards. "Hmm. Well I could always play on their terms."

As he focuses on one Security Guard in particular, "But where would be the fun in that?"

The Night We Stood - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTv61MFoyMQ

Hanging on with one arm he balances something lightly atop a big hat of the security Shadow Umie is tangling with, while winking at her behind a mask, he lets himself drop from the lighting, aiming a spinning kick at the Guard's head, sending him reeling onto the stage, as he pinwheels into the demons on stage.

"Look out! He's got a gun!"

And indeed, the gun which he'd propped up on them clatters onto the stage from the Security Shadow. A terrible disintegration ray looking thing.

"How dare you try to stop the show, these creatures have ''real'' problems that deserve kindness and dignity- I- Kaitou Saint Prince- won't allow this!"

Cue... the impromptu fight scene as he gets rushed by security!?

Did he just CHANGE THE WHOLE GENRE OF THE SHOW!?
</poem>

MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Guts toward Lot: Sitcom Situation! Base!

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
It is still part of Kurou's assignments to look after Umie... but perhaps it has become something else that drives him to keep a close eye on her. Something more than shinobi honor or his loyalty and concern for Shiryuu and how Umie may relate to the shihaisha's future well being. Something that has to do with fuzzy blankets and home cooked meals what turns a house into a home.

He'd like her to be able to return to it.

... Which is how Kurou ends up on the set, hidden in the shadows, with the chain of his weapon about to loop around one of the security guard's necks just as Umie scolds them.

Even if unnoticed, Kurou is caught in the scolding crossfire...!

They need emotions and pathos... Things that Kurou's not terribly good at. Because he isn't a woman, or just because he's Kurou...? He begins to retreat back into the shadows where he can't ruin this when...

The genre changes?!

... Well. No need to remain quiet, then.

Kurou finally announces himself by way of Gashadokuro screeching onto the studio and trying to devour security.

Some of the Shadow audience may also get caught in that terrible maw.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Overkill toward Lot: Sitcom Situation! Specialty!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Lot: Sitcom Situation - Round 1 =======================================-
Goro Akechi Guts Success
Guts Base Fatigue: 0 Morale: 2
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Guts Success
Blackbird's Bite Bravery and Focus Fatigue: 0 Morale: 3
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Guts Success
Overkill Specialty Fatigue: 0 Morale: 3
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Fairy-0, Heartening-2, and Terrifying-2
Final Conditions: Heartening-1 and Terrifying-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 1/6 |= | ===================================================-
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> When it comes to demons, one of the main principals Umie has learned is to maintain your hold. Might can matter, but a demon's size and muscle can be upended by another, smaller, more clever demon.

You must be that clever little demon.

As focused as Umie is on maintaining her hold on the demons playing security guards, she almost misses Akechi's careful balancing; the chain of Kurou's weapon gives her that polite reminder to look up, where she sees Akechi's wink.

She fights that little urge to cackle back; she has a role to maintain, after all.

She'll run with it.

"The legendary Kaitou Saint Prince!" she exclaims, feigning surprise...

.... until the Gashadokuro makes that surprise a reality. "Ryouhara-kun!" She's surprised, but secretly glad; with the two of them, it *would* be a lot easier, wouldn't it?

The demon audience is certainly loving these twists.

Picking up the gun (if it's not been picked up by Akechi or one of the guards), Umie tries to gain the two's attention, with a nod towards the door, pointed out by the helpful Jack Frost, who gives Kurou a thumbs-up. "That's an excellent skel-Hee-ton, hee hoo!"

</poem>
MONAD: Goro Akechi has drawn a new Challenge!

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 2 - Challenge Level 2 ===========================================-
| Card: Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff! |
| Approach Options: Understanding or Guts |
| Conditions: Heartening - Guts Up L1, Magnetic - Charm Up L2, Scary - Guts |
| Down L1, and Terrifying - Guts Down L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The group has arrived at the Producer's Complex, a big brown building with
lots of windows. On the bottom floor is reception: a desk near the elevator
that has a sign detailing what's on each floor. The bottom floor being
Reception, the next is the News Studio, Offices, Security HQ, and then of
course the Producer's Floor. However, simply going where you like is going
to be a problem...

Because this floor is absolutely crawling with security Cognitions. The
secretary Cognition has a nice computer and a nice hairstyle, but is as
small as the rest. The Security cognitions are twice as big Shadowy
creatures with suspenders and cigars. However, they're all following orders
from one Cognition with a big hat.

If you can convince that one that you belong here, maybe you can get through
this without a fight! With the Mindless Shadows and Demons they seem to be
dealing with, a bold story about how you're Shadow-Exterminating Specialists
or Demon Slayers might be just the ticket... or maybe you can just
sympathise with him about how hard it is to fight those lion wheels.

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
You should be thankful Kurou. Akechi saved you from an evening of actually managing ''feelings'' on Live Television.

Or at least, he'd find that to be a terrible time. "Fear not, Citizen." He replies to Umie's prompt, "You're safe now, while I'm about."

As he immediately makes for the gun. "Oh no you don't!" As he picks up his gun and rolls, before shooting one of the Security Guards center mass.

And kicking them right into Gashadokuro's open mouth.

"Haha- it seems you have a bone to pick with these terrorists as well, Ninja Necromancer!"

If the audience gets devoured, well, that's the peril of being in the front row.

You don't sit at the front row in a water park without expecting to 'get wet'. In the aftermath, as they join up. "Well well. What say we call a truce, for the moment, Ryouhara-san?"

He says cheerily, "Seeing as my 'Justice' currently seems to align with your own." Shouldn't he be more upset??? After all, they made off with a Joker of Umie's creepy ex-coworker-

No actually it's entirely understandable as to why he might treat this as a minor disagreement between them, in that respect.

As they sneak in towards the Producer's Complex, he grabs a pamphlet with a map of the studio, reviewing it- before hand it off to the two of them with a nod.

As they then move throughout the floor well- there's a bunch of Security Cognitions wandering around on set pathways, back and forth, back and forth with maddening regularity, but there comes a point when they can't hide.

Because it's just a big open room with a small Cognition with a big hat, surrounded by other Security Cognitions.

With a moment of weighing the situation, he nods, before turning to Kurou, "I do believe this situation calls for the storied techniques of the Ryouhara." He smiles cheerfully, "I'm certain your Princess would like to witness this as well."

Is Akechi forcefully recruiting Umie to double team Kurou!?

... Absolutely.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Some little demons are clever. Some are ruthless. Gashadokuro is certainly the latter... with Akechi's help in feeding the monster. Ninja Necromancer...

"Ah... it is... Skeleton Hero, I think."

At least have the confidence to sell some of this, Kurou...! Akechi and Umie both have to pick up the performative slack, but thankfully for Kurou, they do certainly manage. At least Jack Frost approves. Kurou raises his arm up like Jack Frost is wont to do.

"Hee ho," he repeats, deadpan.

On the matter of a truce, his head tilts at Akechi. "... But I have no present quarrel with you." It can hardly be a truce without ongoing hostilities, right...? (Maybe the truce is for ''you'', Kurou!) As long as this prince is no threat to Umie, then they are on the same side, and Kurou offers no objection.

When they can no longer rely on stealth, Kurou begins to reach for his weapon when Akechi prompts him. This makes Kurou pause, brow furrowing in deep consideration. Most of his techniques aren't for ''witnessing'', but...

"Diplomate, do not negotiate," he murmurs to himself, as a lesson he once observed of Shiryuu's encounter with a cop. He pieces together the chatter he has been hearing, and takes a single step toward the big hat Cognition.

He must be bold, and speak of sanctions. He must not give --

"... My apologies. What was this about a lion wheel...?"

They sounded quite annoyed by it... and if the Cognition should go off about it, then Kurou will nod along, listening quietly but intently to the rant as long as the Cognition sees fit to rave about it.

It would be impolite to interrupted once the Cognition gets going, after all.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Shut Up and Nod toward Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff!! Amrita!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'Fear note, Citizen.'
'"Haha- it seems you have a bone to pick with these terrorists as well, Ninja Necromancer!'

Oh, you're doing this on purpose, Akechi, and Umie knows it.

"I was doing just fine," Umie says, attempting to highlight the farce with a wink before she pouts and folds her arms. "I don't need a prince to save me. But I'll permit you to, just in case." (Please get the hint that this is an act, Akechi! Mostly. She *does* want you to come along. Please don't leave her high and dry, Kurou will likely follow you in order to appear polite!)

What a tangled web they all weave...

Flash forward to: now. Umie takes the pamphlet from Akechi with a nod to thanks. "... Let's see..." She itches underneath the edge of her faintly glittery red mask (this will be a mistake her apartment will pay for until the end of time), glancing up occasionally to follow the two's conversation.

'I'm certain your Princess...'

OH UMIE WALKED RIGHT INTO THAT ONE.

She sighs, throwing up her hands. "Finnnnnnne. "

This shall serve as her story for the evening(?). Everyone appreciates a little bit of theatre, right?

It'll set the stage nicely for Kurou's quiet understanding, and Akechi's Big Prince Energy.

</poem>
MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Guts toward Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff!! Base!
MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Guts toward Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff!! Base!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff! - Round 2 =============================-
Goro Akechi Guts Failure
Guts Base Fatigue: 1 Morale: 2
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Guts Failure
Guts Base Fatigue: 1 Morale: 3
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Understanding Failure
Shut Up and Nod Amrita Fatigue: 1 Morale: 3
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Heartening-1, Magnetic-2, Scary-2, and Terrifying-1
Final Conditions: Magnetic-1 and Scary-1
-================================================= Party Result: Failure ====-
-==== Reach: 1/6 |= | ===================================================-
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
The 'Kaitou' looks taken aback as Kurou chooses a name, before chuckling heartily, "Of course, my mistake." He looks so cheerful over it!

And then he moves into the fray with swashbuckling aplomb.

"Oh I don't doubt that, I merely wanted to speed things along. Besides- a place like this makes me inclined to stir the pot a little." He replies to Umie, before Kurou answers that there's no quarrel, "... Truly?" Akechi seems genuinely startled, "Well... if that's the case, then I suppose there's no issue joining forces."

Rather quick to set aside his own 'beef' isn't he? Well that's easy when his beef was feigned all along.

Kurou strolls up to the Shadows, and the head Shadow starts nodding along, "Yeah, we've gotta bunch of 'em loose on the lot right now." He puffs on a cigar, INDOORS, before staring down Kurou.

"Big intruder problem." He waves his Cigar, and at once, the Security Shadows start sidling around to take more favorable position.

"Think ya can help us get a handle on that?"

And of course, that's when they try to jump Kurou. "...I know what you're thinking, Akabane-kun." Akechi says to her, "And I take absolutely no responsibility for this outcome... Now let's get in there."

The coming fight is more brutal than anyone might like, but over swiftly. Akechi's mask is a little cracked on one side, he's got soot all over his uniform, and the dust cloud in the room was huge.

And after coughing once from the dust, he manages to get out, "Worth it."

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has drawn a new Challenge!

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 3 - Challenge Level 2 ===========================================-
| Card: Newsfloor: Political Guests |
| Approach Options: Charm or Guts |
| Conditions: Annoying - Charm Down L2, Chest - Add 2 Item/Money/Gear., |
| Magnetic - Charm Up L2, Reaper - Add 1 Fatigue., and Scary - Guts Down L1 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The news floor is expansive. Is it bigger than the building outside? Don't
worry about it. Right now, your group has found themselves in a lovely
little section that involves a lounge with a big desk and a number of plush
chairs. A Cognition host--a little Shadowy guy with a bushy mustache and
neat hair--sits behind the desk. He turns to the group as you arrive.

"Ah!" Cognitive Chaki says, "My guests are here! Come on, sit down. We've
got a roundtable to discuss!"

You are not the only guests; there's a number of besuited
Cognition-shadow-men on the other side, looking very serious in their
business attire.

"This is a political show! Today's topics include 'The Producer: Savior or
Sensei?', 'Rebels: Threat or Menace?', 'Shadows: Invaders or Pests?', and
'Demons: Weird or Frightening?' I hope you're ready to debate the issues and
debate them hard!"

If you screw this one up, you're going to have a lot of very mad Security
cognitions down on you. But if you succeed, there might be extra rewards...
Whether by winning charism or the bravery to speak your mind, dazzle the
Cognitions!

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>If Akechi is quick to drop any concept of being foes, Kurou sees no reason to pursue the train of thought. But is he really so guilelessly going along with it like there's no reason for mistrust? If he's suspicious, he's hiding it well.

Then again, his face doesn't emote much.

Which is really only a small part of Kurou's problem when it comes to speaking with demons. Only once the battle is over does Kurou allow himself to break in composure to wrinkle his nose from the cigar smoke. He sneezes, politely, into his vest rather than into his own scarf. It's a frightfully dainty sound for a murderer.

"Akabane-san, are you all right?" He looks to Akechi, too, extending this question by proxy. But they all seem to be ready and able to move on...

TV studios are very confusing places, Kurou is learning.

"Mm... the Flower Talk host has to deal with many difficult things," he murmurs as they are sat down opposite Cognitive guests and promised political debate. His brow furrows at these topics.

"... These topics are presented with false dichotomies. The foundation of this debate is already logically compromised and lesser in academic value for it."

He might need some help before he ends up starting yet another physical altercation with security -- if not the debate guests outright.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie, finally sensing Akechi's surprise, gives him a slow, widening, sharply-edged open smile. "Skeleton Hero," she says, having quietly adopted the name, "is very bare bones when it comes to these sorts of things~"

... Which places Akechi in a proper position to observe, if he's looking, how Umie's expression turns from that crone's shark-like grin to a lady's cheer. "I'm perfectly fine, Ryouhara-kun. I'm sorry, I should have invited you on my plans instead of making you follow like this." The change is lightning *quick*.

As is her way of abandoning the delicate princess title by charging after the prince in battle! But first-- "Avoiding taking responsibility for your actions... how princely of you."

Umie's not about to let him go without at least *one* comment, before leaping into the frag to go after her roommate.

Was it worth it?

The cackling of the crow princess seems to agree, no matter how much she'll try to deny it minutes later as she's trying to fix her bent mask.

----

Kurou is not alone in finding the spatial dimensions of these spaces to be misleading. Already, the pamphlet is proving to be less useful than the Badb's own mental radar. ".... The self-importance of this man is clearly on another level," she murmurs dryly, following along.

Map or no, they'll need to play along with these little games, and sneak out later. Maybe, with Kaitou Saint Prince being interviewed, he'll command the spotlight!

As Umie tries to think of the proper lies to present, she is reminded, as Kurou speaks his own truth, of where her own would align.

"Nothing is ever as black and white as those in charge would like to claim," she says, opting for a truthful perspective. "Demons seem weird and frightening because they present a different view on morality than what people are used to." She crosses her legs. "Ask yourself this: who benefits from you thinking this way? To think of rebels as uniformly 'bad' and the producer as uniformly 'good'... the answer is clear to me."

She shrugs. "If you want to live in a world of black and white, it's your life. However, at some point, when you find yourself in the category of 'black', those lies you've told yourself aren't going to be so comforting, will they?"
</poem>

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Blackbird's Bite toward Newsfloor: Political Guests! Bravery and Focus!

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"Au Contraire...! It is the most 'Princely' quality I could have."

After all, when do the Aristocracy ever take responsibility for their failings anywhere worldwide?

Akechi at least ''seems'' alright. And in the aftermath, "Quite. Here." Shares some meat buns with the other two!? Here in the Metaverse, they're restorative and take care of any hunger pangs!

As they move on, the Prince takes his seat in a comfortable way, crossing one leg over another and folding his hands together as he listens. Kurou takes issue with the way the topics are presented, and he whispers back to him, "It is the way of television. Audiences don't often desire conversations with nuance that would cause uncomfortable introspection. They want extremes that do not challenge their worldview."

And then- "Well before I launch into it- I'd like for the audience to indulge me for a moment. For you see-"

Akechi then smiles and stands up, then with a theatrical gesture takes off his mask, which vanishes into blue flames. "-I'd like to introduce myself- I'm your surprise guest tonight, Goro Akechi. I apologize for the trick, but I do hope you find it a little fun. And- moving along."

-=-=-

"Hmm. Yes. Messianic delusions aside- I think we should see the Producer as- a Warning." He smiles politely, "Or perhaps a threat, against stepping out of line. After all, he does more than simply sign your checks... does he not?"

-=-=-

"You've made your perspective quite clear, but should we not take the Rebels as a call towards practicing our craft in a more independent manner? Even the majority of the public say that most television these days is low-effort 'schlop' that says absolutely nothing. If we are to make better art then-"

-=-=-

"The question I believe is more 'why' they have entered this Studio. And I have several theories on the matter..."

-=-=-

"Akabane-kun. While I agree with you on some level- let us be honest with our audience here." He pauses, as if about to say something quite profound, "Demons are very weird, but quite the entertaining conversationalists, don't you think? I believe myself to be something of an expert on this matter."

And just like that, he conjures a whole briefcase, which he opens to reveal a small mountain of Life Stones. Much larger than the brief case should entail...

... in fact, several spill out onto the floor as he does this.

"Never again shall I go wanting when they demand a life stone to establish communications at all.

-=-=-

It would have been easier to just ''not'' speak out against the status quo, but- you know, after spending infinite appearances on television program after television program just taking the path of least resistance...

... it feels good to enjoy this little stint of rebelling against the premise of the show.

</poem>
MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Smooth Talk toward Newsfloor: Political Guests! Focus and Friendliness!
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Guts toward Newsfloor: Political Guests! Base!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Newsfloor: Political Guests - Round 3 =================================-
Goro Akechi Charm Success
Smooth Talk Focus and Friendliness Fatigue: 2 Morale: 4
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Guts Success
Blackbird's Bite Bravery and Focus Fatigue: 2 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Guts Success
Guts Base Fatigue: 2 Morale: 4
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Annoying-2, Chest-0, Magnetic-1, Reaper-0, and Scary-1
Final Conditions: Annoying-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 2/6 |== | ===================================================-
-==== Loot So Far: ==========================================================-
Items: 1, Money: 1, Gear: 0
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Umie mentions she ought to have invited him, and Kurou glances down. "... I apologize for not making my presence more known. I was not sure if you would want my assistance, but I was... worried."

There are roles being played and masks being worn. Yet Kurou remains simply Kurou.

And a Kurou is good at fighting. Speaking and debate? Not so much. He speaks with his own conviction and belief, but that's only part of the equation, as Akechi helpfully points out. Kurou blinks wide, beginning to nod slowly in understanding, but stopping halfway when he realizes he does not, in fact, understand.

"But that would result in less comprehensive information and hurt learning efficiency..."

Yet Akechi is already off to the charming races, with Umie able to back up Kurou's own starting statement and spin it to something far more eloquent.

He claps his gloved hands quietly in respect and awe. He is listening. He is learning.

"... If you set such rules, you cannot be surprised if others should play by them..." he murmurs of Umie's thoughts. It is a simple, but core belief of Kurou's personal philosophy. People often make rules thinking they are exempt from them. They are not.

Akechi meets their opponents head on, and he would know, more than anyone, ''how'' to say things that captivate audiences and make for compelling TV. And if there was going to be any objection...

A cascade of life stones flows onto the floor.

"Today's topic now includes Life Stones in My Mouth: Five or Fifty?!" Kurou is about to open his mouth to object to this strange binary, but the mustached Shadowy guy is already grabbing fist fulls to munch on ravenously.

They get by without a fight this time.

</poem>
MONAD: Umie Akabane has drawn a new Challenge!

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 4 - Challenge Level 4 ===========================================-
| Card: Office: Impress the Boss! |
| Approach Options: Charm or Academics |
| Conditions: Annoying - Charm Down L2, Chest - Add 2 Item/Money/Gear., Hard |
| - Understanding Down L1, and Sublime - Proficiency Up L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

Office space! Carpeted floors, wooden cubicles and tables, and of course,
the ever-present haze of cigarette smoke. Cognitions--little Shadow-guys in
collared shirts--scurry around trying to show themselves hard at work.

But there's a /boss/ Cognition here now. He is just as short as the others,
but he has a combover of black hair and Shadowy scalp, a bigger cigar than
most of the others, and a desk in its own room.

"Oh!" a Cognition says. "You're the new team! The VP is waiting for you!"

The Vice President!

"He doesn't like anybody... Good luck! You just have to show him that
presentation you've been working on!"

Oh no.

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Sure, Umie would have quipped back. But what of the Kaitou Saint Prince?

However, the parts of her brain that would have been sated with a quick argument back and forth was instead overtaken by the rebellious(?) need to fight.

So, it's a little understandable that she'd be a little hungry. "My, my," Umie says, grinning appreciately as she graciously accepts the meatbun. "My dainty constitution wouldn't do well on an hungry stomach..."

As Akechi reveals himself, Umie, balancing the meat bun in her mouth, gives the Detective Prince a polite little clap. "Very surprising," she says, after swallowing her bite. "Just as surprising as the Skeleton Hero being a Ryouhara..."

-=-=-

The muted little clap to Umie's side draws the blonde's attention (not that one could appreciate that blonde hair fully, due to her not pulling down her hood like a cretin with no manners). She gives Kurou a small smile, dipping her head in a nod. "... Thank you. Hearing you, I realized I needed to speak my mind as well."

With the spotlight taken by the charismatic Akechi, it's easier to do it, and give Kurou a small piece of Umie's appreciation.

She snaps back to the debate, just in time for Akechi to draw on the debate for what turns out to be a clever setup.

One will forget a lady if she pilfers a few life stones herself. She's always in need of them, you see, for the reasons the detective has already set out.

-=-=-

'You just have to show him that presentation you've been working on!' There's the boss, and then... there's the VP.

Umie just keeps going.

"Yes, well." In her hand, Umie's suddenly holding one of those very life stones, slipping it around her fingers. "That's the fun part. He doesn't have to *like* us, he just has to realize we have a good idea." She glances back towards Kurou and Akechi, sharing a cheeky grin. "Of course, everyone thinks they have the next best thing, but the trick is to not only believe it, and make someone else believe it too."

"There's more than one way to change a heart." However, as Akechi had mentioned earlier, this Producer, as well as the VP, the boss, and everyone underneath, are warnings... or threats. It had been rattling around the blonde's mind ever since, as she began connecting the many pieces together, adding Maria's Kingdom on top.

They don't need to change any hearts here, but protect the heart of the person who is imprisoned.

</poem>
MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Cheeky Gremlin Talk toward Office: Impress the Boss!! Focus and Find!

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Umie gets a wink from him at it being called ''very'' surprising.

He pretends not to notice some of his life stones being taken. The thing he didn't say is that this is only ''one'' of his caches of Life Stones.

Mugging Demons for their life stones is highly effective, actually!

"Our Host is a most voracious sort. I think fifty is low-balling it, perhaps." WINKKKKKK, the audience laugh-tracks.

-=-=-

And suddenly they're giving a presentation. Goro Akechi considers his tack to this, then eventually nods, "Well, let's not keep the man waiting."

-=-=-

"... in conclusion, my market research shows one incontrovertible fact." Goro Akechi says, as he stands in front of a faux powerpoint presentation which just has a bar graph entirely unlabeled, only showing the numbers ''go up''.

"This man here-" As he dramatically gestures to the Vice President, "-is secretly plotting a coup against the Producer!"

Being that the room is full of TV personalities, he fully expects a chorus of gasps.

There's more than one way to change a heart as Umie said.

Straight up manipulation is one of those ways.

</poem>
MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Second Coming toward Office: Impress the Boss!! Focus and Patra!

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Notably, Kurou has no reaction to Goro Akechi's reveal. He is not a fan: not as in, 'personally dislikes', but as in, 'celebrities, major or minor, aren't exactly on Kurou's radar as a general rule'.

At Umie's gratitude, Kurou's clapping comes to a stilted halt. "Akabane-san's thoughts are important. You have taught me many things. And to the shihaisha, too."

But perhaps that better not get back to Shiryuu that he thinks that... more for Umie's peace than his own.

He is flung from one unfamiliar and confusing situation to another. This one might be worse. "Presentation...?" He looks to Umie. "... The only thing I have worked on is a poem, for Zakuro-san..." Which is entirely too heavy a subject for here and now...!

Umie and Akechi, once again, seem to understand this entirely strange situation. He is like a wood duckling kicked from the nest, and is struggling to figure out how to swim.

Kurou is silent the entire presentation. After Akechi's grand and dramatic reveal, Kurou reaches into his vest.

He produces a sticker sheet and quietly peels and presses a single gold star to the top of the bar going up.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Charm toward Office: Impress the Boss!! Base!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Office: Impress the Boss! - Round 4 ===================================-
Goro Akechi Academics Success
Second Coming Focus and Patra Fatigue: 2 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Charm Success
Cheeky Gremlin Talk Focus and Find Fatigue: 1 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Charm Failure
Charm Base Fatigue: 3 Morale: 4
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Annoying-1, Chest-0, Hard-2, and Sublime-2
Final Conditions: Sublime-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 3/6 |=== | ===================================================-
-==== Loot So Far: ==========================================================-
Items: 1, Money: 2, Gear: 1
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It's okay, Kurou. If Umie wasn't putting on a show, she would have told you that this feeling is a constant and neverending part of life.

The way Umie deals with it (as well as Shiryuu), is to keep moving forward with purpose, sometimes with little thought so as to avoid the Pessimistic Pit of Self Doubt.

A thrown rock can skip across a deep lake if you it in just the right way!

-=-=

The Boss frowns at the gold star on the chart. "... Doesn't that mean that we tried? We need proof of results, not... uh... wait."

He's a little slower on the draw here, having become purely focused on that line going upwards than Akechi's accusation of his superior. The others gathered, however, are much quicker to realize, letting lose a hush of gasps.

"Hn." His boss chair squeaks as he leans back, rolling a cigar in his hand. "That's a pretty ballsy thing to accuse someone of. What sort of person'd do such a thing?"

He considers, some more.

Umie glances towards Akechi, then back. "We were afraid that you'd be part of this scheme, but... clearly, you're not." She shows the palms of her hands. "A fine, incorruptible man like you would have never considered the possibility, because you always have the Producer's best interests at heart, wouldn't you? The same goes for all of you, right? The VP.... clearly..."

"We'd never be the sorts of people to lie to you, would we? You can trust us. The VP's been the one who's set this up from the start." Her eyelids lower. "You can't trust a thing he says."
</poem>

MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has drawn a new Challenge!

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 5 - Challenge Level 3 ===========================================-
| Card: Security: Go Big Or Go Home |
| Approach Options: Academics or Guts |
| Conditions: Boss - Add 1 Fatigue on failure., Scary - Guts Down L1, |
| Shuffle - Draw 1 Minor Arcana., Stupor - Academics Down L1, and Sublime - |
| Proficiency Up L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The security floor is ahead. When the elevator dings, the floor out there is
metal, with lots of glass and a /ton/ of security Cognitions, Shadowy men
with big muscles, suspenders, and important-looking hats. They don't notice
you immediately, but the offices on this floor include all the bigwigs in
the Producer's security team.

If you could just take a bunch of them out, that would make it much easier
to get through the facility in the future. Wouldn't it?

Well, have at it. Through boldness and strategy, your group engages in a
wide-scale tactical battle with the security floor, despite how intimidating
they can all be. Use the terrain, use the weapons and equipment lying
around, use any Mindless Shadows you can trick them into fighting, use
Demonic bribes, and use your heads to win!

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Once again, Umie and Akechi speak their way out of the situation. Once again, Kurou tries to play back the memory in his mind, peeling apart and piecing together the moments. Like a mental clock, he wants to break it apart and put it back together to know how it ticks, but what he's left with are scattered fragments that have no logical connection.

His brow is scrunched, and his eyes sharpened with his focus as they ride the elevator. He isn't even entirely sure why that conversation worked. He has seen TV at Umie's apartment, but behind the scenes...

It's all so very complex and confusing.

His thoughts dim as the white noise of the elevator takes over. Different sounds diffuse through the walls. If Umie and Akechi are speaking, Kurou is not, for once, listening. It's quiet. It's far, far too quiet.

''Ding.''

Kurou's assessment of the situation is nearly instant.

The time for talking is mercifully over.

He launches into the security floor, nearly disappearing into shadow and cover only to reappear and immediately begin driving his blade through Cognitions and devouring others with Gashadokuro.

And he is ''not'' leaving until he gets one hundred percent completion for killing everything in their area.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Overkill toward Security: Go Big Or Go Home! Specialty!

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
What kind of person would do such a thing, as make a false accusation? Well, Goro Akechi is all smiles at the prospect, with a gun in his hand, ready to show him what kind of person he is, should Umie fail at convincing the room.

Fortunately he doesn't have to use it.

"Honestly, I don't think we could have made it through there without Ryouhara-san. The Gold Star was crucial to our success..." He asides to Umie with a sardonic yet cheerful smile, as they make it away from the room.

Kurou probably does not hear that one.

''Ding.''

"Ah." Is his sole reaction when Kurou just- vanishes into the security floor. "He's rather enthusiastic, isn't he? As for myself..."

-=-=-

~Ten Seconds in the Future~

"Yes, that many life stones ''can'' be yours if you create a whole 'Hee-Horde' and overrun security."

-=-=-

~Back to Now~

"I think I'll go with a different strategy."

-=-=-

~Twenty five seconds in the future~

The Prince runs around the corner, quite in view of a whole squad of the Security Team. "Oh no- I surrender!" As he holds his hands up, the Legionnaires closing in.

Before he drops a smoke bomb from one of his hands he's held up, and the room starts to shake and tremble as a distant sound-

"HEE~HO! HEE~HO! HEE~HO!"

-grows closer by the second.

In another room, Akechi dusts off his hands as he listens to the screams as the Security Team meets its Icy Doom at the hands of the Hee-Horde of Jack Frosts.

</poem>
MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Second Coming toward Security: Go Big Or Go Home! Focus and Patra!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> There's been a lot of talking, that's for sure. Umie casts a quiet, sympathetic glance towards Kurou, gently attempting to check on his well-being.

It's hard to say what's happened recently, but he's been more attuned to her than himself. ....

Is it really just that?

*ding* Unfortunately, the time for doubt has passed. Umie feels the field, sensing the currents like it was the smell of grey rainclouds on the horizon, signaling a nasty but necessary feast of violence.

The Badb shall provide for the skeleton and the rebel their full due in blood and glory.

Umie closes her eyes, and raises a hand. "Badb!"

.... The other hand going to her mask is not a stylistic choice, but a matter of practicality, as it has begun to sag from the earlier battle, no doubt casting hobby glitter over the fallen like the black feathers of a scavenging bird.

Where her visual sight is closed, a mental field is cast, using the points of every possible opponent and ally (sans her and Akechi) to draw a map of negative space. She won't have to worry about any mundane opponents here, leading her to assume (hopefully correctly) that her mapping is accurate.

".... They're thicker this way, but it'll be faster. Reinforcements will be on their way soon if we go the slow and safe route."

She is not the kind of navigator that could mitigate that; she's not even a proper navigator. "Cut through the cognitions around the back. They'll block the way. Swing up through the top, and down. We won't even need to shroud ourselves; they'll know we're here anyway. Let them find us--" HEE-HO HEE-HO HEE-HO

DID UMIE AVOID THAT ROUTE BECAUSE THE DEMONS WERE CUTE? SHE MIGHT'VE, OH WELL, AKECHI HAS IT COVERED
</poem>

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Bird's Eye View toward Security: Go Big Or Go Home! Automap!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Security: Go Big Or Go Home - Round 5 =================================-
Goro Akechi Academics Failure
Second Coming Focus and Patra Fatigue: 4 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Academics Success
Bird's Eye View Automap Fatigue: 1 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Guts Success
Overkill Specialty Fatigue: 3 Morale: 5
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Boss-0, Scary-2, Shuffle: Sword-0, Stupor-2, and
Sublime-1
Final Conditions: Scary-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 5/6 |=====| ===================================================-
-==== Loot So Far: ==========================================================-
Items: 1, Money: 2, Gear: 1
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 6 - Challenge Level 1 ===========================================-
| Card: Bonus: Breaking the Prisoner |
| Approach Options: None |
| Conditions: Revelation - The best result. |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

You now have a key to the top floor elevator, where Producer Matsumoto can
be found. But that's not all you've found! As Rebel Cognitions cheer you on,
you spy some papers that have a lot of useful intelligence... Including a
snippet on the prisoner, Hana Fukami:

'We've almost broken the prisoner. The next strategy we're set to use is his
ex-fiance: Naho Enomoto. He was on track to be a productive member of
society marrying her... up until that brother of hers found out about his
habits and went after him. The scare that beating gave him could keep him on
the straight and narrow for good, now--if we use it right. Above all, we
can't allow him to start rebelling... can we use those damn pest Shadows and
Demons to scare him?'

You also find some nice photography equipment that would function in the
real world--or sell pretty nicely.

Final Loot: 1 Item, 2 boxes of Money, and 1 Pieces of Gear!
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Princess Umie sanctions this straightforward path, which is a good thing because it does not seem Kurou is inclined to stop once he's begun. Badb charts the course, and Kurou follows it, while the Prince recruits a royal hee-ho guard to even the odds.

Kurou endeavors to rapidly dwindle the number that has to be evened. If there is any flaw in the plan it's that it does take a concentrated effort to make sure Kurou does not eliminate the Jack Frosts in his fervor.

"Hee-ho," he says, flat, with the cheering Jack Frosts once the violence is complete, their foes lay fallen, and Kurou holds an unconscious Jack Frost against his shoulder as an ice pack.

In his other hand, he reviews the intelligence they've found as they ride the elevator upward. For a moment after he reads it, he is silent, struggling to understand how this relates to Hana Fukami exactly. She may be out, but Kurou's awareness rarely is.

"Oh," he finally realizes. "... I think... she will be more difficult than that to break, if she is from a world like this one..."

It may be the demonic version of it, but...

... TV production is truly daunting.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Akechi sees Kurou with a Jack Frost.

"Ah. A wise move. Believe it or not, I have a pact with a Jack Frost for a similar purpose."

Really!? Akechi has a Pact with a Jack Frost??? But-

Somehow, he pulls out a full Cooler.

And upon opening the lid, a Jack Frost sits up and waves at Kurou- before then handing him a whole Chilled Taiyaki. "Hee-Here you go!"

"It allows me to keep perishable food as healing items for much longer." He explains.

Of course, he has to find a new Jack Frost every time he needs to enter the Metaverse or a place like this but- details!

Akechi too reviews the intelligence as they go up, and hearing Kurou's remark...

"Yes, I do think they rather underestimate her. To someone like her..."

Pause.

"... there is little they could do that she has not already suffered."

It's a grave, cynical remark. But- it's also in his eyes, absolutely true.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie smiles as the two express their 'bonds' with Jack Frosts, but remains quiet, unable to feel comfortable saying anything.

Is... that what she had with Taro-kun? Then... ".... They suit you both," she says, quietly, with a nod.

'she will be more difficult than that to break, if she is from a world like this one...'

"I'm not sure if you have encountered any places like these, Ryouhara-kun, but this place is called a Kingdom. Think of it as... similar to the place that Shiryuu and I accidentally found a way into, if not outright created." She gestures to Kurou. "When I met Hana Fukami briefly, I felt something. The best way to describe it is 'bad luck', or 'a bad omen', probably due to my Persona's background. If we translate that into these surroundings... it may not be that I predicted the future, but was just able to see what was obvious to her, only in a cognitive way."

'There is little they could do that she has not already suffered.'

Umie reviews her brief interaction with Hana, who lacked her memories of the world outside. "... Prince-kun," she begins, touching her fingers against the paper, serving as evidence of this further crime. "You mentioned something about this place being a 'warning'. Maybe, like how Palaces are a showcase of an owner's delusional desire, this place is the opposite: a prison, showing a 'host''s surpression. They're isolated from the memories and things they hold important, which would normally allow them to weather those abuses. Sakurai-san was able to break from hers, but only with help. The same is happening here."

She lets her theory sit there, as she turns to the photography equipment.

"If either of you don't want to claim the photography equipment, I will. Rent's due." It's callous, but a way to make it clear that they won't be able to depend on her for access. "However, Ryouhara-kun, I think this camera... if you can get it to work, maybe you'd get something out of it." It may be putting Kurou on the spot here, but she doesn't want him to keep quiet just for her sake.
</poem>

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-09-16: Kaitou Saint Prince, Skeleton Hero, and Some Gremlin Rando Save the Day

2026-09-18T01:09:37Z

Tanyuu:

*'''Log: Kaitou Saint Prince, Skeleton Hero, and Some Gremlin Rando Save the Day'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Umie Akabane]], [[Goro Akechi]], [[Kurou Ryouhara]]
*'''Where:''' Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4
*'''OOC Date:''' September 16, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' January 10, 2013
*'''Summary''': ''Hana Fukabi has nothing to fear, since Kaitou Saint Prince and Skeleton Hero are here to save the day! Also, some gremlin princess? Geez, guys, fit a genre for your show or get out!''

----

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 1 - Challenge Level 2 ===========================================-
| Card: Lot: Sitcom Situation |
| Approach Options: Guts or Understanding |
| Conditions: Fairy - Subtract 1 Fatigue on success., Heartening - Guts Up |
| L1, and Terrifying - Guts Down L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

A comfy couch; a soothingly-painted wall. Cognitions are all around in the
audience as one of the outer studios films a sitcom!

There's a laugh track and everything, which might be unsettling because what
it chooses to laugh at is entirely inscrutable. There's also a studio
audience... which happens to be made up of demons who are happy to just
watch, apparently.

The Cognitions--little Shadowy guys in costumes--have heartfelt problems and
require care and kindness. Alternately, if you want to fake it, the hammier
you can get the better. Either way, there's no escaping Security--bigger
Cognitions with big hats--without playing along for a little while. Not only
that, but the demons won't tolerate their show being interrupted. As you
watch, you see one of the demons crushing... wait, is that a Mindless
Shadow? Yes, a Cowardly Maya, a blob of a Shadow with a blue mask, is
smashed under Jack Frost's heel.

If you're really lucky, they'll point you on your way towards the main
Producer's Complex! The demons in the audience might even give rewards for
great performances!

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Blackbird's Bite toward Lot: Sitcom Situation! Bravery and Focus!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It's all well and good to feel sorry for yourself, even if you're Umie Akabane. Eventually, though, you have to keep going, because that's the sort of person you are.

Hana Fukami isn't going to get out of this Kingdom if she did that, and she needs people like Umie to get her to see that. She doesn't need to see a sad, scared Umie who isn't in control.

So now, Umie is.... here. Frustratingly alone, though, if Kurou (or Akechi, for that matter) manages to intercept her before going in, she'll graciously allow for it. Alternately, if they intercept her now, she'll... do the same, actually.

Which leads to now: a 155cm young woman, standing with her arms akimbo, the oversized white jacket hanging down to her mid-thigh, black leggings and red sneakers underneath, matching the red mask across her face, outlined by that white hood.

"I'm here to supervise. This set has been way too disorganized. How are we going to get big ratings if we can't keep those shadows under control? The other shows are beating us as we speak." She points to the Jack Frost with a red fingernail. "Why can't you all be like him? That shadow has to be twice his size. That sort of go-get-them attitude is exactly the sort of thing we need around here..."

As the beefy security demons peers at the curiously bossy young woman, Umie folds her arms. "You wish to question my creditials because I'm a woman? Studies show shows like this need a woman's touch. We need emotions, pathos, struggle, a climax. People need to cry and feel good about themselves by the end. Oh, my name?" She sighs, glancing away, tapping a nail to her chin. ".... You really don't know who I am...? It figures, that a studio like this wouldn't know..."

It's a load of BS, but from the connotations she was getting during her last visit here... it seems like a way to put herself at an advantage.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
A hand on his chin, a Princely figure gets the lay of his land from his perch atop the studio lighting, as he scans the audience, then the security guards. "Hmm. Well I could always play on their terms."

As he focuses on one Security Guard in particular, "But where would be the fun in that?"

The Night We Stood - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTv61MFoyMQ

Hanging on with one arm he balances something lightly atop a big hat of the security Shadow Umie is tangling with, while winking at her behind a mask, he lets himself drop from the lighting, aiming a spinning kick at the Guard's head, sending him reeling onto the stage, as he pinwheels into the demons on stage.

"Look out! He's got a gun!"

And indeed, the gun which he'd propped up on them clatters onto the stage from the Security Shadow. A terrible disintegration ray looking thing.

"How dare you try to stop the show, these creatures have ''real'' problems that deserve kindness and dignity- I- Kaitou Saint Prince- won't allow this!"

Cue... the impromptu fight scene as he gets rushed by security!?

Did he just CHANGE THE WHOLE GENRE OF THE SHOW!?
</poem>

MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Guts toward Lot: Sitcom Situation! Base!

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
It is still part of Kurou's assignments to look after Umie... but perhaps it has become something else that drives him to keep a close eye on her. Something more than shinobi honor or his loyalty and concern for Shiryuu and how Umie may relate to the shihaisha's future well being. Something that has to do with fuzzy blankets and home cooked meals what turns a house into a home.

He'd like her to be able to return to it.

... Which is how Kurou ends up on the set, hidden in the shadows, with the chain of his weapon about to loop around one of the security guard's necks just as Umie scolds them.

Even if unnoticed, Kurou is caught in the scolding crossfire...!

They need emotions and pathos... Things that Kurou's not terribly good at. Because he isn't a woman, or just because he's Kurou...? He begins to retreat back into the shadows where he can't ruin this when...

The genre changes?!

... Well. No need to remain quiet, then.

Kurou finally announces himself by way of Gashadokuro screeching onto the studio and trying to devour security.

Some of the Shadow audience may also get caught in that terrible maw.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Overkill toward Lot: Sitcom Situation! Specialty!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Lot: Sitcom Situation - Round 1 =======================================-
Goro Akechi Guts Success
Guts Base Fatigue: 0 Morale: 2
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Guts Success
Blackbird's Bite Bravery and Focus Fatigue: 0 Morale: 3
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Guts Success
Overkill Specialty Fatigue: 0 Morale: 3
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Fairy-0, Heartening-2, and Terrifying-2
Final Conditions: Heartening-1 and Terrifying-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 1/6 |= | ===================================================-
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> When it comes to demons, one of the main principals Umie has learned is to maintain your hold. Might can matter, but a demon's size and muscle can be upended by another, smaller, more clever demon.

You must be that clever little demon.

As focused as Umie is on maintaining her hold on the demons playing security guards, she almost misses Akechi's careful balancing; the chain of Kurou's weapon gives her that polite reminder to look up, where she sees Akechi's wink.

She fights that little urge to cackle back; she has a role to maintain, after all.

She'll run with it.

"The legendary Kaitou Saint Prince!" she exclaims, feigning surprise...

.... until the Gashadokuro makes that surprise a reality. "Ryouhara-kun!" She's surprised, but secretly glad; with the two of them, it *would* be a lot easier, wouldn't it?

The demon audience is certainly loving these twists.

Picking up the gun (if it's not been picked up by Akechi or one of the guards), Umie tries to gain the two's attention, with a nod towards the door, pointed out by the helpful Jack Frost, who gives Kurou a thumbs-up. "That's an excellent skel-Hee-ton, hee hoo!"

</poem>
MONAD: Goro Akechi has drawn a new Challenge!

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 2 - Challenge Level 2 ===========================================-
| Card: Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff! |
| Approach Options: Understanding or Guts |
| Conditions: Heartening - Guts Up L1, Magnetic - Charm Up L2, Scary - Guts |
| Down L1, and Terrifying - Guts Down L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The group has arrived at the Producer's Complex, a big brown building with
lots of windows. On the bottom floor is reception: a desk near the elevator
that has a sign detailing what's on each floor. The bottom floor being
Reception, the next is the News Studio, Offices, Security HQ, and then of
course the Producer's Floor. However, simply going where you like is going
to be a problem...

Because this floor is absolutely crawling with security Cognitions. The
secretary Cognition has a nice computer and a nice hairstyle, but is as
small as the rest. The Security cognitions are twice as big Shadowy
creatures with suspenders and cigars. However, they're all following orders
from one Cognition with a big hat.

If you can convince that one that you belong here, maybe you can get through
this without a fight! With the Mindless Shadows and Demons they seem to be
dealing with, a bold story about how you're Shadow-Exterminating Specialists
or Demon Slayers might be just the ticket... or maybe you can just
sympathise with him about how hard it is to fight those lion wheels.

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
You should be thankful Kurou. Akechi saved you from an evening of actually managing ''feelings'' on Live Television.

Or at least, he'd find that to be a terrible time. "Fear not, Citizen." He replies to Umie's prompt, "You're safe now, while I'm about."

As he immediately makes for the gun. "Oh no you don't!" As he picks up his gun and rolls, before shooting one of the Security Guards center mass.

And kicking them right into Gashadokuro's open mouth.

"Haha- it seems you have a bone to pick with these terrorists as well, Ninja Necromancer!"

If the audience gets devoured, well, that's the peril of being in the front row.

You don't sit at the front row in a water park without expecting to 'get wet'. In the aftermath, as they join up. "Well well. What say we call a truce, for the moment, Ryouhara-san?"

He says cheerily, "Seeing as my 'Justice' currently seems to align with your own." Shouldn't he be more upset??? After all, they made off with a Joker of Umie's creepy ex-coworker-

No actually it's entirely understandable as to why he might treat this as a minor disagreement between them, in that respect.

As they sneak in towards the Producer's Complex, he grabs a pamphlet with a map of the studio, reviewing it- before hand it off to the two of them with a nod.

As they then move throughout the floor well- there's a bunch of Security Cognitions wandering around on set pathways, back and forth, back and forth with maddening regularity, but there comes a point when they can't hide.

Because it's just a big open room with a small Cognition with a big hat, surrounded by other Security Cognitions.

With a moment of weighing the situation, he nods, before turning to Kurou, "I do believe this situation calls for the storied techniques of the Ryouhara." He smiles cheerfully, "I'm certain your Princess would like to witness this as well."

Is Akechi forcefully recruiting Umie to double team Kurou!?

... Absolutely.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Some little demons are clever. Some are ruthless. Gashadokuro is certainly the latter... with Akechi's help in feeding the monster. Ninja Necromancer...

"Ah... it is... Skeleton Hero, I think."

At least have the confidence to sell some of this, Kurou...! Akechi and Umie both have to pick up the performative slack, but thankfully for Kurou, they do certainly manage. At least Jack Frost approves. Kurou raises his arm up like Jack Frost is wont to do.

"Hee ho," he repeats, deadpan.

On the matter of a truce, his head tilts at Akechi. "... But I have no present quarrel with you." It can hardly be a truce without ongoing hostilities, right...? (Maybe the truce is for ''you'', Kurou!) As long as this prince is no threat to Umie, then they are on the same side, and Kurou offers no objection.

When they can no longer rely on stealth, Kurou begins to reach for his weapon when Akechi prompts him. This makes Kurou pause, brow furrowing in deep consideration. Most of his techniques aren't for ''witnessing'', but...

"Diplomate, do not negotiate," he murmurs to himself, as a lesson he once observed of Shiryuu's encounter with a cop. He pieces together the chatter he has been hearing, and takes a single step toward the big hat Cognition.

He must be bold, and speak of sanctions. He must not give --

"... My apologies. What was this about a lion wheel...?"

They sounded quite annoyed by it... and if the Cognition should go off about it, then Kurou will nod along, listening quietly but intently to the rant as long as the Cognition sees fit to rave about it.

It would be impolite to interrupted once the Cognition gets going, after all.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Shut Up and Nod toward Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff!! Amrita!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'Fear note, Citizen.'
'"Haha- it seems you have a bone to pick with these terrorists as well, Ninja Necromancer!'

Oh, you're doing this on purpose, Akechi, and Umie knows it.

"I was doing just fine," Umie says, attempting to highlight the farce with a wink before she pouts and folds her arms. "I don't need a prince to save me. But I'll permit you to, just in case." (Please get the hint that this is an act, Akechi! Mostly. She *does* want you to come along. Please don't leave her high and dry, Kurou will likely follow you in order to appear polite!)

What a tangled web they all weave...

Flash forward to: now. Umie takes the pamphlet from Akechi with a nod to thanks. "... Let's see..." She itches underneath the edge of her faintly glittery red mask (this will be a mistake her apartment will pay for until the end of time), glancing up occasionally to follow the two's conversation.

'I'm certain your Princess...'

OH UMIE WALKED RIGHT INTO THAT ONE.

She sighs, throwing up her hands. "Finnnnnnne. "

This shall serve as her story for the evening(?). Everyone appreciates a little bit of theatre, right?

It'll set the stage nicely for Kurou's quiet understanding, and Akechi's Big Prince Energy.

</poem>
MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Guts toward Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff!! Base!
MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Guts toward Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff!! Base!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff! - Round 2 =============================-
Goro Akechi Guts Failure
Guts Base Fatigue: 1 Morale: 2
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Guts Failure
Guts Base Fatigue: 1 Morale: 3
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Understanding Failure
Shut Up and Nod Amrita Fatigue: 1 Morale: 3
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Heartening-1, Magnetic-2, Scary-2, and Terrifying-1
Final Conditions: Magnetic-1 and Scary-1
-================================================= Party Result: Failure ====-
-==== Reach: 1/6 |= | ===================================================-
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
The 'Kaitou' looks taken aback as Kurou chooses a name, before chuckling heartily, "Of course, my mistake." He looks so cheerful over it!

And then he moves into the fray with swashbuckling aplomb.

"Oh I don't doubt that, I merely wanted to speed things along. Besides- a place like this makes me inclined to stir the pot a little." He replies to Umie, before Kurou answers that there's no quarrel, "... Truly?" Akechi seems genuinely startled, "Well... if that's the case, then I suppose there's no issue joining forces."

Rather quick to set aside his own 'beef' isn't he? Well that's easy when his beef was feigned all along.

Kurou strolls up to the Shadows, and the head Shadow starts nodding along, "Yeah, we've gotta bunch of 'em loose on the lot right now." He puffs on a cigar, INDOORS, before staring down Kurou.

"Big intruder problem." He waves his Cigar, and at once, the Security Shadows start sidling around to take more favorable position.

"Think ya can help us get a handle on that?"

And of course, that's when they try to jump Kurou. "...I know what you're thinking, Akabane-kun." Akechi says to her, "And I take absolutely no responsibility for this outcome... Now let's get in there."

The coming fight is more brutal than anyone might like, but over swiftly. Akechi's mask is a little cracked on one side, he's got soot all over his uniform, and the dust cloud in the room was huge.

And after coughing once from the dust, he manages to get out, "Worth it."

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has drawn a new Challenge!

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 3 - Challenge Level 2 ===========================================-
| Card: Newsfloor: Political Guests |
| Approach Options: Charm or Guts |
| Conditions: Annoying - Charm Down L2, Chest - Add 2 Item/Money/Gear., |
| Magnetic - Charm Up L2, Reaper - Add 1 Fatigue., and Scary - Guts Down L1 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The news floor is expansive. Is it bigger than the building outside? Don't
worry about it. Right now, your group has found themselves in a lovely
little section that involves a lounge with a big desk and a number of plush
chairs. A Cognition host--a little Shadowy guy with a bushy mustache and
neat hair--sits behind the desk. He turns to the group as you arrive.

"Ah!" Cognitive Chaki says, "My guests are here! Come on, sit down. We've
got a roundtable to discuss!"

You are not the only guests; there's a number of besuited
Cognition-shadow-men on the other side, looking very serious in their
business attire.

"This is a political show! Today's topics include 'The Producer: Savior or
Sensei?', 'Rebels: Threat or Menace?', 'Shadows: Invaders or Pests?', and
'Demons: Weird or Frightening?' I hope you're ready to debate the issues and
debate them hard!"

If you screw this one up, you're going to have a lot of very mad Security
cognitions down on you. But if you succeed, there might be extra rewards...
Whether by winning charism or the bravery to speak your mind, dazzle the
Cognitions!

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>If Akechi is quick to drop any concept of being foes, Kurou sees no reason to pursue the train of thought. But is he really so guilelessly going along with it like there's no reason for mistrust? If he's suspicious, he's hiding it well.

Then again, his face doesn't emote much.

Which is really only a small part of Kurou's problem when it comes to speaking with demons. Only once the battle is over does Kurou allow himself to break in composure to wrinkle his nose from the cigar smoke. He sneezes, politely, into his vest rather than into his own scarf. It's a frightfully dainty sound for a murderer.

"Akabane-san, are you all right?" He looks to Akechi, too, extending this question by proxy. But they all seem to be ready and able to move on...

TV studios are very confusing places, Kurou is learning.

"Mm... the Flower Talk host has to deal with many difficult things," he murmurs as they are sat down opposite Cognitive guests and promised political debate. His brow furrows at these topics.

"... These topics are presented with false dichotomies. The foundation of this debate is already logically compromised and lesser in academic value for it."

He might need some help before he ends up starting yet another physical altercation with security -- if not the debate guests outright.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie, finally sensing Akechi's surprise, gives him a slow, widening, sharply-edged open smile. "Skeleton Hero," she says, having quietly adopted the name, "is very bare bones when it comes to these sorts of things~"

... Which places Akechi in a proper position to observe, if he's looking, how Umie's expression turns from that crone's shark-like grin to a lady's cheer. "I'm perfectly fine, Ryouhara-kun. I'm sorry, I should have invited you on my plans instead of making you follow like this." The change is lightning *quick*.

As is her way of abandoning the delicate princess title by charging after the prince in battle! But first-- "Avoiding taking responsibility for your actions... how princely of you."

Umie's not about to let him go without at least *one* comment, before leaping into the frag to go after her roommate.

Was it worth it?

The cackling of the crow princess seems to agree, no matter how much she'll try to deny it minutes later as she's trying to fix her bent mask.

----

Kurou is not alone in finding the spatial dimensions of these spaces to be misleading. Already, the pamphlet is proving to be less useful than the Badb's own mental radar. ".... The self-importance of this man is clearly on another level," she murmurs dryly, following along.

Map or no, they'll need to play along with these little games, and sneak out later. Maybe, with Kaitou Saint Prince being interviewed, he'll command the spotlight!

As Umie tries to think of the proper lies to present, she is reminded, as Kurou speaks his own truth, of where her own would align.

"Nothing is ever as black and white as those in charge would like to claim," she says, opting for a truthful perspective. "Demons seem weird and frightening because they present a different view on morality than what people are used to." She crosses her legs. "Ask yourself this: who benefits from you thinking this way? To think of rebels as uniformly 'bad' and the producer as uniformly 'good'... the answer is clear to me."

She shrugs. "If you want to live in a world of black and white, it's your life. However, at some point, when you find yourself in the category of 'black', those lies you've told yourself aren't going to be so comforting, will they?"
</poem>

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Blackbird's Bite toward Newsfloor: Political Guests! Bravery and Focus!
[OOC] Umie Akabane says, "bluray: delete that extra indent"

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"Au Contraire...! It is the most 'Princely' quality I could have."

After all, when do the Aristocracy ever take responsibility for their failings anywhere worldwide?

Akechi at least ''seems'' alright. And in the aftermath, "Quite. Here." Shares some meat buns with the other two!? Here in the Metaverse, they're restorative and take care of any hunger pangs!

As they move on, the Prince takes his seat in a comfortable way, crossing one leg over another and folding his hands together as he listens. Kurou takes issue with the way the topics are presented, and he whispers back to him, "It is the way of television. Audiences don't often desire conversations with nuance that would cause uncomfortable introspection. They want extremes that do not challenge their worldview."

And then- "Well before I launch into it- I'd like for the audience to indulge me for a moment. For you see-"

Akechi then smiles and stands up, then with a theatrical gesture takes off his mask, which vanishes into blue flames. "-I'd like to introduce myself- I'm your surprise guest tonight, Goro Akechi. I apologize for the trick, but I do hope you find it a little fun. And- moving along."

-=-=-

"Hmm. Yes. Messianic delusions aside- I think we should see the Producer as- a Warning." He smiles politely, "Or perhaps a threat, against stepping out of line. After all, he does more than simply sign your checks... does he not?"

-=-=-

"You've made your perspective quite clear, but should we not take the Rebels as a call towards practicing our craft in a more independent manner? Even the majority of the public say that most television these days is low-effort 'schlop' that says absolutely nothing. If we are to make better art then-"

-=-=-

"The question I believe is more 'why' they have entered this Studio. And I have several theories on the matter..."

-=-=-

"Akabane-kun. While I agree with you on some level- let us be honest with our audience here." He pauses, as if about to say something quite profound, "Demons are very weird, but quite the entertaining conversationalists, don't you think? I believe myself to be something of an expert on this matter."

And just like that, he conjures a whole briefcase, which he opens to reveal a small mountain of Life Stones. Much larger than the brief case should entail...

... in fact, several spill out onto the floor as he does this.

"Never again shall I go wanting when they demand a life stone to establish communications at all.

-=-=-

It would have been easier to just ''not'' speak out against the status quo, but- you know, after spending infinite appearances on television program after television program just taking the path of least resistance...

... it feels good to enjoy this little stint of rebelling against the premise of the show.

</poem>
MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Smooth Talk toward Newsfloor: Political Guests! Focus and Friendliness!
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Guts toward Newsfloor: Political Guests! Base!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Newsfloor: Political Guests - Round 3 =================================-
Goro Akechi Charm Success
Smooth Talk Focus and Friendliness Fatigue: 2 Morale: 4
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Guts Success
Blackbird's Bite Bravery and Focus Fatigue: 2 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Guts Success
Guts Base Fatigue: 2 Morale: 4
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Annoying-2, Chest-0, Magnetic-1, Reaper-0, and Scary-1
Final Conditions: Annoying-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 2/6 |== | ===================================================-
-==== Loot So Far: ==========================================================-
Items: 1, Money: 1, Gear: 0
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Umie mentions she ought to have invited him, and Kurou glances down. "... I apologize for not making my presence more known. I was not sure if you would want my assistance, but I was... worried."

There are roles being played and masks being worn. Yet Kurou remains simply Kurou.

And a Kurou is good at fighting. Speaking and debate? Not so much. He speaks with his own conviction and belief, but that's only part of the equation, as Akechi helpfully points out. Kurou blinks wide, beginning to nod slowly in understanding, but stopping halfway when he realizes he does not, in fact, understand.

"But that would result in less comprehensive information and hurt learning efficiency..."

Yet Akechi is already off to the charming races, with Umie able to back up Kurou's own starting statement and spin it to something far more eloquent.

He claps his gloved hands quietly in respect and awe. He is listening. He is learning.

"... If you set such rules, you cannot be surprised if others should play by them..." he murmurs of Umie's thoughts. It is a simple, but core belief of Kurou's personal philosophy. People often make rules thinking they are exempt from them. They are not.

Akechi meets their opponents head on, and he would know, more than anyone, ''how'' to say things that captivate audiences and make for compelling TV. And if there was going to be any objection...

A cascade of life stones flows onto the floor.

"Today's topic now includes Life Stones in My Mouth: Five or Fifty?!" Kurou is about to open his mouth to object to this strange binary, but the mustached Shadowy guy is already grabbing fist fulls to munch on ravenously.

They get by without a fight this time.

</poem>
MONAD: Umie Akabane has drawn a new Challenge!

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 4 - Challenge Level 4 ===========================================-
| Card: Office: Impress the Boss! |
| Approach Options: Charm or Academics |
| Conditions: Annoying - Charm Down L2, Chest - Add 2 Item/Money/Gear., Hard |
| - Understanding Down L1, and Sublime - Proficiency Up L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

Office space! Carpeted floors, wooden cubicles and tables, and of course,
the ever-present haze of cigarette smoke. Cognitions--little Shadow-guys in
collared shirts--scurry around trying to show themselves hard at work.

But there's a /boss/ Cognition here now. He is just as short as the others,
but he has a combover of black hair and Shadowy scalp, a bigger cigar than
most of the others, and a desk in its own room.

"Oh!" a Cognition says. "You're the new team! The VP is waiting for you!"

The Vice President!

"He doesn't like anybody... Good luck! You just have to show him that
presentation you've been working on!"

Oh no.

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Sure, Umie would have quipped back. But what of the Kaitou Saint Prince?

However, the parts of her brain that would have been sated with a quick argument back and forth was instead overtaken by the rebellious(?) need to fight.

So, it's a little understandable that she'd be a little hungry. "My, my," Umie says, grinning appreciately as she graciously accepts the meatbun. "My dainty constitution wouldn't do well on an hungry stomach..."

As Akechi reveals himself, Umie, balancing the meat bun in her mouth, gives the Detective Prince a polite little clap. "Very surprising," she says, after swallowing her bite. "Just as surprising as the Skeleton Hero being a Ryouhara..."

-=-=-

The muted little clap to Umie's side draws the blonde's attention (not that one could appreciate that blonde hair fully, due to her not pulling down her hood like a cretin with no manners). She gives Kurou a small smile, dipping her head in a nod. "... Thank you. Hearing you, I realized I needed to speak my mind as well."

With the spotlight taken by the charismatic Akechi, it's easier to do it, and give Kurou a small piece of Umie's appreciation.

She snaps back to the debate, just in time for Akechi to draw on the debate for what turns out to be a clever setup.

One will forget a lady if she pilfers a few life stones herself. She's always in need of them, you see, for the reasons the detective has already set out.

-=-=-

'You just have to show him that presentation you've been working on!' There's the boss, and then... there's the VP.

Umie just keeps going.

"Yes, well." In her hand, Umie's suddenly holding one of those very life stones, slipping it around her fingers. "That's the fun part. He doesn't have to *like* us, he just has to realize we have a good idea." She glances back towards Kurou and Akechi, sharing a cheeky grin. "Of course, everyone thinks they have the next best thing, but the trick is to not only believe it, and make someone else believe it too."

"There's more than one way to change a heart." However, as Akechi had mentioned earlier, this Producer, as well as the VP, the boss, and everyone underneath, are warnings... or threats. It had been rattling around the blonde's mind ever since, as she began connecting the many pieces together, adding Maria's Kingdom on top.

They don't need to change any hearts here, but protect the heart of the person who is imprisoned.

</poem>
MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Cheeky Gremlin Talk toward Office: Impress the Boss!! Focus and Find!

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Umie gets a wink from him at it being called ''very'' surprising.

He pretends not to notice some of his life stones being taken. The thing he didn't say is that this is only ''one'' of his caches of Life Stones.

Mugging Demons for their life stones is highly effective, actually!

"Our Host is a most voracious sort. I think fifty is low-balling it, perhaps." WINKKKKKK, the audience laugh-tracks.

-=-=-

And suddenly they're giving a presentation. Goro Akechi considers his tack to this, then eventually nods, "Well, let's not keep the man waiting."

-=-=-

"... in conclusion, my market research shows one incontrovertible fact." Goro Akechi says, as he stands in front of a faux powerpoint presentation which just has a bar graph entirely unlabeled, only showing the numbers ''go up''.

"This man here-" As he dramatically gestures to the Vice President, "-is secretly plotting a coup against the Producer!"

Being that the room is full of TV personalities, he fully expects a chorus of gasps.

There's more than one way to change a heart as Umie said.

Straight up manipulation is one of those ways.

</poem>
MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Second Coming toward Office: Impress the Boss!! Focus and Patra!

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Notably, Kurou has no reaction to Goro Akechi's reveal. He is not a fan: not as in, 'personally dislikes', but as in, 'celebrities, major or minor, aren't exactly on Kurou's radar as a general rule'.

At Umie's gratitude, Kurou's clapping comes to a stilted halt. "Akabane-san's thoughts are important. You have taught me many things. And to the shihaisha, too."

But perhaps that better not get back to Shiryuu that he thinks that... more for Umie's peace than his own.

He is flung from one unfamiliar and confusing situation to another. This one might be worse. "Presentation...?" He looks to Umie. "... The only thing I have worked on is a poem, for Zakuro-san..." Which is entirely too heavy a subject for here and now...!

Umie and Akechi, once again, seem to understand this entirely strange situation. He is like a wood duckling kicked from the nest, and is struggling to figure out how to swim.

Kurou is silent the entire presentation. After Akechi's grand and dramatic reveal, Kurou reaches into his vest.

He produces a sticker sheet and quietly peels and presses a single gold star to the top of the bar going up.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Charm toward Office: Impress the Boss!! Base!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Office: Impress the Boss! - Round 4 ===================================-
Goro Akechi Academics Success
Second Coming Focus and Patra Fatigue: 2 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Charm Success
Cheeky Gremlin Talk Focus and Find Fatigue: 1 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Charm Failure
Charm Base Fatigue: 3 Morale: 4
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Annoying-1, Chest-0, Hard-2, and Sublime-2
Final Conditions: Sublime-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 3/6 |=== | ===================================================-
-==== Loot So Far: ==========================================================-
Items: 1, Money: 2, Gear: 1
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It's okay, Kurou. If Umie wasn't putting on a show, she would have told you that this feeling is a constant and neverending part of life.

The way Umie deals with it (as well as Shiryuu), is to keep moving forward with purpose, sometimes with little thought so as to avoid the Pessimistic Pit of Self Doubt.

A thrown rock can skip across a deep lake if you it in just the right way!

-=-=

The Boss frowns at the gold star on the chart. "... Doesn't that mean that we tried? We need proof of results, not... uh... wait."

He's a little slower on the draw here, having become purely focused on that line going upwards than Akechi's accusation of his superior. The others gathered, however, are much quicker to realize, letting lose a hush of gasps.

"Hn." His boss chair squeaks as he leans back, rolling a cigar in his hand. "That's a pretty ballsy thing to accuse someone of. What sort of person'd do such a thing?"

He considers, some more.

Umie glances towards Akechi, then back. "We were afraid that you'd be part of this scheme, but... clearly, you're not." She shows the palms of her hands. "A fine, incorruptible man like you would have never considered the possibility, because you always have the Producer's best interests at heart, wouldn't you? The same goes for all of you, right? The VP.... clearly..."

"We'd never be the sorts of people to lie to you, would we? You can trust us. The VP's been the one who's set this up from the start." Her eyelids lower. "You can't trust a thing he says."
</poem>

MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has drawn a new Challenge!

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 5 - Challenge Level 3 ===========================================-
| Card: Security: Go Big Or Go Home |
| Approach Options: Academics or Guts |
| Conditions: Boss - Add 1 Fatigue on failure., Scary - Guts Down L1, |
| Shuffle - Draw 1 Minor Arcana., Stupor - Academics Down L1, and Sublime - |
| Proficiency Up L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The security floor is ahead. When the elevator dings, the floor out there is
metal, with lots of glass and a /ton/ of security Cognitions, Shadowy men
with big muscles, suspenders, and important-looking hats. They don't notice
you immediately, but the offices on this floor include all the bigwigs in
the Producer's security team.

If you could just take a bunch of them out, that would make it much easier
to get through the facility in the future. Wouldn't it?

Well, have at it. Through boldness and strategy, your group engages in a
wide-scale tactical battle with the security floor, despite how intimidating
they can all be. Use the terrain, use the weapons and equipment lying
around, use any Mindless Shadows you can trick them into fighting, use
Demonic bribes, and use your heads to win!

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Once again, Umie and Akechi speak their way out of the situation. Once again, Kurou tries to play back the memory in his mind, peeling apart and piecing together the moments. Like a mental clock, he wants to break it apart and put it back together to know how it ticks, but what he's left with are scattered fragments that have no logical connection.

His brow is scrunched, and his eyes sharpened with his focus as they ride the elevator. He isn't even entirely sure why that conversation worked. He has seen TV at Umie's apartment, but behind the scenes...

It's all so very complex and confusing.

His thoughts dim as the white noise of the elevator takes over. Different sounds diffuse through the walls. If Umie and Akechi are speaking, Kurou is not, for once, listening. It's quiet. It's far, far too quiet.

''Ding.''

Kurou's assessment of the situation is nearly instant.

The time for talking is mercifully over.

He launches into the security floor, nearly disappearing into shadow and cover only to reappear and immediately begin driving his blade through Cognitions and devouring others with Gashadokuro.

And he is ''not'' leaving until he gets one hundred percent completion for killing everything in their area.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Overkill toward Security: Go Big Or Go Home! Specialty!

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
What kind of person would do such a thing, as make a false accusation? Well, Goro Akechi is all smiles at the prospect, with a gun in his hand, ready to show him what kind of person he is, should Umie fail at convincing the room.

Fortunately he doesn't have to use it.

"Honestly, I don't think we could have made it through there without Ryouhara-san. The Gold Star was crucial to our success..." He asides to Umie with a sardonic yet cheerful smile, as they make it away from the room.

Kurou probably does not hear that one.

''Ding.''

"Ah." Is his sole reaction when Kurou just- vanishes into the security floor. "He's rather enthusiastic, isn't he? As for myself..."

-=-=-

~Ten Seconds in the Future~

"Yes, that many life stones ''can'' be yours if you create a whole 'Hee-Horde' and overrun security."

-=-=-

~Back to Now~

"I think I'll go with a different strategy."

-=-=-

~Twenty five seconds in the future~

The Prince runs around the corner, quite in view of a whole squad of the Security Team. "Oh no- I surrender!" As he holds his hands up, the Legionnaires closing in.

Before he drops a smoke bomb from one of his hands he's held up, and the room starts to shake and tremble as a distant sound-

"HEE~HO! HEE~HO! HEE~HO!"

-grows closer by the second.

In another room, Akechi dusts off his hands as he listens to the screams as the Security Team meets its Icy Doom at the hands of the Hee-Horde of Jack Frosts.

</poem>
MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Second Coming toward Security: Go Big Or Go Home! Focus and Patra!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> There's been a lot of talking, that's for sure. Umie casts a quiet, sympathetic glance towards Kurou, gently attempting to check on his well-being.

It's hard to say what's happened recently, but he's been more attuned to her than himself. ....

Is it really just that?

*ding* Unfortunately, the time for doubt has passed. Umie feels the field, sensing the currents like it was the smell of grey rainclouds on the horizon, signaling a nasty but necessary feast of violence.

The Badb shall provide for the skeleton and the rebel their full due in blood and glory.

Umie closes her eyes, and raises a hand. "Badb!"

.... The other hand going to her mask is not a stylistic choice, but a matter of practicality, as it has begun to sag from the earlier battle, no doubt casting hobby glitter over the fallen like the black feathers of a scavenging bird.

Where her visual sight is closed, a mental field is cast, using the points of every possible opponent and ally (sans her and Akechi) to draw a map of negative space. She won't have to worry about any mundane opponents here, leading her to assume (hopefully correctly) that her mapping is accurate.

".... They're thicker this way, but it'll be faster. Reinforcements will be on their way soon if we go the slow and safe route."

She is not the kind of navigator that could mitigate that; she's not even a proper navigator. "Cut through the cognitions around the back. They'll block the way. Swing up through the top, and down. We won't even need to shroud ourselves; they'll know we're here anyway. Let them find us--" HEE-HO HEE-HO HEE-HO

DID UMIE AVOID THAT ROUTE BECAUSE THE DEMONS WERE CUTE? SHE MIGHT'VE, OH WELL, AKECHI HAS IT COVERED
</poem>

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Bird's Eye View toward Security: Go Big Or Go Home! Automap!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Security: Go Big Or Go Home - Round 5 =================================-
Goro Akechi Academics Failure
Second Coming Focus and Patra Fatigue: 4 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Academics Success
Bird's Eye View Automap Fatigue: 1 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Guts Success
Overkill Specialty Fatigue: 3 Morale: 5
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Boss-0, Scary-2, Shuffle: Sword-0, Stupor-2, and
Sublime-1
Final Conditions: Scary-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 5/6 |=====| ===================================================-
-==== Loot So Far: ==========================================================-
Items: 1, Money: 2, Gear: 1
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 6 - Challenge Level 1 ===========================================-
| Card: Bonus: Breaking the Prisoner |
| Approach Options: None |
| Conditions: Revelation - The best result. |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

You now have a key to the top floor elevator, where Producer Matsumoto can
be found. But that's not all you've found! As Rebel Cognitions cheer you on,
you spy some papers that have a lot of useful intelligence... Including a
snippet on the prisoner, Hana Fukami:

'We've almost broken the prisoner. The next strategy we're set to use is his
ex-fiance: Naho Enomoto. He was on track to be a productive member of
society marrying her... up until that brother of hers found out about his
habits and went after him. The scare that beating gave him could keep him on
the straight and narrow for good, now--if we use it right. Above all, we
can't allow him to start rebelling... can we use those damn pest Shadows and
Demons to scare him?'

You also find some nice photography equipment that would function in the
real world--or sell pretty nicely.

Final Loot: 1 Item, 2 boxes of Money, and 1 Pieces of Gear!
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Princess Umie sanctions this straightforward path, which is a good thing because it does not seem Kurou is inclined to stop once he's begun. Badb charts the course, and Kurou follows it, while the Prince recruits a royal hee-ho guard to even the odds.

Kurou endeavors to rapidly dwindle the number that has to be evened. If there is any flaw in the plan it's that it does take a concentrated effort to make sure Kurou does not eliminate the Jack Frosts in his fervor.

"Hee-ho," he says, flat, with the cheering Jack Frosts once the violence is complete, their foes lay fallen, and Kurou holds an unconscious Jack Frost against his shoulder as an ice pack.

In his other hand, he reviews the intelligence they've found as they ride the elevator upward. For a moment after he reads it, he is silent, struggling to understand how this relates to Hana Fukami exactly. She may be out, but Kurou's awareness rarely is.

"Oh," he finally realizes. "... I think... she will be more difficult than that to break, if she is from a world like this one..."

It may be the demonic version of it, but...

... TV production is truly daunting.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Akechi sees Kurou with a Jack Frost.

"Ah. A wise move. Believe it or not, I have a pact with a Jack Frost for a similar purpose."

Really!? Akechi has a Pact with a Jack Frost??? But-

Somehow, he pulls out a full Cooler.

And upon opening the lid, a Jack Frost sits up and waves at Kurou- before then handing him a whole Chilled Taiyaki. "Hee-Here you go!"

"It allows me to keep perishable food as healing items for much longer." He explains.

Of course, he has to find a new Jack Frost every time he needs to enter the Metaverse or a place like this but- details!

Akechi too reviews the intelligence as they go up, and hearing Kurou's remark...

"Yes, I do think they rather underestimate her. To someone like her..."

Pause.

"... there is little they could do that she has not already suffered."

It's a grave, cynical remark. But- it's also in his eyes, absolutely true.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie smiles as the two express their 'bonds' with Jack Frosts, but remains quiet, unable to feel comfortable saying anything.

Is... that what she had with Taro-kun? Then... ".... They suit you both," she says, quietly, with a nod.

'she will be more difficult than that to break, if she is from a world like this one...'

"I'm not sure if you have encountered any places like these, Ryouhara-kun, but this place is called a Kingdom. Think of it as... similar to the place that Shiryuu and I accidentally found a way into, if not outright created." She gestures to Kurou. "When I met Hana Fukami briefly, I felt something. The best way to describe it is 'bad luck', or 'a bad omen', probably due to my Persona's background. If we translate that into these surroundings... it may not be that I predicted the future, but was just able to see what was obvious to her, only in a cognitive way."

'There is little they could do that she has not already suffered.'

Umie reviews her brief interaction with Hana, who lacked her memories of the world outside. "... Prince-kun," she begins, touching her fingers against the paper, serving as evidence of this further crime. "You mentioned something about this place being a 'warning'. Maybe, like how Palaces are a showcase of an owner's delusional desire, this place is the opposite: a prison, showing a 'host''s surpression. They're isolated from the memories and things they hold important, which would normally allow them to weather those abuses. Sakurai-san was able to break from hers, but only with help. The same is happening here."

She lets her theory sit there, as she turns to the photography equipment.

"If either of you don't want to claim the photography equipment, I will. Rent's due." It's callous, but a way to make it clear that they won't be able to depend on her for access. "However, Ryouhara-kun, I think this camera... if you can get it to work, maybe you'd get something out of it." It may be putting Kurou on the spot here, but she doesn't want him to keep quiet just for her sake.
</poem>

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-09-16: Kaitou Saint Prince, Skeleton Hero, and Some Gremlin Rando Save the Day

2026-09-17T22:54:41Z

Tanyuu:

*'''Log: Kaitou Saint Prince, Skeleton Hero, and Some Gremlin Rando Save the Day'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Umie Akabane]], [[Goro Akechi]], [[Kurou Ryouhara]]
*'''Where:''' Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4
*'''OOC Date:''' September 16, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' January 10, 2013
*'''Summary''': ''Hana Fukabi has nothing to fear, since Kaitou Saint Prince and Skeleton Hero are here to save the day! Also, some gremlin princess? Geez, guys, fit a genre for your show or get out!''

----

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 1 - Challenge Level 2 ===========================================-
| Card: Lot: Sitcom Situation |
| Approach Options: Guts or Understanding |
| Conditions: Fairy - Subtract 1 Fatigue on success., Heartening - Guts Up |
| L1, and Terrifying - Guts Down L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

A comfy couch; a soothingly-painted wall. Cognitions are all around in the
audience as one of the outer studios films a sitcom!

There's a laugh track and everything, which might be unsettling because what
it chooses to laugh at is entirely inscrutable. There's also a studio
audience... which happens to be made up of demons who are happy to just
watch, apparently.

The Cognitions--little Shadowy guys in costumes--have heartfelt problems and
require care and kindness. Alternately, if you want to fake it, the hammier
you can get the better. Either way, there's no escaping Security--bigger
Cognitions with big hats--without playing along for a little while. Not only
that, but the demons won't tolerate their show being interrupted. As you
watch, you see one of the demons crushing... wait, is that a Mindless
Shadow? Yes, a Cowardly Maya, a blob of a Shadow with a blue mask, is
smashed under Jack Frost's heel.

If you're really lucky, they'll point you on your way towards the main
Producer's Complex! The demons in the audience might even give rewards for
great performances!

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Blackbird's Bite toward Lot: Sitcom Situation! Bravery and Focus!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It's all well and good to feel sorry for yourself, even if you're Umie Akabane. Eventually, though, you have to keep going, because that's the sort of person you are.

Hana Fukami isn't going to get out of this Kingdom if she did that, and she needs people like Umie to get her to see that. She doesn't need to see a sad, scared Umie who isn't in control.

So now, Umie is.... here. Frustratingly alone, though, if Kurou (or Akechi, for that matter) manages to intercept her before going in, she'll graciously allow for it. Alternately, if they intercept her now, she'll... do the same, actually.

Which leads to now: a 155cm young woman, standing with her arms akimbo, the oversized white jacket hanging down to her mid-thigh, black leggings and red sneakers underneath, matching the red mask across her face, outlined by that white hood.

"I'm here to supervise. This set has been way too disorganized. How are we going to get big ratings if we can't keep those shadows under control? The other shows are beating us as we speak." She points to the Jack Frost with a red fingernail. "Why can't you all be like him? That shadow has to be twice his size. That sort of go-get-them attitude is exactly the sort of thing we need around here..."

As the beefy security demons peers at the curiously bossy young woman, Umie folds her arms. "You wish to question my creditials because I'm a woman? Studies show shows like this need a woman's touch. We need emotions, pathos, struggle, a climax. People need to cry and feel good about themselves by the end. Oh, my name?" She sighs, glancing away, tapping a nail to her chin. ".... You really don't know who I am...? It figures, that a studio like this wouldn't know..."

It's a load of BS, but from the connotations she was getting during her last visit here... it seems like a way to put herself at an advantage.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
A hand on his chin, a Princely figure gets the lay of his land from his perch atop the studio lighting, as he scans the audience, then the security guards. "Hmm. Well I could always play on their terms."

As he focuses on one Security Guard in particular, "But where would be the fun in that?"

The Night We Stood - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTv61MFoyMQ

Hanging on with one arm he balances something lightly atop a big hat of the security Shadow Umie is tangling with, while winking at her behind a mask, he lets himself drop from the lighting, aiming a spinning kick at the Guard's head, sending him reeling onto the stage, as he pinwheels into the demons on stage.

"Look out! He's got a gun!"

And indeed, the gun which he'd propped up on them clatters onto the stage from the Security Shadow. A terrible disintegration ray looking thing.

"How dare you try to stop the show, these creatures have ''real'' problems that deserve kindness and dignity- I- Kaitou Saint Prince- won't allow this!"

Cue... the impromptu fight scene as he gets rushed by security!?

Did he just CHANGE THE WHOLE GENRE OF THE SHOW!?
</poem>

MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Guts toward Lot: Sitcom Situation! Base!

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
It is still part of Kurou's assignments to look after Umie... but perhaps it has become something else that drives him to keep a close eye on her. Something more than shinobi honor or his loyalty and concern for Shiryuu and how Umie may relate to the shihaisha's future well being. Something that has to do with fuzzy blankets and home cooked meals what turns a house into a home.

He'd like her to be able to return to it.

... Which is how Kurou ends up on the set, hidden in the shadows, with the chain of his weapon about to loop around one of the security guard's necks just as Umie scolds them.

Even if unnoticed, Kurou is caught in the scolding crossfire...!

They need emotions and pathos... Things that Kurou's not terribly good at. Because he isn't a woman, or just because he's Kurou...? He begins to retreat back into the shadows where he can't ruin this when...

The genre changes?!

... Well. No need to remain quiet, then.

Kurou finally announces himself by way of Gashadokuro screeching onto the studio and trying to devour security.

Some of the Shadow audience may also get caught in that terrible maw.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Overkill toward Lot: Sitcom Situation! Specialty!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Lot: Sitcom Situation - Round 1 =======================================-
Goro Akechi Guts Success
Guts Base Fatigue: 0 Morale: 2
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Guts Success
Blackbird's Bite Bravery and Focus Fatigue: 0 Morale: 3
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Guts Success
Overkill Specialty Fatigue: 0 Morale: 3
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Fairy-0, Heartening-2, and Terrifying-2
Final Conditions: Heartening-1 and Terrifying-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 1/6 |= | ===================================================-
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> When it comes to demons, one of the main principals Umie has learned is to maintain your hold. Might can matter, but a demon's size and muscle can be upended by another, smaller, more clever demon.

You must be that clever little demon.

As focused as Umie is on maintaining her hold on the demons playing security guards, she almost misses Akechi's careful balancing; the chain of Kurou's weapon gives her that polite reminder to look up, where she sees Akechi's wink.

She fights that little urge to cackle back; she has a role to maintain, after all.

She'll run with it.

"The legendary Kaitou Saint Prince!" she exclaims, feigning surprise...

.... until the Gashadokuro makes that surprise a reality. "Ryouhara-kun!" She's surprised, but secretly glad; with the two of them, it *would* be a lot easier, wouldn't it?

The demon audience is certainly loving these twists.

Picking up the gun (if it's not been picked up by Akechi or one of the guards), Umie tries to gain the two's attention, with a nod towards the door, pointed out by the helpful Jack Frost, who gives Kurou a thumbs-up. "That's an excellent skel-Hee-ton, hee hoo!"

</poem>
MONAD: Goro Akechi has drawn a new Challenge!

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 2 - Challenge Level 2 ===========================================-
| Card: Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff! |
| Approach Options: Understanding or Guts |
| Conditions: Heartening - Guts Up L1, Magnetic - Charm Up L2, Scary - Guts |
| Down L1, and Terrifying - Guts Down L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The group has arrived at the Producer's Complex, a big brown building with
lots of windows. On the bottom floor is reception: a desk near the elevator
that has a sign detailing what's on each floor. The bottom floor being
Reception, the next is the News Studio, Offices, Security HQ, and then of
course the Producer's Floor. However, simply going where you like is going
to be a problem...

Because this floor is absolutely crawling with security Cognitions. The
secretary Cognition has a nice computer and a nice hairstyle, but is as
small as the rest. The Security cognitions are twice as big Shadowy
creatures with suspenders and cigars. However, they're all following orders
from one Cognition with a big hat.

If you can convince that one that you belong here, maybe you can get through
this without a fight! With the Mindless Shadows and Demons they seem to be
dealing with, a bold story about how you're Shadow-Exterminating Specialists
or Demon Slayers might be just the ticket... or maybe you can just
sympathise with him about how hard it is to fight those lion wheels.

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
You should be thankful Kurou. Akechi saved you from an evening of actually managing ''feelings'' on Live Television.

Or at least, he'd find that to be a terrible time. "Fear not, Citizen." He replies to Umie's prompt, "You're safe now, while I'm about."

As he immediately makes for the gun. "Oh no you don't!" As he picks up his gun and rolls, before shooting one of the Security Guards center mass.

And kicking them right into Gashadokuro's open mouth.

"Haha- it seems you have a bone to pick with these terrorists as well, Ninja Necromancer!"

If the audience gets devoured, well, that's the peril of being in the front row.

You don't sit at the front row in a water park without expecting to 'get wet'. In the aftermath, as they join up. "Well well. What say we call a truce, for the moment, Ryouhara-san?"

He says cheerily, "Seeing as my 'Justice' currently seems to align with your own." Shouldn't he be more upset??? After all, they made off with a Joker of Umie's creepy ex-coworker-

No actually it's entirely understandable as to why he might treat this as a minor disagreement between them, in that respect.

As they sneak in towards the Producer's Complex, he grabs a pamphlet with a map of the studio, reviewing it- before hand it off to the two of them with a nod.

As they then move throughout the floor well- there's a bunch of Security Cognitions wandering around on set pathways, back and forth, back and forth with maddening regularity, but there comes a point when they can't hide.

Because it's just a big open room with a small Cognition with a big hat, surrounded by other Security Cognitions.

With a moment of weighing the situation, he nods, before turning to Kurou, "I do believe this situation calls for the storied techniques of the Ryouhara." He smiles cheerfully, "I'm certain your Princess would like to witness this as well."

Is Akechi forcefully recruiting Umie to double team Kurou!?

... Absolutely.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Some little demons are clever. Some are ruthless. Gashadokuro is certainly the latter... with Akechi's help in feeding the monster. Ninja Necromancer...

"Ah... it is... Skeleton Hero, I think."

At least have the confidence to sell some of this, Kurou...! Akechi and Umie both have to pick up the performative slack, but thankfully for Kurou, they do certainly manage. At least Jack Frost approves. Kurou raises his arm up like Jack Frost is wont to do.

"Hee ho," he repeats, deadpan.

On the matter of a truce, his head tilts at Akechi. "... But I have no present quarrel with you." It can hardly be a truce without ongoing hostilities, right...? (Maybe the truce is for ''you'', Kurou!) As long as this prince is no threat to Umie, then they are on the same side, and Kurou offers no objection.

When they can no longer rely on stealth, Kurou begins to reach for his weapon when Akechi prompts him. This makes Kurou pause, brow furrowing in deep consideration. Most of his techniques aren't for ''witnessing'', but...

"Diplomate, do not negotiate," he murmurs to himself, as a lesson he once observed of Shiryuu's encounter with a cop. He pieces together the chatter he has been hearing, and takes a single step toward the big hat Cognition.

He must be bold, and speak of sanctions. He must not give --

"... My apologies. What was this about a lion wheel...?"

They sounded quite annoyed by it... and if the Cognition should go off about it, then Kurou will nod along, listening quietly but intently to the rant as long as the Cognition sees fit to rave about it.

It would be impolite to interrupted once the Cognition gets going, after all.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Shut Up and Nod toward Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff!! Amrita!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'Fear note, Citizen.'
'"Haha- it seems you have a bone to pick with these terrorists as well, Ninja Necromancer!'

Oh, you're doing this on purpose, Akechi, and Umie knows it.

"I was doing just fine," Umie says, attempting to highlight the farce with a wink before she pouts and folds her arms. "I don't need a prince to save me. But I'll permit you to, just in case." (Please get the hint that this is an act, Akechi! Mostly. She *does* want you to come along. Please don't leave her high and dry, Kurou will likely follow you in order to appear polite!)

What a tangled web they all weave...

Flash forward to: now. Umie takes the pamphlet from Akechi with a nod to thanks. "... Let's see..." She itches underneath the edge of her faintly glittery red mask (this will be a mistake her apartment will pay for until the end of time), glancing up occasionally to follow the two's conversation.

'I'm certain your Princess...'

OH UMIE WALKED RIGHT INTO THAT ONE.

She sighs, throwing up her hands. "Finnnnnnne. "

This shall serve as her story for the evening(?). Everyone appreciates a little bit of theatre, right?

It'll set the stage nicely for Kurou's quiet understanding, and Akechi's Big Prince Energy.

</poem>
MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Guts toward Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff!! Base!
MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Guts toward Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff!! Base!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff! - Round 2 =============================-
Goro Akechi Guts Failure
Guts Base Fatigue: 1 Morale: 2
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Guts Failure
Guts Base Fatigue: 1 Morale: 3
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Understanding Failure
Shut Up and Nod Amrita Fatigue: 1 Morale: 3
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Heartening-1, Magnetic-2, Scary-2, and Terrifying-1
Final Conditions: Magnetic-1 and Scary-1
-================================================= Party Result: Failure ====-
-==== Reach: 1/6 |= | ===================================================-
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
The 'Kaitou' looks taken aback as Kurou chooses a name, before chuckling heartily, "Of course, my mistake." He looks so cheerful over it!

And then he moves into the fray with swashbuckling aplomb.

"Oh I don't doubt that, I merely wanted to speed things along. Besides- a place like this makes me inclined to stir the pot a little." He replies to Umie, before Kurou answers that there's no quarrel, "... Truly?" Akechi seems genuinely startled, "Well... if that's the case, then I suppose there's no issue joining forces."

Rather quick to set aside his own 'beef' isn't he? Well that's easy when his beef was feigned all along.

Kurou strolls up to the Shadows, and the head Shadow starts nodding along, "Yeah, we've gotta bunch of 'em loose on the lot right now." He puffs on a cigar, INDOORS, before staring down Kurou.

"Big intruder problem." He waves his Cigar, and at once, the Security Shadows start sidling around to take more favorable position.

"Think ya can help us get a handle on that?"

And of course, that's when they try to jump Kurou. "...I know what you're thinking, Akabane-kun." Akechi says to her, "And I take absolutely no responsibility for this outcome... Now let's get in there."

The coming fight is more brutal than anyone might like, but over swiftly. Akechi's mask is a little cracked on one side, he's got soot all over his uniform, and the dust cloud in the room was huge.

And after coughing once from the dust, he manages to get out, "Worth it."

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has drawn a new Challenge!

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 3 - Challenge Level 2 ===========================================-
| Card: Newsfloor: Political Guests |
| Approach Options: Charm or Guts |
| Conditions: Annoying - Charm Down L2, Chest - Add 2 Item/Money/Gear., |
| Magnetic - Charm Up L2, Reaper - Add 1 Fatigue., and Scary - Guts Down L1 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The news floor is expansive. Is it bigger than the building outside? Don't
worry about it. Right now, your group has found themselves in a lovely
little section that involves a lounge with a big desk and a number of plush
chairs. A Cognition host--a little Shadowy guy with a bushy mustache and
neat hair--sits behind the desk. He turns to the group as you arrive.

"Ah!" Cognitive Chaki says, "My guests are here! Come on, sit down. We've
got a roundtable to discuss!"

You are not the only guests; there's a number of besuited
Cognition-shadow-men on the other side, looking very serious in their
business attire.

"This is a political show! Today's topics include 'The Producer: Savior or
Sensei?', 'Rebels: Threat or Menace?', 'Shadows: Invaders or Pests?', and
'Demons: Weird or Frightening?' I hope you're ready to debate the issues and
debate them hard!"

If you screw this one up, you're going to have a lot of very mad Security
cognitions down on you. But if you succeed, there might be extra rewards...
Whether by winning charism or the bravery to speak your mind, dazzle the
Cognitions!

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>If Akechi is quick to drop any concept of being foes, Kurou sees no reason to pursue the train of thought. But is he really so guilelessly going along with it like there's no reason for mistrust? If he's suspicious, he's hiding it well.

Then again, his face doesn't emote much.

Which is really only a small part of Kurou's problem when it comes to speaking with demons. Only once the battle is over does Kurou allow himself to break in composure to wrinkle his nose from the cigar smoke. He sneezes, politely, into his vest rather than into his own scarf. It's a frightfully dainty sound for a murderer.

"Akabane-san, are you all right?" He looks to Akechi, too, extending this question by proxy. But they all seem to be ready and able to move on...

TV studios are very confusing places, Kurou is learning.

"Mm... the Flower Talk host has to deal with many difficult things," he murmurs as they are sat down opposite Cognitive guests and promised political debate. His brow furrows at these topics.

"... These topics are presented with false dichotomies. The foundation of this debate is already logically compromised and lesser in academic value for it."

He might need some help before he ends up starting yet another physical altercation with security -- if not the debate guests outright.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie, finally sensing Akechi's surprise, gives him a slow, widening, sharply-edged open smile. "Skeleton Hero," she says, having quietly adopted the name, "is very bare bones when it comes to these sorts of things~"

... Which places Akechi in a proper position to observe, if he's looking, how Umie's expression turns from that crone's shark-like grin to a lady's cheer. "I'm perfectly fine, Ryouhara-kun. I'm sorry, I should have invited you on my plans instead of making you follow like this." The change is lightning *quick*.

As is her way of abandoning the delicate princess title by charging after the prince in battle! But first-- "Avoiding taking responsibility for your actions... how princely of you."

Umie's not about to let him go without at least *one* comment, before leaping into the frag to go after her roommate.

Was it worth it?

The cackling of the crow princess seems to agree, no matter how much she'll try to deny it minutes later as she's trying to fix her bent mask.

----

Kurou is not alone in finding the spatial dimensions of these spaces to be misleading. Already, the pamphlet is proving to be less useful than the Badb's own mental radar. ".... The self-importance of this man is clearly on another level," she murmurs dryly, following along.

Map or no, they'll need to play along with these little games, and sneak out later. Maybe, with Kaitou Saint Prince being interviewed, he'll command the spotlight!

As Umie tries to think of the proper lies to present, she is reminded, as Kurou speaks his own truth, of where her own would align.

"Nothing is ever as black and white as those in charge would like to claim," she says, opting for a truthful perspective. "Demons seem weird and frightening because they present a different view on morality than what people are used to." She crosses her legs. "Ask yourself this: who benefits from you thinking this way? To think of rebels as uniformly 'bad' and the producer as uniformly 'good'... the answer is clear to me."

She shrugs. "If you want to live in a world of black and white, it's your life. However, at some point, when you find yourself in the category of 'black', those lies you've told yourself aren't going to be so comforting, will they?"
</poem>

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Blackbird's Bite toward Newsfloor: Political Guests! Bravery and Focus!
[OOC] Umie Akabane says, "bluray: delete that extra indent"

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"Au Contraire...! It is the most 'Princely' quality I could have."

After all, when do the Aristocracy ever take responsibility for their failings anywhere worldwide?

Akechi at least ''seems'' alright. And in the aftermath, "Quite. Here." Shares some meat buns with the other two!? Here in the Metaverse, they're restorative and take care of any hunger pangs!

As they move on, the Prince takes his seat in a comfortable way, crossing one leg over another and folding his hands together as he listens. Kurou takes issue with the way the topics are presented, and he whispers back to him, "It is the way of television. Audiences don't often desire conversations with nuance that would cause uncomfortable introspection. They want extremes that do not challenge their worldview."

And then- "Well before I launch into it- I'd like for the audience to indulge me for a moment. For you see-"

Akechi then smiles and stands up, then with a theatrical gesture takes off his mask, which vanishes into blue flames. "-I'd like to introduce myself- I'm your surprise guest tonight, Goro Akechi. I apologize for the trick, but I do hope you find it a little fun. And- moving along."

-=-=-

"Hmm. Yes. Messianic delusions aside- I think we should see the Producer as- a Warning." He smiles politely, "Or perhaps a threat, against stepping out of line. After all, he does more than simply sign your checks... does he not?"

-=-=-

"You've made your perspective quite clear, but should we not take the Rebels as a call towards practicing our craft in a more independent manner? Even the majority of the public say that most television these days is low-effort 'schlop' that says absolutely nothing. If we are to make better art then-"

-=-=-

"The question I believe is more 'why' they have entered this Studio. And I have several theories on the matter..."

-=-=-

"Akabane-kun. While I agree with you on some level- let us be honest with our audience here." He pauses, as if about to say something quite profound, "Demons are very weird, but quite the entertaining conversationalists, don't you think? I believe myself to be something of an expert on this matter."

And just like that, he conjures a whole briefcase, which he opens to reveal a small mountain of Life Stones. Much larger than the brief case should entail...

... in fact, several spill out onto the floor as he does this.

"Never again shall I go wanting when they demand a life stone to establish communications at all.

-=-=-

It would have been easier to just ''not'' speak out against the status quo, but- you know, after spending infinite appearances on television program after television program just taking the path of least resistance...

... it feels good to enjoy this little stint of rebelling against the premise of the show.

</poem>
MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Smooth Talk toward Newsfloor: Political Guests! Focus and Friendliness!
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Guts toward Newsfloor: Political Guests! Base!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Newsfloor: Political Guests - Round 3 =================================-
Goro Akechi Charm Success
Smooth Talk Focus and Friendliness Fatigue: 2 Morale: 4
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Guts Success
Blackbird's Bite Bravery and Focus Fatigue: 2 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Guts Success
Guts Base Fatigue: 2 Morale: 4
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Annoying-2, Chest-0, Magnetic-1, Reaper-0, and Scary-1
Final Conditions: Annoying-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 2/6 |== | ===================================================-
-==== Loot So Far: ==========================================================-
Items: 1, Money: 1, Gear: 0
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Umie mentions she ought to have invited him, and Kurou glances down. "... I apologize for not making my presence more known. I was not sure if you would want my assistance, but I was... worried."

There are roles being played and masks being worn. Yet Kurou remains simply Kurou.

And a Kurou is good at fighting. Speaking and debate? Not so much. He speaks with his own conviction and belief, but that's only part of the equation, as Akechi helpfully points out. Kurou blinks wide, beginning to nod slowly in understanding, but stopping halfway when he realizes he does not, in fact, understand.

"But that would result in less comprehensive information and hurt learning efficiency..."

Yet Akechi is already off to the charming races, with Umie able to back up Kurou's own starting statement and spin it to something far more eloquent.

He claps his gloved hands quietly in respect and awe. He is listening. He is learning.
respect and awe for her ability to spin that into something more eloquent.

"... If you set such rules, you cannot be surprised if others should play by them..." he murmurs of Umie's thoughts. It is a simple, but core belief of Kurou's personal philosophy. People often make rules thinking they are exempt from them. They are not.

Akechi meets their opponents head on, and he would know, more than anyone, ''how'' to say things that captivate audiences and make for compelling TV. And if there was going to be any objection...

A cascade of life stones flows onto the floor.

"Today's topic now includes Life Stones in My Mouth: Five or Fifty?!" Kurou is about to open his mouth to object to this strange binary, but the mustached Shadowy guy is already grabbing fist fulls to munch on ravenously.

They get by without a fight this time.

</poem>
MONAD: Umie Akabane has drawn a new Challenge!

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 4 - Challenge Level 4 ===========================================-
| Card: Office: Impress the Boss! |
| Approach Options: Charm or Academics |
| Conditions: Annoying - Charm Down L2, Chest - Add 2 Item/Money/Gear., Hard |
| - Understanding Down L1, and Sublime - Proficiency Up L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

Office space! Carpeted floors, wooden cubicles and tables, and of course,
the ever-present haze of cigarette smoke. Cognitions--little Shadow-guys in
collared shirts--scurry around trying to show themselves hard at work.

But there's a /boss/ Cognition here now. He is just as short as the others,
but he has a combover of black hair and Shadowy scalp, a bigger cigar than
most of the others, and a desk in its own room.

"Oh!" a Cognition says. "You're the new team! The VP is waiting for you!"

The Vice President!

"He doesn't like anybody... Good luck! You just have to show him that
presentation you've been working on!"

Oh no.

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)
[OOC] Kurou Ryouhara says, "bluray * a line got away from me there, delete the bit after "he is learning.""

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Sure, Umie would have quipped back. But what of the Kaitou Saint Prince?

However, the parts of her brain that would have been sated with a quick argument back and forth was instead overtaken by the rebellious(?) need to fight.

So, it's a little understandable that she'd be a little hungry. "My, my," Umie says, grinning appreciately as she graciously accepts the meatbun. "My dainty constitution wouldn't do well on an hungry stomach..."

As Akechi reveals himself, Umie, balancing the meat bun in her mouth, gives the Detective Prince a polite little clap. "Very surprising," she says, after swallowing her bite. "Just as surprising as the Skeleton Hero being a Ryouhara..."

-=-=-

The muted little clap to Umie's side draws the blonde's attention (not that one could appreciate that blonde hair fully, due to her not pulling down her hood like a cretin with no manners). She gives Kurou a small smile, dipping her head in a nod. "... Thank you. Hearing you, I realized I needed to speak my mind as well."

With the spotlight taken by the charismatic Akechi, it's easier to do it, and give Kurou a small piece of Umie's appreciation.

She snaps back to the debate, just in time for Akechi to draw on the debate for what turns out to be a clever setup.

One will forget a lady if she pilfers a few life stones herself. She's always in need of them, you see, for the reasons the detective has already set out.

-=-=-

'You just have to show him that presentation you've been working on!' There's the boss, and then... there's the VP.

Umie just keeps going.

"Yes, well." In her hand, Umie's suddenly holding one of those very life stones, slipping it around her fingers. "That's the fun part. He doesn't have to *like* us, he just has to realize we have a good idea." She glances back towards Kurou and Akechi, sharing a cheeky grin. "Of course, everyone thinks they have the next best thing, but the trick is to not only believe it, and make someone else believe it too."

"There's more than one way to change a heart." However, as Akechi had mentioned earlier, this Producer, as well as the VP, the boss, and everyone underneath, are warnings... or threats. It had been rattling around the blonde's mind ever since, as she began connecting the many pieces together, adding Maria's Kingdom on top.

They don't need to change any hearts here, but protect the heart of the person who is imprisoned.

</poem>
MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Cheeky Gremlin Talk toward Office: Impress the Boss!! Focus and Find!

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Umie gets a wink from him at it being called ''very'' surprising.

He pretends not to notice some of his life stones being taken. The thing he didn't say is that this is only ''one'' of his caches of Life Stones.

Mugging Demons for their life stones is highly effective, actually!

"Our Host is a most voracious sort. I think fifty is low-balling it, perhaps." WINKKKKKK, the audience laugh-tracks.

-=-=-

And suddenly they're giving a presentation. Goro Akechi considers his tack to this, then eventually nods, "Well, let's not keep the man waiting."

-=-=-

"... in conclusion, my market research shows one incontrovertible fact." Goro Akechi says, as he stands in front of a faux powerpoint presentation which just has a bar graph entirely unlabeled, only showing the numbers ''go up''.

"This man here-" As he dramatically gestures to the Vice President, "-is secretly plotting a coup against the Producer!"

Being that the room is full of TV personalities, he fully expects a chorus of gasps.

There's more than one way to change a heart as Umie said.

Straight up manipulation is one of those ways.

</poem>
MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Second Coming toward Office: Impress the Boss!! Focus and Patra!

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Notably, Kurou has no reaction to Goro Akechi's reveal. He is not a fan: not as in, 'personally dislikes', but as in, 'celebrities, major or minor, aren't exactly on Kurou's radar as a general rule'.

At Umie's gratitude, Kurou's clapping comes to a stilted halt. "Akabane-san's thoughts are important. You have taught me many things. And to the shihaisha, too."

But perhaps that better not get back to Shiryuu that he thinks that... more for Umie's peace than his own.

He is flung from one unfamiliar and confusing situation to another. This one might be worse. "Presentation...?" He looks to Umie. "... The only thing I have worked on is a poem, for Zakuro-san..." Which is entirely too heavy a subject for here and now...!

Umie and Akechi, once again, seem to understand this entirely strange situation. He is like a wood duckling kicked from the nest, and is struggling to figure out how to swim.

Kurou is silent the entire presentation. After Akechi's grand and dramatic reveal, Kurou reaches into his vest.

He produces a sticker sheet and quietly peels and presses a single gold star to the top of the bar going up.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Charm toward Office: Impress the Boss!! Base!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Office: Impress the Boss! - Round 4 ===================================-
Goro Akechi Academics Success
Second Coming Focus and Patra Fatigue: 2 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Charm Success
Cheeky Gremlin Talk Focus and Find Fatigue: 1 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Charm Failure
Charm Base Fatigue: 3 Morale: 4
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Annoying-1, Chest-0, Hard-2, and Sublime-2
Final Conditions: Sublime-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 3/6 |=== | ===================================================-
-==== Loot So Far: ==========================================================-
Items: 1, Money: 2, Gear: 1
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It's okay, Kurou. If Umie wasn't putting on a show, she would have told you that this feeling is a constant and neverending part of life.

The way Umie deals with it (as well as Shiryuu), is to keep moving forward with purpose, sometimes with little thought so as to avoid the Pessimistic Pit of Self Doubt.

A thrown rock can skip across a deep lake if you it in just the right way!

-=-=

The Boss frowns at the gold star on the chart. "... Doesn't that mean that we tried? We need proof of results, not... uh... wait."

He's a little slower on the draw here, having become purely focused on that line going upwards than Akechi's accusation of his superior. The others gathered, however, are much quicker to realize, letting lose a hush of gasps.

"Hn." His boss chair squeaks as he leans back, rolling a cigar in his hand. "That's a pretty ballsy thing to accuse someone of. What sort of person'd do such a thing?"

He considers, some more.

Umie glances towards Akechi, then back. "We were afraid that you'd be part of this scheme, but... clearly, you're not." She shows the palms of her hands. "A fine, incorruptible man like you would have never considered the possibility, because you always have the Producer's best interests at heart, wouldn't you? The same goes for all of you, right? The VP.... clearly..."

"We'd never be the sorts of people to lie to you, would we? You can trust us. The VP's been the one who's set this up from the start." Her eyelids lower. "You can't trust a thing he says."
</poem>

MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has drawn a new Challenge!

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 5 - Challenge Level 3 ===========================================-
| Card: Security: Go Big Or Go Home |
| Approach Options: Academics or Guts |
| Conditions: Boss - Add 1 Fatigue on failure., Scary - Guts Down L1, |
| Shuffle - Draw 1 Minor Arcana., Stupor - Academics Down L1, and Sublime - |
| Proficiency Up L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The security floor is ahead. When the elevator dings, the floor out there is
metal, with lots of glass and a /ton/ of security Cognitions, Shadowy men
with big muscles, suspenders, and important-looking hats. They don't notice
you immediately, but the offices on this floor include all the bigwigs in
the Producer's security team.

If you could just take a bunch of them out, that would make it much easier
to get through the facility in the future. Wouldn't it?

Well, have at it. Through boldness and strategy, your group engages in a
wide-scale tactical battle with the security floor, despite how intimidating
they can all be. Use the terrain, use the weapons and equipment lying
around, use any Mindless Shadows you can trick them into fighting, use
Demonic bribes, and use your heads to win!

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Once again, Umie and Akechi speak their way out of the situation. Once again, Kurou tries to play back the memory in his mind, peeling apart and piecing together the moments. Like a mental clock, he wants to break it apart and put it back together to know how it ticks, but what he's left with are scattered fragments that have no logical connection.

His brow is scrunched, and his eyes sharpened with his focus as they ride the elevator. He isn't even entirely sure why that conversation worked. He has seen TV at Umie's apartment, but behind the scenes...

It's all so very complex and confusing.

His thoughts dim as the white noise of the elevator takes over. Different sounds diffuse through the walls. If Umie and Akechi are speaking, Kurou is not, for once, listening. It's quiet. It's far, far too quiet.

''Ding.''

Kurou's assessment of the situation is nearly instant.

The time for talking is mercifully over.

He launches into the security floor, nearly disappearing into shadow and cover only to reappear and immediately begin driving his blade through Cognitions and devouring others with Gashadokuro.

And he is ''not'' leaving until he gets one hundred percent completion for killing everything in their area.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Overkill toward Security: Go Big Or Go Home! Specialty!

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
What kind of person would do such a thing, as make a false accusation? Well, Goro Akechi is all smiles at the prospect, with a gun in his hand, ready to show him what kind of person he is, should Umie fail at convincing the room.

Fortunately he doesn't have to use it.

"Honestly, I don't think we could have made it through there without Ryouhara-san. The Gold Star was crucial to our success..." He asides to Umie with a sardonic yet cheerful smile, as they make it away from the room.

Kurou probably does not hear that one.

''Ding.''

"Ah." Is his sole reaction when Kurou just- vanishes into the security floor. "He's rather enthusiastic, isn't he? As for myself..."

-=-=-

~Ten Seconds in the Future~

"Yes, that many life stones ''can'' be yours if you create a whole 'Hee-Horde' and overrun security."

-=-=-

~Back to Now~

"I think I'll go with a different strategy."

-=-=-

~Twenty five seconds in the future~

The Prince runs around the corner, quite in view of a whole squad of the Security Team. "Oh no- I surrender!" As he holds his hands up, the Legionnaires closing in.

Before he drops a smoke bomb from one of his hands he's held up, and the room starts to shake and tremble as a distant sound-

"HEE~HO! HEE~HO! HEE~HO!"

-grows closer by the second.

In another room, Akechi dusts off his hands as he listens to the screams as the Security Team meets its Icy Doom at the hands of the Hee-Horde of Jack Frosts.

</poem>
MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Second Coming toward Security: Go Big Or Go Home! Focus and Patra!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> There's been a lot of talking, that's for sure. Umie casts a quiet, sympathetic glance towards Kurou, gently attempting to check on his well-being.

It's hard to say what's happened recently, but he's been more attuned to her than himself. ....

Is it really just that?

*ding* Unfortunately, the time for doubt has passed. Umie feels the field, sensing the currents like it was the smell of grey rainclouds on the horizon, signaling a nasty but necessary feast of violence.

The Badb shall provide for the skeleton and the rebel their full due in blood and glory.

Umie closes her eyes, and raises a hand. "Badb!"

.... The other hand going to her mask is not a stylistic choice, but a matter of practicality, as it has begun to sag from the earlier battle, no doubt casting hobby glitter over the fallen like the black feathers of a scavenging bird.

Where her visual sight is closed, a mental field is cast, using the points of every possible opponent and ally (sans her and Akechi) to draw a map of negative space. She won't have to worry about any mundane opponents here, leading her to assume (hopefully correctly) that her mapping is accurate.

".... They're thicker this way, but it'll be faster. Reinforcements will be on their way soon if we go the slow and safe route."

She is not the kind of navigator that could mitigate that; she's not even a proper navigator. "Cut through the cognitions around the back. They'll block the way. Swing up through the top, and down. We won't even need to shroud ourselves; they'll know we're here anyway. Let them find us--" HEE-HO HEE-HO HEE-HO

DID UMIE AVOID THAT ROUTE BECAUSE THE DEMONS WERE CUTE? SHE MIGHT'VE, OH WELL, AKECHI HAS IT COVERED
</poem>

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Bird's Eye View toward Security: Go Big Or Go Home! Automap!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Security: Go Big Or Go Home - Round 5 =================================-
Goro Akechi Academics Failure
Second Coming Focus and Patra Fatigue: 4 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Academics Success
Bird's Eye View Automap Fatigue: 1 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Guts Success
Overkill Specialty Fatigue: 3 Morale: 5
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Boss-0, Scary-2, Shuffle: Sword-0, Stupor-2, and
Sublime-1
Final Conditions: Scary-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 5/6 |=====| ===================================================-
-==== Loot So Far: ==========================================================-
Items: 1, Money: 2, Gear: 1
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 6 - Challenge Level 1 ===========================================-
| Card: Bonus: Breaking the Prisoner |
| Approach Options: None |
| Conditions: Revelation - The best result. |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

You now have a key to the top floor elevator, where Producer Matsumoto can
be found. But that's not all you've found! As Rebel Cognitions cheer you on,
you spy some papers that have a lot of useful intelligence... Including a
snippet on the prisoner, Hana Fukami:

'We've almost broken the prisoner. The next strategy we're set to use is his
ex-fiance: Naho Enomoto. He was on track to be a productive member of
society marrying her... up until that brother of hers found out about his
habits and went after him. The scare that beating gave him could keep him on
the straight and narrow for good, now--if we use it right. Above all, we
can't allow him to start rebelling... can we use those damn pest Shadows and
Demons to scare him?'

You also find some nice photography equipment that would function in the
real world--or sell pretty nicely.

Final Loot: 1 Item, 2 boxes of Money, and 1 Pieces of Gear!
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Princess Umie sanctions this straightforward path, which is a good thing because it does not seem Kurou is inclined to stop once he's begun. Badb charts the course, and Kurou follows it, while the Prince recruits a royal hee-ho guard to even the odds.

Kurou endeavors to rapidly dwindle the number that has to be evened. If there is any flaw in the plan it's that it does take a concentrated effort to make sure Kurou does not eliminate the Jack Frosts in his fervor.

"Hee-ho," he says, flat, with the cheering Jack Frosts once the violence is complete, their foes lay fallen, and Kurou holds an unconscious Jack Frost against his shoulder as an ice pack.

In his other hand, he reviews the intelligence they've found as they ride the elevator upward. For a moment after he reads it, he is silent, struggling to understand how this relates to Hana Fukami exactly. She may be out, but Kurou's awareness rarely is.

"Oh," he finally realizes. "... I think... she will be more difficult than that to break, if she is from a world like this one..."

It may be the demonic version of it, but...

... TV production is truly daunting.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Akechi sees Kurou with a Jack Frost.

"Ah. A wise move. Believe it or not, I have a pact with a Jack Frost for a similar purpose."

Really!? Akechi has a Pact with a Jack Frost??? But-

Somehow, he pulls out a full Cooler.

And upon opening the lid, a Jack Frost sits up and waves at Kurou- before then handing him a whole Chilled Taiyaki. "Hee-Here you go!"

"It allows me to keep perishable food as healing items for much longer." He explains.

Of course, he has to find a new Jack Frost every time he needs to enter the Metaverse or a place like this but- details!

Akechi too reviews the intelligence as they go up, and hearing Kurou's remark...

"Yes, I do think they rather underestimate her. To someone like her..."

Pause.

"... there is little they could do that she has not already suffered."

It's a grave, cynical remark. But- it's also in his eyes, absolutely true.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie smiles as the two express their 'bonds' with Jack Frosts, but remains quiet, unable to feel comfortable saying anything.

Is... that what she had with Taro-kun? Then... ".... They suit you both," she says, quietly, with a nod.

'she will be more difficult than that to break, if she is from a world like this one...'

"I'm not sure if you have encountered any places like these, Ryouhara-kun, but this place is called a Kingdom. Think of it as... similar to the place that Shiryuu and I accidentally found a way into, if not outright created." She gestures to Kurou. "When I met Hana Fukami briefly, I felt something. The best way to describe it is 'bad luck', or 'a bad omen', probably due to my Persona's background. If we translate that into these surroundings... it may not be that I predicted the future, but was just able to see what was obvious to her, only in a cognitive way."

'There is little they could do that she has not already suffered.'

Umie reviews her brief interaction with Hana, who lacked her memories of the world outside. "... Prince-kun," she begins, touching her fingers against the paper, serving as evidence of this further crime. "You mentioned something about this place being a 'warning'. Maybe, like how Palaces are a showcase of an owner's delusional desire, this place is the opposite: a prison, showing a 'host''s surpression. They're isolated from the memories and things they hold important, which would normally allow them to weather those abuses. Sakurai-san was able to break from hers, but only with help. The same is happening here."

She lets her theory sit there, as she turns to the photography equipment.

"If either of you don't want to claim the photography equipment, I will. Rent's due." It's callous, but a way to make it clear that they won't be able to depend on her for access. "However, Ryouhara-kun, I think this camera... if you can get it to work, maybe you'd get something out of it." It may be putting Kurou on the spot here, but she doesn't want him to keep quiet just for her sake.
</poem>

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-09-16: Kaitou Saint Prince, Skeleton Hero, and Some Gremlin Rando Save the Day

2026-09-17T22:52:12Z

Tanyuu: Created page with "*'''Log: Kaitou Saint Prince, Skeleton Hero, and Some Gremlin Rando Save the Day''' *'''Cast:''' Umie Akabane, Goro Akechi, Kurou Ryouhara *'''Where:''' Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 *'''OOC Date:''' September 16, 2026 *'''IC Date:''' January 10, 2013 *'''Summary''': ''Hana Fukabi has nothing to fear, since Kaitou Saint Prince and Skeleton Hero are here to save the day! Also, some gremlin princess? Geez, guys, fit a genre for your show or get out!'' ---- (|===..."

*'''Log: Kaitou Saint Prince, Skeleton Hero, and Some Gremlin Rando Save the Day'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Umie Akabane]], [[Goro Akechi]], [[Kurou Ryouhara]]
*'''Where:''' Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4
*'''OOC Date:''' September 16, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' January 10, 2013
*'''Summary''': ''Hana Fukabi has nothing to fear, since Kaitou Saint Prince and Skeleton Hero are here to save the day! Also, some gremlin princess? Geez, guys, fit a genre for your show or get out!''

----

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 1 - Challenge Level 2 ===========================================-
| Card: Lot: Sitcom Situation |
| Approach Options: Guts or Understanding |
| Conditions: Fairy - Subtract 1 Fatigue on success., Heartening - Guts Up |
| L1, and Terrifying - Guts Down L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

A comfy couch; a soothingly-painted wall. Cognitions are all around in the
audience as one of the outer studios films a sitcom!

There's a laugh track and everything, which might be unsettling because what
it chooses to laugh at is entirely inscrutable. There's also a studio
audience... which happens to be made up of demons who are happy to just
watch, apparently.

The Cognitions--little Shadowy guys in costumes--have heartfelt problems and
require care and kindness. Alternately, if you want to fake it, the hammier
you can get the better. Either way, there's no escaping Security--bigger
Cognitions with big hats--without playing along for a little while. Not only
that, but the demons won't tolerate their show being interrupted. As you
watch, you see one of the demons crushing... wait, is that a Mindless
Shadow? Yes, a Cowardly Maya, a blob of a Shadow with a blue mask, is
smashed under Jack Frost's heel.

If you're really lucky, they'll point you on your way towards the main
Producer's Complex! The demons in the audience might even give rewards for
great performances!

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Blackbird's Bite toward Lot: Sitcom Situation! Bravery and Focus!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It's all well and good to feel sorry for yourself, even if you're Umie Akabane. Eventually, though, you have to keep going, because that's the sort of person you are.

Hana Fukami isn't going to get out of this Kingdom if she did that, and she needs people like Umie to get her to see that. She doesn't need to see a sad, scared Umie who isn't in control.

So now, Umie is.... here. Frustratingly alone, though, if Kurou (or Akechi, for that matter) manages to intercept her before going in, she'll graciously allow for it. Alternately, if they intercept her now, she'll... do the same, actually.

Which leads to now: a 155cm young woman, standing with her arms akimbo, the oversized white jacket hanging down to her mid-thigh, black leggings and red sneakers underneath, matching the red mask across her face, outlined by that white hood.

"I'm here to supervise. This set has been way too disorganized. How are we going to get big ratings if we can't keep those shadows under control? The other shows are beating us as we speak." She points to the Jack Frost with a red fingernail. "Why can't you all be like him? That shadow has to be twice his size. That sort of go-get-them attitude is exactly the sort of thing we need around here..."

As the beefy security demons peers at the curiously bossy young woman, Umie folds her arms. "You wish to question my creditials because I'm a woman? Studies show shows like this need a woman's touch. We need emotions, pathos, struggle, a climax. People need to cry and feel good about themselves by the end. Oh, my name?" She sighs, glancing away, tapping a nail to her chin. ".... You really don't know who I am...? It figures, that a studio like this wouldn't know..."

It's a load of BS, but from the connotations she was getting during her last visit here... it seems like a way to put herself at an advantage.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
A hand on his chin, a Princely figure gets the lay of his land from his perch atop the studio lighting, as he scans the audience, then the security guards. "Hmm. Well I could always play on their terms."

As he focuses on one Security Guard in particular, "But where would be the fun in that?"

The Night We Stood - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTv61MFoyMQ

Hanging on with one arm he balances something lightly atop a big hat of the security Shadow Umie is tangling with, while winking at her behind a mask, he lets himself drop from the lighting, aiming a spinning kick at the Guard's head, sending him reeling onto the stage, as he pinwheels into the demons on stage.

"Look out! He's got a gun!"

And indeed, the gun which he'd propped up on them clatters onto the stage from the Security Shadow. A terrible disintegration ray looking thing.

"How dare you try to stop the show, these creatures have ''real'' problems that deserve kindness and dignity- I- Kaitou Saint Prince- won't allow this!"

Cue... the impromptu fight scene as he gets rushed by security!?

Did he just CHANGE THE WHOLE GENRE OF THE SHOW!?
</poem>

MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Guts toward Lot: Sitcom Situation! Base!
Goro Akechi says, "There."

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
It is still part of Kurou's assignments to look after Umie... but perhaps it has become something else that drives him to keep a close eye on her. Something more than shinobi honor or his loyalty and concern for Shiryuu and how Umie may relate to the shihaisha's future well being. Something that has to do with fuzzy blankets and home cooked meals what turns a house into a home.

He'd like her to be able to return to it.

... Which is how Kurou ends up on the set, hidden in the shadows, with the chain of his weapon about to loop around one of the security guard's necks just as Umie scolds them.

Even if unnoticed, Kurou is caught in the scolding crossfire...!

They need emotions and pathos... Things that Kurou's not terribly good at. Because he isn't a woman, or just because he's Kurou...? He begins to retreat back into the shadows where he can't ruin this when...

The genre changes?!

... Well. No need to remain quiet, then.

Kurou finally announces himself by way of Gashadokuro screeching onto the studio and trying to devour security.

Some of the Shadow audience may also get caught in that terrible maw.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Overkill toward Lot: Sitcom Situation! Specialty!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Lot: Sitcom Situation - Round 1 =======================================-
Goro Akechi Guts Success
Guts Base Fatigue: 0 Morale: 2
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Guts Success
Blackbird's Bite Bravery and Focus Fatigue: 0 Morale: 3
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Guts Success
Overkill Specialty Fatigue: 0 Morale: 3
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Fairy-0, Heartening-2, and Terrifying-2
Final Conditions: Heartening-1 and Terrifying-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 1/6 |= | ===================================================-
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> When it comes to demons, one of the main principals Umie has learned is to maintain your hold. Might can matter, but a demon's size and muscle can be upended by another, smaller, more clever demon.

You must be that clever little demon.

As focused as Umie is on maintaining her hold on the demons playing security guards, she almost misses Akechi's careful balancing; the chain of Kurou's weapon gives her that polite reminder to look up, where she sees Akechi's wink.

She fights that little urge to cackle back; she has a role to maintain, after all.

She'll run with it.

"The legendary Kaitou Saint Prince!" she exclaims, feigning surprise...

.... until the Gashadokuro makes that surprise a reality. "Ryouhara-kun!" She's surprised, but secretly glad; with the two of them, it *would* be a lot easier, wouldn't it?

The demon audience is certainly loving these twists.

Picking up the gun (if it's not been picked up by Akechi or one of the guards), Umie tries to gain the two's attention, with a nod towards the door, pointed out by the helpful Jack Frost, who gives Kurou a thumbs-up. "That's an excellent skel-Hee-ton, hee hoo!"

</poem>
MONAD: Goro Akechi has drawn a new Challenge!

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 2 - Challenge Level 2 ===========================================-
| Card: Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff! |
| Approach Options: Understanding or Guts |
| Conditions: Heartening - Guts Up L1, Magnetic - Charm Up L2, Scary - Guts |
| Down L1, and Terrifying - Guts Down L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The group has arrived at the Producer's Complex, a big brown building with
lots of windows. On the bottom floor is reception: a desk near the elevator
that has a sign detailing what's on each floor. The bottom floor being
Reception, the next is the News Studio, Offices, Security HQ, and then of
course the Producer's Floor. However, simply going where you like is going
to be a problem...

Because this floor is absolutely crawling with security Cognitions. The
secretary Cognition has a nice computer and a nice hairstyle, but is as
small as the rest. The Security cognitions are twice as big Shadowy
creatures with suspenders and cigars. However, they're all following orders
from one Cognition with a big hat.

If you can convince that one that you belong here, maybe you can get through
this without a fight! With the Mindless Shadows and Demons they seem to be
dealing with, a bold story about how you're Shadow-Exterminating Specialists
or Demon Slayers might be just the ticket... or maybe you can just
sympathise with him about how hard it is to fight those lion wheels.

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
You should be thankful Kurou. Akechi saved you from an evening of actually managing ''feelings'' on Live Television.

Or at least, he'd find that to be a terrible time. "Fear not, Citizen." He replies to Umie's prompt, "You're safe now, while I'm about."

As he immediately makes for the gun. "Oh no you don't!" As he picks up his gun and rolls, before shooting one of the Security Guards center mass.

And kicking them right into Gashadokuro's open mouth.

"Haha- it seems you have a bone to pick with these terrorists as well, Ninja Necromancer!"

If the audience gets devoured, well, that's the peril of being in the front row.

You don't sit at the front row in a water park without expecting to 'get wet'. In the aftermath, as they join up. "Well well. What say we call a truce, for the moment, Ryouhara-san?"

He says cheerily, "Seeing as my 'Justice' currently seems to align with your own." Shouldn't he be more upset??? After all, they made off with a Joker of Umie's creepy ex-coworker-

No actually it's entirely understandable as to why he might treat this as a minor disagreement between them, in that respect.

As they sneak in towards the Producer's Complex, he grabs a pamphlet with a map of the studio, reviewing it- before hand it off to the two of them with a nod.

As they then move throughout the floor well- there's a bunch of Security Cognitions wandering around on set pathways, back and forth, back and forth with maddening regularity, but there comes a point when they can't hide.

Because it's just a big open room with a small Cognition with a big hat, surrounded by other Security Cognitions.

With a moment of weighing the situation, he nods, before turning to Kurou, "I do believe this situation calls for the storied techniques of the Ryouhara." He smiles cheerfully, "I'm certain your Princess would like to witness this as well."

Is Akechi forcefully recruiting Umie to double team Kurou!?

... Absolutely.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Some little demons are clever. Some are ruthless. Gashadokuro is certainly the latter... with Akechi's help in feeding the monster. Ninja Necromancer...

"Ah... it is... Skeleton Hero, I think."

At least have the confidence to sell some of this, Kurou...! Akechi and Umie both have to pick up the performative slack, but thankfully for Kurou, they do certainly manage. At least Jack Frost approves. Kurou raises his arm up like Jack Frost is wont to do.

"Hee ho," he repeats, deadpan.

On the matter of a truce, his head tilts at Akechi. "... But I have no present quarrel with you." It can hardly be a truce without ongoing hostilities, right...? (Maybe the truce is for ''you'', Kurou!) As long as this prince is no threat to Umie, then they are on the same side, and Kurou offers no objection.

When they can no longer rely on stealth, Kurou begins to reach for his weapon when Akechi prompts him. This makes Kurou pause, brow furrowing in deep consideration. Most of his techniques aren't for ''witnessing'', but...

"Diplomate, do not negotiate," he murmurs to himself, as a lesson he once observed of Shiryuu's encounter with a cop. He pieces together the chatter he has been hearing, and takes a single step toward the big hat Cognition.

He must be bold, and speak of sanctions. He must not give --

"... My apologies. What was this about a lion wheel...?"

They sounded quite annoyed by it... and if the Cognition should go off about it, then Kurou will nod along, listening quietly but intently to the rant as long as the Cognition sees fit to rave about it.

It would be impolite to interrupted once the Cognition gets going, after all.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Shut Up and Nod toward Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff!! Amrita!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'Fear note, Citizen.'
'"Haha- it seems you have a bone to pick with these terrorists as well, Ninja Necromancer!'

Oh, you're doing this on purpose, Akechi, and Umie knows it.

"I was doing just fine," Umie says, attempting to highlight the farce with a wink before she pouts and folds her arms. "I don't need a prince to save me. But I'll permit you to, just in case." (Please get the hint that this is an act, Akechi! Mostly. She *does* want you to come along. Please don't leave her high and dry, Kurou will likely follow you in order to appear polite!)

What a tangled web they all weave...

Flash forward to: now. Umie takes the pamphlet from Akechi with a nod to thanks. "... Let's see..." She itches underneath the edge of her faintly glittery red mask (this will be a mistake her apartment will pay for until the end of time), glancing up occasionally to follow the two's conversation.

'I'm certain your Princess...'

OH UMIE WALKED RIGHT INTO THAT ONE.

She sighs, throwing up her hands. "Finnnnnnne. "

This shall serve as her story for the evening(?). Everyone appreciates a little bit of theatre, right?

It'll set the stage nicely for Kurou's quiet understanding, and Akechi's Big Prince Energy.

</poem>
MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Guts toward Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff!! Base!
MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Guts toward Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff!! Base!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Reception: Bluff, Bluff, Bluff! - Round 2 =============================-
Goro Akechi Guts Failure
Guts Base Fatigue: 1 Morale: 2
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Guts Failure
Guts Base Fatigue: 1 Morale: 3
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Understanding Failure
Shut Up and Nod Amrita Fatigue: 1 Morale: 3
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Heartening-1, Magnetic-2, Scary-2, and Terrifying-1
Final Conditions: Magnetic-1 and Scary-1
-================================================= Party Result: Failure ====-
-==== Reach: 1/6 |= | ===================================================-
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
The 'Kaitou' looks taken aback as Kurou chooses a name, before chuckling heartily, "Of course, my mistake." He looks so cheerful over it!

And then he moves into the fray with swashbuckling aplomb.

"Oh I don't doubt that, I merely wanted to speed things along. Besides- a place like this makes me inclined to stir the pot a little." He replies to Umie, before Kurou answers that there's no quarrel, "... Truly?" Akechi seems genuinely startled, "Well... if that's the case, then I suppose there's no issue joining forces."

Rather quick to set aside his own 'beef' isn't he? Well that's easy when his beef was feigned all along.

Kurou strolls up to the Shadows, and the head Shadow starts nodding along, "Yeah, we've gotta bunch of 'em loose on the lot right now." He puffs on a cigar, INDOORS, before staring down Kurou.

"Big intruder problem." He waves his Cigar, and at once, the Security Shadows start sidling around to take more favorable position.

"Think ya can help us get a handle on that?"

And of course, that's when they try to jump Kurou. "...I know what you're thinking, Akabane-kun." Akechi says to her, "And I take absolutely no responsibility for this outcome... Now let's get in there."

The coming fight is more brutal than anyone might like, but over swiftly. Akechi's mask is a little cracked on one side, he's got soot all over his uniform, and the dust cloud in the room was huge.

And after coughing once from the dust, he manages to get out, "Worth it."

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has drawn a new Challenge!

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 3 - Challenge Level 2 ===========================================-
| Card: Newsfloor: Political Guests |
| Approach Options: Charm or Guts |
| Conditions: Annoying - Charm Down L2, Chest - Add 2 Item/Money/Gear., |
| Magnetic - Charm Up L2, Reaper - Add 1 Fatigue., and Scary - Guts Down L1 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The news floor is expansive. Is it bigger than the building outside? Don't
worry about it. Right now, your group has found themselves in a lovely
little section that involves a lounge with a big desk and a number of plush
chairs. A Cognition host--a little Shadowy guy with a bushy mustache and
neat hair--sits behind the desk. He turns to the group as you arrive.

"Ah!" Cognitive Chaki says, "My guests are here! Come on, sit down. We've
got a roundtable to discuss!"

You are not the only guests; there's a number of besuited
Cognition-shadow-men on the other side, looking very serious in their
business attire.

"This is a political show! Today's topics include 'The Producer: Savior or
Sensei?', 'Rebels: Threat or Menace?', 'Shadows: Invaders or Pests?', and
'Demons: Weird or Frightening?' I hope you're ready to debate the issues and
debate them hard!"

If you screw this one up, you're going to have a lot of very mad Security
cognitions down on you. But if you succeed, there might be extra rewards...
Whether by winning charism or the bravery to speak your mind, dazzle the
Cognitions!

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>If Akechi is quick to drop any concept of being foes, Kurou sees no reason to pursue the train of thought. But is he really so guilelessly going along with it like there's no reason for mistrust? If he's suspicious, he's hiding it well.

Then again, his face doesn't emote much.

Which is really only a small part of Kurou's problem when it comes to speaking with demons. Only once the battle is over does Kurou allow himself to break in composure to wrinkle his nose from the cigar smoke. He sneezes, politely, into his vest rather than into his own scarf. It's a frightfully dainty sound for a murderer.

"Akabane-san, are you all right?" He looks to Akechi, too, extending this question by proxy. But they all seem to be ready and able to move on...

TV studios are very confusing places, Kurou is learning.

"Mm... the Flower Talk host has to deal with many difficult things," he murmurs as they are sat down opposite Cognitive guests and promised political debate. His brow furrows at these topics.

"... These topics are presented with false dichotomies. The foundation of this debate is already logically compromised and lesser in academic value for it."

He might need some help before he ends up starting yet another physical altercation with security -- if not the debate guests outright.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie, finally sensing Akechi's surprise, gives him a slow, widening, sharply-edged open smile. "Skeleton Hero," she says, having quietly adopted the name, "is very bare bones when it comes to these sorts of things~"

... Which places Akechi in a proper position to observe, if he's looking, how Umie's expression turns from that crone's shark-like grin to a lady's cheer. "I'm perfectly fine, Ryouhara-kun. I'm sorry, I should have invited you on my plans instead of making you follow like this." The change is lightning *quick*.

As is her way of abandoning the delicate princess title by charging after the prince in battle! But first-- "Avoiding taking responsibility for your actions... how princely of you."

Umie's not about to let him go without at least *one* comment, before leaping into the frag to go after her roommate.

Was it worth it?

The cackling of the crow princess seems to agree, no matter how much she'll try to deny it minutes later as she's trying to fix her bent mask.

----

Kurou is not alone in finding the spatial dimensions of these spaces to be misleading. Already, the pamphlet is proving to be less useful than the Badb's own mental radar. ".... The self-importance of this man is clearly on another level," she murmurs dryly, following along.

Map or no, they'll need to play along with these little games, and sneak out later. Maybe, with Kaitou Saint Prince being interviewed, he'll command the spotlight!

As Umie tries to think of the proper lies to present, she is reminded, as Kurou speaks his own truth, of where her own would align.

"Nothing is ever as black and white as those in charge would like to claim," she says, opting for a truthful perspective. "Demons seem weird and frightening because they present a different view on morality than what people are used to." She crosses her legs. "Ask yourself this: who benefits from you thinking this way? To think of rebels as uniformly 'bad' and the producer as uniformly 'good'... the answer is clear to me."

She shrugs. "If you want to live in a world of black and white, it's your life. However, at some point, when you find yourself in the category of 'black', those lies you've told yourself aren't going to be so comforting, will they?"
</poem>

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Blackbird's Bite toward Newsfloor: Political Guests! Bravery and Focus!
[OOC] Umie Akabane says, "bluray: delete that extra indent"

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"Au Contraire...! It is the most 'Princely' quality I could have."

After all, when do the Aristocracy ever take responsibility for their failings anywhere worldwide?

Akechi at least ''seems'' alright. And in the aftermath, "Quite. Here." Shares some meat buns with the other two!? Here in the Metaverse, they're restorative and take care of any hunger pangs!

As they move on, the Prince takes his seat in a comfortable way, crossing one leg over another and folding his hands together as he listens. Kurou takes issue with the way the topics are presented, and he whispers back to him, "It is the way of television. Audiences don't often desire conversations with nuance that would cause uncomfortable introspection. They want extremes that do not challenge their worldview."

And then- "Well before I launch into it- I'd like for the audience to indulge me for a moment. For you see-"

Akechi then smiles and stands up, then with a theatrical gesture takes off his mask, which vanishes into blue flames. "-I'd like to introduce myself- I'm your surprise guest tonight, Goro Akechi. I apologize for the trick, but I do hope you find it a little fun. And- moving along."

-=-=-

"Hmm. Yes. Messianic delusions aside- I think we should see the Producer as- a Warning." He smiles politely, "Or perhaps a threat, against stepping out of line. After all, he does more than simply sign your checks... does he not?"

-=-=-

"You've made your perspective quite clear, but should we not take the Rebels as a call towards practicing our craft in a more independent manner? Even the majority of the public say that most television these days is low-effort 'schlop' that says absolutely nothing. If we are to make better art then-"

-=-=-

"The question I believe is more 'why' they have entered this Studio. And I have several theories on the matter..."

-=-=-

"Akabane-kun. While I agree with you on some level- let us be honest with our audience here." He pauses, as if about to say something quite profound, "Demons are very weird, but quite the entertaining conversationalists, don't you think? I believe myself to be something of an expert on this matter."

And just like that, he conjures a whole briefcase, which he opens to reveal a small mountain of Life Stones. Much larger than the brief case should entail...

... in fact, several spill out onto the floor as he does this.

"Never again shall I go wanting when they demand a life stone to establish communications at all.

-=-=-

It would have been easier to just ''not'' speak out against the status quo, but- you know, after spending infinite appearances on television program after television program just taking the path of least resistance...

... it feels good to enjoy this little stint of rebelling against the premise of the show.

</poem>
MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Smooth Talk toward Newsfloor: Political Guests! Focus and Friendliness!
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Guts toward Newsfloor: Political Guests! Base!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Newsfloor: Political Guests - Round 3 =================================-
Goro Akechi Charm Success
Smooth Talk Focus and Friendliness Fatigue: 2 Morale: 4
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Guts Success
Blackbird's Bite Bravery and Focus Fatigue: 2 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Guts Success
Guts Base Fatigue: 2 Morale: 4
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Annoying-2, Chest-0, Magnetic-1, Reaper-0, and Scary-1
Final Conditions: Annoying-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 2/6 |== | ===================================================-
-==== Loot So Far: ==========================================================-
Items: 1, Money: 1, Gear: 0
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Umie mentions she ought to have invited him, and Kurou glances down. "... I apologize for not making my presence more known. I was not sure if you would want my assistance, but I was... worried."

There are roles being played and masks being worn. Yet Kurou remains simply Kurou.

And a Kurou is good at fighting. Speaking and debate? Not so much. He speaks with his own conviction and belief, but that's only part of the equation, as Akechi helpfully points out. Kurou blinks wide, beginning to nod slowly in understanding, but stopping halfway when he realizes he does not, in fact, understand.

"But that would result in less comprehensive information and hurt learning efficiency..."

Yet Akechi is already off to the charming races, with Umie able to back up Kurou's own starting statement and spin it to something far more eloquent.

He claps his gloved hands quietly in respect and awe. He is listening. He is learning.
respect and awe for her ability to spin that into something more eloquent.

"... If you set such rules, you cannot be surprised if others should play by them..." he murmurs of Umie's thoughts. It is a simple, but core belief of Kurou's personal philosophy. People often make rules thinking they are exempt from them. They are not.

Akechi meets their opponents head on, and he would know, more than anyone, ''how'' to say things that captivate audiences and make for compelling TV. And if there was going to be any objection...

A cascade of life stones flows onto the floor.

"Today's topic now includes Life Stones in My Mouth: Five or Fifty?!" Kurou is about to open his mouth to object to this strange binary, but the mustached Shadowy guy is already grabbing fist fulls to munch on ravenously.

They get by without a fight this time.

</poem>
MONAD: Umie Akabane has drawn a new Challenge!

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 4 - Challenge Level 4 ===========================================-
| Card: Office: Impress the Boss! |
| Approach Options: Charm or Academics |
| Conditions: Annoying - Charm Down L2, Chest - Add 2 Item/Money/Gear., Hard |
| - Understanding Down L1, and Sublime - Proficiency Up L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

Office space! Carpeted floors, wooden cubicles and tables, and of course,
the ever-present haze of cigarette smoke. Cognitions--little Shadow-guys in
collared shirts--scurry around trying to show themselves hard at work.

But there's a /boss/ Cognition here now. He is just as short as the others,
but he has a combover of black hair and Shadowy scalp, a bigger cigar than
most of the others, and a desk in its own room.

"Oh!" a Cognition says. "You're the new team! The VP is waiting for you!"

The Vice President!

"He doesn't like anybody... Good luck! You just have to show him that
presentation you've been working on!"

Oh no.

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)
[OOC] Kurou Ryouhara says, "bluray * a line got away from me there, delete the bit after "he is learning.""

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Sure, Umie would have quipped back. But what of the Kaitou Saint Prince?

However, the parts of her brain that would have been sated with a quick argument back and forth was instead overtaken by the rebellious(?) need to fight.

So, it's a little understandable that she'd be a little hungry. "My, my," Umie says, grinning appreciately as she graciously accepts the meatbun. "My dainty constitution wouldn't do well on an hungry stomach..."

As Akechi reveals himself, Umie, balancing the meat bun in her mouth, gives the Detective Prince a polite little clap. "Very surprising," she says, after swallowing her bite. "Just as surprising as the Skeleton Hero being a Ryouhara..."

-=-=-

The muted little clap to Umie's side draws the blonde's attention (not that one could appreciate that blonde hair fully, due to her not pulling down her hood like a cretin with no manners). She gives Kurou a small smile, dipping her head in a nod. "... Thank you. Hearing you, I realized I needed to speak my mind as well."

With the spotlight taken by the charismatic Akechi, it's easier to do it, and give Kurou a small piece of Umie's appreciation.

She snaps back to the debate, just in time for Akechi to draw on the debate for what turns out to be a clever setup.

One will forget a lady if she pilfers a few life stones herself. She's always in need of them, you see, for the reasons the detective has already set out.

-=-=-

'You just have to show him that presentation you've been working on!' There's the boss, and then... there's the VP.

Umie just keeps going.

"Yes, well." In her hand, Umie's suddenly holding one of those very life stones, slipping it around her fingers. "That's the fun part. He doesn't have to *like* us, he just has to realize we have a good idea." She glances back towards Kurou and Akechi, sharing a cheeky grin. "Of course, everyone thinks they have the next best thing, but the trick is to not only believe it, and make someone else believe it too."

"There's more than one way to change a heart." However, as Akechi had mentioned earlier, this Producer, as well as the VP, the boss, and everyone underneath, are warnings... or threats. It had been rattling around the blonde's mind ever since, as she began connecting the many pieces together, adding Maria's Kingdom on top.

They don't need to change any hearts here, but protect the heart of the person who is imprisoned.

</poem>
MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Cheeky Gremlin Talk toward Office: Impress the Boss!! Focus and Find!

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Umie gets a wink from him at it being called ''very'' surprising.

He pretends not to notice some of his life stones being taken. The thing he didn't say is that this is only ''one'' of his caches of Life Stones.

Mugging Demons for their life stones is highly effective, actually!

"Our Host is a most voracious sort. I think fifty is low-balling it, perhaps." WINKKKKKK, the audience laugh-tracks.

-=-=-

And suddenly they're giving a presentation. Goro Akechi considers his tack to this, then eventually nods, "Well, let's not keep the man waiting."

-=-=-

"... in conclusion, my market research shows one incontrovertible fact." Goro Akechi says, as he stands in front of a faux powerpoint presentation which just has a bar graph entirely unlabeled, only showing the numbers ''go up''.

"This man here-" As he dramatically gestures to the Vice President, "-is secretly plotting a coup against the Producer!"

Being that the room is full of TV personalities, he fully expects a chorus of gasps.

There's more than one way to change a heart as Umie said.

Straight up manipulation is one of those ways.

</poem>
MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Second Coming toward Office: Impress the Boss!! Focus and Patra!

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Notably, Kurou has no reaction to Goro Akechi's reveal. He is not a fan: not as in, 'personally dislikes', but as in, 'celebrities, major or minor, aren't exactly on Kurou's radar as a general rule'.

At Umie's gratitude, Kurou's clapping comes to a stilted halt. "Akabane-san's thoughts are important. You have taught me many things. And to the shihaisha, too."

But perhaps that better not get back to Shiryuu that he thinks that... more for Umie's peace than his own.

He is flung from one unfamiliar and confusing situation to another. This one might be worse. "Presentation...?" He looks to Umie. "... The only thing I have worked on is a poem, for Zakuro-san..." Which is entirely too heavy a subject for here and now...!

Umie and Akechi, once again, seem to understand this entirely strange situation. He is like a wood duckling kicked from the nest, and is struggling to figure out how to swim.

Kurou is silent the entire presentation. After Akechi's grand and dramatic reveal, Kurou reaches into his vest.

He produces a sticker sheet and quietly peels and presses a single gold star to the top of the bar going up.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Charm toward Office: Impress the Boss!! Base!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Office: Impress the Boss! - Round 4 ===================================-
Goro Akechi Academics Success
Second Coming Focus and Patra Fatigue: 2 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Charm Success
Cheeky Gremlin Talk Focus and Find Fatigue: 1 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Charm Failure
Charm Base Fatigue: 3 Morale: 4
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Annoying-1, Chest-0, Hard-2, and Sublime-2
Final Conditions: Sublime-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 3/6 |=== | ===================================================-
-==== Loot So Far: ==========================================================-
Items: 1, Money: 2, Gear: 1
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It's okay, Kurou. If Umie wasn't putting on a show, she would have told you that this feeling is a constant and neverending part of life.

The way Umie deals with it (as well as Shiryuu), is to keep moving forward with purpose, sometimes with little thought so as to avoid the Pessimistic Pit of Self Doubt.

A thrown rock can skip across a deep lake if you it in just the right way!

-=-=

The Boss frowns at the gold star on the chart. "... Doesn't that mean that we tried? We need proof of results, not... uh... wait."

He's a little slower on the draw here, having become purely focused on that line going upwards than Akechi's accusation of his superior. The others gathered, however, are much quicker to realize, letting lose a hush of gasps.

"Hn." His boss chair squeaks as he leans back, rolling a cigar in his hand. "That's a pretty ballsy thing to accuse someone of. What sort of person'd do such a thing?"

He considers, some more.

Umie glances towards Akechi, then back. "We were afraid that you'd be part of this scheme, but... clearly, you're not." She shows the palms of her hands. "A fine, incorruptible man like you would have never considered the possibility, because you always have the Producer's best interests at heart, wouldn't you? The same goes for all of you, right? The VP.... clearly..."

"We'd never be the sorts of people to lie to you, would we? You can trust us. The VP's been the one who's set this up from the start." Her eyelids lower. "You can't trust a thing he says."
</poem>

MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has drawn a new Challenge!

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 5 - Challenge Level 3 ===========================================-
| Card: Security: Go Big Or Go Home |
| Approach Options: Academics or Guts |
| Conditions: Boss - Add 1 Fatigue on failure., Scary - Guts Down L1, |
| Shuffle - Draw 1 Minor Arcana., Stupor - Academics Down L1, and Sublime - |
| Proficiency Up L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The security floor is ahead. When the elevator dings, the floor out there is
metal, with lots of glass and a /ton/ of security Cognitions, Shadowy men
with big muscles, suspenders, and important-looking hats. They don't notice
you immediately, but the offices on this floor include all the bigwigs in
the Producer's security team.

If you could just take a bunch of them out, that would make it much easier
to get through the facility in the future. Wouldn't it?

Well, have at it. Through boldness and strategy, your group engages in a
wide-scale tactical battle with the security floor, despite how intimidating
they can all be. Use the terrain, use the weapons and equipment lying
around, use any Mindless Shadows you can trick them into fighting, use
Demonic bribes, and use your heads to win!

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Once again, Umie and Akechi speak their way out of the situation. Once again, Kurou tries to play back the memory in his mind, peeling apart and piecing together the moments. Like a mental clock, he wants to break it apart and put it back together to know how it ticks, but what he's left with are scattered fragments that have no logical connection.

His brow is scrunched, and his eyes sharpened with his focus as they ride the elevator. He isn't even entirely sure why that conversation worked. He has seen TV at Umie's apartment, but behind the scenes...

It's all so very complex and confusing.

His thoughts dim as the white noise of the elevator takes over. Different sounds diffuse through the walls. If Umie and Akechi are speaking, Kurou is not, for once, listening. It's quiet. It's far, far too quiet.

''Ding.''

Kurou's assessment of the situation is nearly instant.

The time for talking is mercifully over.

He launches into the security floor, nearly disappearing into shadow and cover only to reappear and immediately begin driving his blade through Cognitions and devouring others with Gashadokuro.

And he is ''not'' leaving until he gets one hundred percent completion for killing everything in their area.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Overkill toward Security: Go Big Or Go Home! Specialty!

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
What kind of person would do such a thing, as make a false accusation? Well, Goro Akechi is all smiles at the prospect, with a gun in his hand, ready to show him what kind of person he is, should Umie fail at convincing the room.

Fortunately he doesn't have to use it.

"Honestly, I don't think we could have made it through there without Ryouhara-san. The Gold Star was crucial to our success..." He asides to Umie with a sardonic yet cheerful smile, as they make it away from the room.

Kurou probably does not hear that one.

''Ding.''

"Ah." Is his sole reaction when Kurou just- vanishes into the security floor. "He's rather enthusiastic, isn't he? As for myself..."

-=-=-

~Ten Seconds in the Future~

"Yes, that many life stones ''can'' be yours if you create a whole 'Hee-Horde' and overrun security."

-=-=-

~Back to Now~

"I think I'll go with a different strategy."

-=-=-

~Twenty five seconds in the future~

The Prince runs around the corner, quite in view of a whole squad of the Security Team. "Oh no- I surrender!" As he holds his hands up, the Legionnaires closing in.

Before he drops a smoke bomb from one of his hands he's held up, and the room starts to shake and tremble as a distant sound-

"HEE~HO! HEE~HO! HEE~HO!"

-grows closer by the second.

In another room, Akechi dusts off his hands as he listens to the screams as the Security Team meets its Icy Doom at the hands of the Hee-Horde of Jack Frosts.

</poem>
MONAD: Goro Akechi has acted with Second Coming toward Security: Go Big Or Go Home! Focus and Patra!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> There's been a lot of talking, that's for sure. Umie casts a quiet, sympathetic glance towards Kurou, gently attempting to check on his well-being.

It's hard to say what's happened recently, but he's been more attuned to her than himself. ....

Is it really just that?

*ding* Unfortunately, the time for doubt has passed. Umie feels the field, sensing the currents like it was the smell of grey rainclouds on the horizon, signaling a nasty but necessary feast of violence.

The Badb shall provide for the skeleton and the rebel their full due in blood and glory.

Umie closes her eyes, and raises a hand. "Badb!"

.... The other hand going to her mask is not a stylistic choice, but a matter of practicality, as it has begun to sag from the earlier battle, no doubt casting hobby glitter over the fallen like the black feathers of a scavenging bird.

Where her visual sight is closed, a mental field is cast, using the points of every possible opponent and ally (sans her and Akechi) to draw a map of negative space. She won't have to worry about any mundane opponents here, leading her to assume (hopefully correctly) that her mapping is accurate.

".... They're thicker this way, but it'll be faster. Reinforcements will be on their way soon if we go the slow and safe route."

She is not the kind of navigator that could mitigate that; she's not even a proper navigator. "Cut through the cognitions around the back. They'll block the way. Swing up through the top, and down. We won't even need to shroud ourselves; they'll know we're here anyway. Let them find us--" HEE-HO HEE-HO HEE-HO

DID UMIE AVOID THAT ROUTE BECAUSE THE DEMONS WERE CUTE? SHE MIGHT'VE, OH WELL, AKECHI HAS IT COVERED
</poem>

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Bird's Eye View toward Security: Go Big Or Go Home! Automap!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== Security: Go Big Or Go Home - Round 5 =================================-
Goro Akechi Academics Failure
Second Coming Focus and Patra Fatigue: 4 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Umie Akabane Academics Success
Bird's Eye View Automap Fatigue: 1 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Guts Success
Overkill Specialty Fatigue: 3 Morale: 5
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Boss-0, Scary-2, Shuffle: Sword-0, Stupor-2, and
Sublime-1
Final Conditions: Scary-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 5/6 |=====| ===================================================-
-==== Loot So Far: ==========================================================-
Items: 1, Money: 2, Gear: 1
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

(|==================== Monad - Hana's Kingdom: Studio 4 ====================|)
-==== Round 6 - Challenge Level 1 ===========================================-
| Card: Bonus: Breaking the Prisoner |
| Approach Options: None |
| Conditions: Revelation - The best result. |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

You now have a key to the top floor elevator, where Producer Matsumoto can
be found. But that's not all you've found! As Rebel Cognitions cheer you on,
you spy some papers that have a lot of useful intelligence... Including a
snippet on the prisoner, Hana Fukami:

'We've almost broken the prisoner. The next strategy we're set to use is his
ex-fiance: Naho Enomoto. He was on track to be a productive member of
society marrying her... up until that brother of hers found out about his
habits and went after him. The scare that beating gave him could keep him on
the straight and narrow for good, now--if we use it right. Above all, we
can't allow him to start rebelling... can we use those damn pest Shadows and
Demons to scare him?'

You also find some nice photography equipment that would function in the
real world--or sell pretty nicely.

Final Loot: 1 Item, 2 boxes of Money, and 1 Pieces of Gear!
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Princess Umie sanctions this straightforward path, which is a good thing because it does not seem Kurou is inclined to stop once he's begun. Badb charts the course, and Kurou follows it, while the Prince recruits a royal hee-ho guard to even the odds.

Kurou endeavors to rapidly dwindle the number that has to be evened. If there is any flaw in the plan it's that it does take a concentrated effort to make sure Kurou does not eliminate the Jack Frosts in his fervor.

"Hee-ho," he says, flat, with the cheering Jack Frosts once the violence is complete, their foes lay fallen, and Kurou holds an unconscious Jack Frost against his shoulder as an ice pack.

In his other hand, he reviews the intelligence they've found as they ride the elevator upward. For a moment after he reads it, he is silent, struggling to understand how this relates to Hana Fukami exactly. She may be out, but Kurou's awareness rarely is.

"Oh," he finally realizes. "... I think... she will be more difficult than that to break, if she is from a world like this one..."

It may be the demonic version of it, but...

... TV production is truly daunting.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Akechi sees Kurou with a Jack Frost.

"Ah. A wise move. Believe it or not, I have a pact with a Jack Frost for a similar purpose."

Really!? Akechi has a Pact with a Jack Frost??? But-

Somehow, he pulls out a full Cooler.

And upon opening the lid, a Jack Frost sits up and waves at Kurou- before then handing him a whole Chilled Taiyaki. "Hee-Here you go!"

"It allows me to keep perishable food as healing items for much longer." He explains.

Of course, he has to find a new Jack Frost every time he needs to enter the Metaverse or a place like this but- details!

Akechi too reviews the intelligence as they go up, and hearing Kurou's remark...

"Yes, I do think they rather underestimate her. To someone like her..."

Pause.

"... there is little they could do that she has not already suffered."

It's a grave, cynical remark. But- it's also in his eyes, absolutely true.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie smiles as the two express their 'bonds' with Jack Frosts, but remains quiet, unable to feel comfortable saying anything.

Is... that what she had with Taro-kun? Then... ".... They suit you both," she says, quietly, with a nod.

'she will be more difficult than that to break, if she is from a world like this one...'

"I'm not sure if you have encountered any places like these, Ryouhara-kun, but this place is called a Kingdom. Think of it as... similar to the place that Shiryuu and I accidentally found a way into, if not outright created." She gestures to Kurou. "When I met Hana Fukami briefly, I felt something. The best way to describe it is 'bad luck', or 'a bad omen', probably due to my Persona's background. If we translate that into these surroundings... it may not be that I predicted the future, but was just able to see what was obvious to her, only in a cognitive way."

'There is little they could do that she has not already suffered.'

Umie reviews her brief interaction with Hana, who lacked her memories of the world outside. "... Prince-kun," she begins, touching her fingers against the paper, serving as evidence of this further crime. "You mentioned something about this place being a 'warning'. Maybe, like how Palaces are a showcase of an owner's delusional desire, this place is the opposite: a prison, showing a 'host''s surpression. They're isolated from the memories and things they hold important, which would normally allow them to weather those abuses. Sakurai-san was able to break from hers, but only with help. The same is happening here."

She lets her theory sit there, as she turns to the photography equipment.

"If either of you don't want to claim the photography equipment, I will. Rent's due." It's callous, but a way to make it clear that they won't be able to depend on her for access. "However, Ryouhara-kun, I think this camera... if you can get it to work, maybe you'd get something out of it." It may be putting Kurou on the spot here, but she doesn't want him to keep quiet just for her sake.
</poem>

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-09-06: A Mask For Two

2026-09-16T02:55:32Z

Tanyuu:

*'''Log: A Mask for Two'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Umie Akabane]], [[Shiryuu Ryouhara]]
*'''Where:''' The Prince, Yumezaki Ward, Sumaru City
*'''OOC Date:''' September 06, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' January 05, 2013
*'''Summary''': ''After the events of [[2026-09-05:_Mother_Joker|Mother Joker]], Umie borrows Shiryuu's hotel room in the prestigious Prince hotel to recover. Shiryuu comes, having already learned about what happened, as well as the consequences of Umie's use of the Mark's power. To him, his bond is not the sum of some cursed scribble on her wrist. It's a nice thing. However, as Shiryuu is finding out, Umie cannot have nice things.
----

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> That night, Shiryuu gets a text from Umie.
>> messed up
>> your fckin bosses nabbed smne j0kerifed
>> using prince room

Then, a few minutes later, as if Umie was thinking better of it:
>> srry

Umie didn't think Ruin'd follow her. That didn't seem to be his style, especially as she ducked outside that supernatural sphere of influence.

She got a few stares for how pale she looked as she rode the subway, and for the blood splatters on her white jacket, but putting on a pair of headphones seemed to mark her as invisible, as if she had deployed Badb's shroud.

Umie nearly dozed off the time she had arrived in Sumaru's Yumezaki Ward, having sunk into the stiffened fabric of her jacket as all the aches and pains of the past two days caught up with her. Passing into the subway and up onto the streets, she pulled her hood over her face to ward against the cold. squinting her eyes against a crisp hues of a cold clear sky. Nighttime was creeping in, and for once, all Umie can think of was how lucky it was for some animals that hibernated through the season, rather than deal with winter's long list of woes.

-----

The short blonde looked even more out of place coming into the lobby of the Prince, getting a few confused 'can I help you's from attendents until she flashed her keys, telling them that she needed a change of towels and some complementary bath salts. Oh, and a box of those chocolates, please, and thank you. Put it on the bill.

She's not feeling that kind to that bill, considering who is paying Shiryuu.

'Part of the establishment', however, seems to be an apt descriptor for her. Umie deserved each and every stab from the Groom.

Umie promised herself she'd save the self-pity for later, and now, she's going to roll in it like a dog on a carcass.

The first aid kit is rifled through, and used up; wounds are treated, but not bandaged, considering she was going to soak in the tub the second she could manage.

She didn't get that far, however; she collapsed on the bed in a dead sleep, wadded up in blankets until her curled shape resembled a croissant rather than a sleeping person.

She hates how she feels comforted by the fact that she can faintly smell him on the sheets.:

The comforting smell of rain fills her thoughts, overflowing her mind until it washed away the suspicious drag of little fingers on silk and tiny whispers, egging her on.
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
It's a bit of a misunderstanding, to think that very much money is changing hands, if even at all, between the Ryouhara clan and their sponsors. Their allegiances -- even at the moment -- could not be held with such objectified means, and their exchanges were of far more rare import, to say nothing of what cash Shiryuu had to his name personally. And so, the only thing Umie's unkindness actually vexes is his own royalties and residuals -- not that it makes his bed any softer, or cooler.

The young man himself was esconced in the dim upper corners of the room he was in, backlit only by the flahes of an arc welder in the lower corners where a frame wa being assembled, the harsh, keening blast of rotary hammers filling the air as they twist bolts as thick as thumbs into cantilever steel to appropriate torque.

It was in this harsh steel and iron environ that Shiryuu gets her text messages, suspended by the knees from the triangles of a truss support, hooking an elbow through a bent line of loose conduit, lifting it gently against one side of the strut bracket before sliding the other part of the hanger against it, absently reaching for the impact driver suspended on a tether from his belt... he's completely upside down.

*bzzrt brzzt -- voo*

The boy makes a face, fixing his legs, flexing thighs to cling more securely to the strut, nestling the conduit into the hook of an arm as he unzips a pocket in his work pants. Power tool temporarily forgotten, he's sliding his red phone out and flipping it open with a hand, the screen illuminating his clear safety visor.

>> eh wat
>> are you hurt
>> ??

A moment or two passes. More like a minute or two.

>> there soon

In truth, the worksite was a far distance away from the hotel, being selected for its fitness as opposed to its convenience, unlike the seedy dive across the street Shiryuu spent most of his breaks in. Comparably, his room at the Prince is far cleaner. And, somewhat scandalously, still had their scent across most of it.

He was, however, somewhat surprised to find out the scent of chocolate has returned. Less so then, when he steals in, to find his noble kizuna, the diminutive roguish blonde, curled up in bed in the blankets around a box of choco.

He can tell at a glance based on the open first aid kit that she's been attended to -- this would be a very different situation, otherwise. The bandage rolls haven't been used, so it shouldn't be too bad, right?

As always, the boy can't be heard until he slides into bed alongside her.

"...hey."

She'll feel his hand slipped between the space seoarating her skin from her bangs, resting his palm agaunst her forehead, checking for fever. Infection. Listening to her breathe. The onmitsu never actually gets to 'hello.'

"....where's it hurt?"
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Huh, they really did a number on this room, didn't they...?

(Umie would be lying if she didn't admit she spent a moment or two looking blearily looking at a spot or two around the room, realizing that was when-- oh, there was when... oh that's where that bruise is from, that was embarrasing but something Umie does not regret, but what about the cleaning bill? And...)

Anyway!

There is chocolate.

She didn't eat the entire box, having picked and chosen the ones she liked best (being the salted caramel or the dark chocolate ones, mostly), and then closed in, having fallen into her slumber.

There wasn't so much as a snort or shuffle as Shiryuu enters, the blonde nearly dead to the world in a chocolate-induced food coma. However, when Shiryuu sits near to her, the lump shifts, the croissant growing a few locks of blonde hair from one end. "nghhh...."

His palm feels heavenly against her forehead. She settles into that touch, sighly softly, her eyes opening briefly, then closing, as her own hand reaches up to politely tug on it to keep it from being taken away.

.....

There is no fever, but there is the smell of sweat and dried blood, of a previously sick stomach and clammy, stressed skin.

Where's it hurt? "S'fine," she says, not to appear selfless, but because she selfishly wants to lay in that moment of closeness, separated from the noise and clamour of what happened an hour or so's distance away

'Tell him where it hurts, Umie-chan. Let him make everything better for you. Don't you deserve it?' Umie would have preferred the version of Mai-chan that was a vicious little gremlin to that sweet, gentle tone that tries to worm into her thoughts.

As if to spurn that voice, she lets Shiryuu's hand go and slowly sits up, her hair still somehow collected into their usual, if flattened, buns.

"They took someone who was possessed by Joker. We tried to fight them off, but they were too strong."

She clears her throat, rubbing her eyes.

"What time is it?"

.....

Then, as if an afterthought, she mumbles, ".... I used it."
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Ryouhara carefully takes the chocolates away, setting the box on the nightstand, picking up a stray wrapper that made it to too far to the edge of the bed, crumpling it in a hand and sliding it into a pocket for later -- luckily, he did take at least a few minutes to change out of his work clothes, so he's wearing at least what passes for street clothes, albeit absent his ceremonial haori, itself replaced with a jacket he's not yet thought to hang up on the hook on the door.

He gives the faintest twitch -- when she takes hold of his hand, the sleeves of his jacket dusting over her knuckles as his touch hesitates against her for a second, before laying smooth, cool weight against a clammy but not entirely feverish forehead still. Warm, but...

"....I don't think so," Shiryuu decides simply, insisting.

Don't let her win, Ryouhara. Shiryuu sighs softly as his attempts are spurned. Instead, the young man's feet leave the bedside as he slides up into it, curling a thigh underneath himself as he leans behind her, and collects the first aid kit from the opposite end of the bed, pulling the tiny red case open and thumbing through its contents. A sound of annoyance is made, as he doesn't find what he's looking for.

"I guess there's liabilities," Shiryuu mulls, as he thumbs a little packet of antacid tablets from the pack, ripping the little paper package, emptying the two coated chewables into his hand. At least they're not the chalky kind you'd need to get water for.

Shiryuu is pointed on the matter, reaching out to take her hand in his.

His eyes are downcast, as he gives her the pair, deliberately unwrapped. "A few minutes past seven," the young man replies succinctly, without explaining. Is he guessing? Or...

"...but they were too strong," he repeats what she said, carefully. A power, used. But the Order was too strong. A slow, careful breath is taken, as Shiryuu slides closer, enough to pat the blanket where her thigh might be. He's careful -- he still isn't quite sure what all is injured, or broken. Eyes, both now back to their usual shades of brown -- one just barely so -- flick across Akabane's flattened, tousled hair.

"...it's to be expected, where that curse is involved."

She used 'it,' and Shiryuu doesn't need much clarification. Worse yet, it didn't change anything. 'It's to be expected,' he thinks, and it's true.

There are those who work with demons.
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'I don't think so.' "Mgh," Umie complains, unceremoniously.

Shiryuu will feel the breath of it land against his hand, like the complain was a live, warm thing.

"Suit yourself," she conceeds, then, her tone softer, the touch of her eyelashes against his skin.

She says that, but she says nothing for a time.

".... Sorry," she says. She definitely noticed that twitch in his hand, when she grabbed it. "For grabbing your hand like that." At the very least, Shiryuu's allowed to pull his hand back, as she sits up.

She's distracted, noticing how the brown of his eyes have settled to nearly the same shade.

They stand out, dark against the shade of silver in his hair, which has been tamed. Did he come from his job? He must have changed his clothing...

Did he skip out of his shift because of her texts? She just wanted to curl up in his bed, or soak in that luxurious tub that made the one in her apartment feel shallow and cramped in comparison.

On nights like these, she wonders when that flame of passion will fade, and he'll realize he sees nothing in her.

.... She's always waiting for the other shoe to drop, when something makes her feel happy...

He's ripping something open, depositing the pills in the palm of her hand. "... eh?" She blinks, red brown eyes looking down at them as they rest in her hand.

'A few minutes past seven.' ".... That fast, huh..." Or she's been out of it for long enough.

She glances back up at him, her gaze centering on him for a few seconds, before popping the pills in her mouth.

(well, if they were somehow swapped with poison pills, she would have had chocolate beforehand, she belatedly considers with some humor.)

'.... but they were too strong.' "Mmn." That's a noise that sounds like agreement, maybe. ".... I thought..."

"... I thought I could call a miracle. But I'm not you."
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
"Chew them with mindfulness," Shiryuu advises her, as Umie takes the antacids. That type of medicine is not itself based on digestion, but the interaction of saliva with the tablet chemistry. Luckily, it's not the chalky kind, but perhaps it'd be too much to hope that it's an acceptable fruit flavor. Even so, Shiryuu can dream.

Even so, chew them mindfully.

He continues, soothing idly through the blankets along her thigh as she gets lost to the details, his eye settling on his hand as if it were a third party to the matter, slow-going in his touch. For once, he's paying more attention to what she's saying than the restlessness that so often seems to consume him. He's not smiling, his expression worn and pensive.

His hair has been combed, at least sometime today, albeit the effect is somewhat both tempered and preserved by the fact that it's blatantly obvious he's been wearing a safety helmet for most of the day, what few tousles the grey-headed boy sports a vagary of the fact that he ran to the nearest station to get to the hotel and understand what happened. A rebellious sprig sticks up still, letting Umie know in no uncertain terms that it did not at all forget about the crime she did a few seconds ago, and no matter what breathy attack she shoots at him, the shihaisha will not abide being contained. Ah, but that's a story for another day.

Shiryuu's eyes peel from his hands, tracing a line across her hairline as she glances up to him.

'I thought I could call a miracle, but I'm not you.'

In this situation, it would be simple. 'Of course not, the invincible power of the Shirogarasu is not so easily wielded,' or 'the infinite mystery of ninkougakujutsu can only be wielded by the absolute strongest,' all thoughts that could be easy for him to say. But it's something to do with the tone in her voice that provokes such a pursed expression from the onmitsu.

A tiny, short, soft sigh slides along his lips. If her own was a roughsawn bullet, his is a brush of silk.

"Iih, ih ih ih," Shiryuu starts in, along the tail end of her words as if he'd heard it in advance and gave himself a warning from the future. He's shushing her, his hand lifting from her leg.

"Where's your real voice at," Shiryuu thinks, sliding hands around her shoulders. She can feel him patiently looking away from her eyes, shooting a glance just past her neckline and to one of her buns, as if reminded of what he was looking at just before.

She'll feel the way he quietly works to unfix her hair, as long as she sits still enough for it. "You should be telling me something like, 'a girl is her own miracle, so she doesn't need anybody else's,' or something like that. Your hair's all but given up on you, is why.."

If she sits still for that much, for the loosening of her buns to drop her hair across her back, Shiryuu will press his hand into her forehead again. It's a tacit acceptance of her earlier apology, though the boy simply doesn't respond to a lot of things in the moment. He does hold her in place, for a moment, a second. As long as she doesn't slip free.

"You got hurt," Shiryuu says, just as hushed. It's not a question, this time.
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'Chew them with mindfulness.'
'Don't be reckless, Umie Akabane.'
A innocent reminder to be careful over how she takes the antacids segues in Umie's mind into Joker's rebuke for Umie to not be reckless.

She looks up at Shiryuu's gaze, how he attempts to soothe her with his touch and pressure, careful and attentive.

Her heart rushes a beat, her cheeks briefly flush with a feverishness that isn't tied to sickness, but something else.

Yes, now that she's looking more closely, she *does* see where his hair's been forced into the mold of that helmet. She reaches up, drawing a fond line along that rebellious sprig of hair on his head, her lips twisting in a faint line of a smile.

Yet, it's the recklessness and restlessness that she reads in others that draws her to them, whether to indirectly soothe them, or incite it as the Badb demands. Which of those does she intend now for Shiryuu?

Well, for Shiryuu, it's something special, just for him--

'I _left_," she told the Groom.
'Did you?' said the Groom, right back.

And now, the person who represents her tie back to the Order asks Umie where her real voice is at, his hands brushing around her shoulders, working themselves on a wandering journey to fixate on her sad, sad off-center buns.

It can never be that simple, can it...

'Your hair's all but given up on you, is why..' A cackle irresponsibly spills out from Umie at the absurdity of what he wants her to say, and what that cocky little rebel that frustrates him seems to sound like, from his vantage point, translated through him.

"Is that what I sound like?" she asks, a wry note laced into the end of her words. "..."

She bows her head, letting the shihaisha have full authority over her hair, his worrying over it giving precious seconds for her to think, her pale blonde hair settling around her shoulders. Dark roots show, as always, aligning with the color of her eyebrows.

"... I saw my friend, from back then. Taro-kun." She stops a moment, as Shiryuu's hand presses against her forehead again. He'll feel the slight pressure, as her head leans slightly against his hand in a subtle nod of trust and affection.

"... a cute little guy, standing about..." Mona was slashed as well. How is Mona doing?

"... I didn't see him, after the attack started. Likely, he was..." She swallows. ".... But that is... what had to happen. They were demons."

The pause there was supposed to be definite, like there was nothing more to say.

But her traitorous mouth keeps going. "Everyone there had to deal with the mess I made. They were very confused, but they just... dealt with it Joker even made sure to stand guard with me for a second or two," Umie says, making a conscious decision to not mention what *from*. In fact, she won't even mention that it was the Groom who was there, though she imagines it'd be in the report.

"Maybe they were disappointed, but they just accepted me. So I did my best to be the person they needed."

And she keeps going.

".... I wonder, if Taro-kun felt I turned my back on him, when he was killed. What did he think? Demons... aren't humans. But they're not evil, strictly, anymore than a wild animal is evil for attacking a person."

She got hurt.

"I feel like I betrayed a part of myself."
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Ryouhara finds it very easy to fixate. At first, perhaps he think it's a matter of fluffing the buns out, tousling them between his index fingers, the way one winds a cat's cradle. Then he notes they're not just flat, they're misaligned. Tiny little tugs at her scalp delay the careful glance along her neckline, a pause, then a slight breath of air as he realizes her hair is a lost cause. The way he unties each bun in turn, running his fingertips through those roots of hers to evenly disseminate and orient the poor girl's undoings, his fingertips counting the fine bones in her neck, once in each turn.

He even tries to duck and look around her and, as she pokes at his head for some reason. His grey hair is unamused at her trepidation, and resists all efforts to be tickled.

She cackles at him, in that sharp, blurted way, earning her a flat glance through Shiryuu's right eye, the darker brown shade fixing on her face as his other eye closes reflexively, as if letting her see his whole, pure eye alone could sharpen the look he gives.

'Is that how I sound?'

"... yeah," Shiryuu replies, loquaciously.
He doesn't sound like he had to think about it for very long.

Once her hair is dealt with, it leaves the boy's wrist to hang off of her shoulder, as he moves the rest of her hair out of the way of her face, as if nothing was said at all. "Mnnn," he comments, listening.

Mona -- he doesn't know anything about, even if Umie were to mention the name. 'Taro-kun,' though, is a name that earns a pause, the onmitsu's curious fixation on the fine lines of her face and neck breaking as his eyes run a quick sweep from this way to that, pupils contracting, one more than the other. He recalls the name, clearly, from what she's told him before.

To think that he would come back at such a moment.

But.. "It's not for you," he thinks, "to pass judgment on yourself based on a fanciful dream."

He doesn't comment on her group. It's too easy to think of things as perfectly miserable in the moment. Shiryuu peers at her closely now -- and for once, he's actually paying attention. She may notice the way he examines her closely for bruising -- and exactly how much of his touch is also tangentially related to examining her for fractures. Checking her neck, her temples, her jawline.

In truth, it's probably the only way he can hear anything she's saying to him that close at all.

"...come on, you."

Ryouhara will slide off the bed in that moment, gathering up bits and sections of Umie Akabane's varying pieces scattered to and fro, to unceremoniously scoop what's left of her up -- carefully, decisively, with a hand slid beneath her knees and the other beneath her shoulders -- along with whatsoever may come along with, blankets, sheet and all, to carry her in some varying state of bundled over to the bathroom.

He is prepared to subdue her with the blankets if necessary.

"If it's really true, that maybe you lost your friend, you should tell me more about him," Shiryuu reasons, intently, unsteadily. "Maybe.. I don't know a lot about ... things like that," and it would be easy to assume he means demons here, "so, it's not very helpful, but.. let's start small."

A moment of thought passes.

"Maybe start with what he looked like...?"
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "... ei..." That's the sound of Umie relaxing, as Shiryuu fixates over trying to fix her hair. It's like hearing a hummingbird flop on your shoulder for a breather: precious, but also a little nerve-wracking as you wonder when it's going to start zipping off, right as you begin counting each little iridescent feather on its dumb proud little head.

Such is the power of an Umie Akabane.

That a soft sound like that could be followed by something so crass as that cackle is also the power of an Umie Akabane. "You could wait another second or two before you agree, you know," she says, with a small smirk, inspite of how much she tries to sound cross about it.

But that is the power of a Shiryuu Ryouhara...

And Umie has all the time and closeness to think about it, with him so close, enough to see the fine eyelashes on his eyes as they dart over her face, or the difference between his two pupils and how they are ever so slightly out of sync. The curve and swell of his lips, the lines of his jaw, the rise of his cheekbones. The spots on his neck that she found best to press her lips against.

There's bruising, and in the shift of bedsheets, he'll see the rusty remains of blood from wounds she hadn't bandaged yet, but were clearly not to the point of destablizing her condition. Considering she was going up against Miyu, her injuries were to be expected. Miyu is, after all, one driven by a desire...

And she, basing herself on a fanciful dream, as Shiryuu says. "Why would you call it fanciful?" she wonders, quietly, as she leaves the rebellious little hairs alone.

She doesn't shrink away from his examination, either, no matter how faulty his reasonings may be. It seems to soothe him as much as it soothes her, right now.

'....come on, you.' "... oof." She's briefly surprised when she's lifted up, all her pieces and all, looking up at him like a dazed falcon.

There's a threat hidden in his gentleness; this is not a suggestion, but a duty he's undertaking. "... where're you..." The bathroom, where she was originally going to go. "... I was going to go here," she says, like it was a protest.

She doesn't.

Especially when he asks her about Taro-kun.

'But he was a demon,' she wants to say. Did it matter to her back then? It didn't matter when she attached some distant fondness to Mona on their first meeting.

Taro-kun was special because he was her friend, just as Mona is special because he is a heroic little thief.

...

Would... Mona think it's weird, if she texted Joker asking if he was doing okay? It's not as if she knows much about Mona, and, when she thinks about the reasons why, it feels selfish.

... But wasn't her admitting about her Mark to people like Joker also selfish, in a way? In a good way, in admitting that they were things she *did* want to open up about, and that she felt some reason to trust each person, regardless of how little she truly knew them.

Taro-kun deserved to be known, by someone who wanted to know about him. Shiryuu doesn't know about things like that.

Maybe, neither did Umie, when it came down to it.

"I only got to summon him one time. He came to me, right away. I was smaller then, but him being around the same height as me meant he was perfect. I loved how fuzzy his head was, and how he chirped at me. His wings were so beautiful." She smiles. "... He'd nip me, if I wasn't careful. But, giving him a little bit of blood was great, when I knew it was something he appreciated. He'd get in trouble, and... I'd be blamed for it, because no one knew."
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
'I was going to go here...'
"Aa."

It's not necessarily that Umie's protests fall on deaf ears. To the contrary -- Shiryuu is focused enough on other things that he actually is paying rather a lot of attention to the content of Akabane's words, as opposed to their shape.

It's just that protests have not historically done much to move or sway the shihaisha of the crows, less so now, with his person in this way of hers.

"...I hope it wasn't for 'that' reason."

That much chocolate could have given her a stomachache, Shiryuu doesn't know. However, the onmitsu faces more of a logistical problem, entering the bathroom with a small train of blankets and sheets with him. Luckily, he is skilled enough to avoid knocking Akabane out on the doorframe -- he is very nimble.

Unfortunately, he didn't plan this through quite all the way..

Now faced with a person wrapped all the way up in blankets while minded to tart drawing a bath, Shiryuu makes a face, looking over the tub while listening to Akabane. He sniffs in thought, one blink, two -- the lowering incline of his head gives him a second to look at the roman faucet, while contemplating what she's said thus far.

"...don't let demons bite you, Akabane. I'll censure them for it if they do," he thinks, mouth set in vexation. Even as an innocent child free of sins, she was an incorrigible rogue, it sounds like. Hnrr.

"Only I'm allowed to bite you," he adds, absently, factually.

There is not an ounce of self-awareness or even flirtation in the way he says it, either.

Shiryuu ends up sliding a foot out of his house shoe to prop up high on the tub, lowering Akabane's figure to rest gently against his raised knee as he a w k w a r d l y leans over to reach the handle, starting to draw the bath. He tests the water -- and makes a face, waving his hand. Ah, it's so hot. He doesn't want to inadvertantly cook her. Grr. He fiddles with the knobs for a few seconds, batting Umie's blanket-tail out of the tub before she gets prematurely soggy.

"....you said he was a Mothman, right?" he thinks, changing the subject when he finally reaches the edge of his recollection, from months ago. A lot of the details were fuzzy. "He was ... rotund? Chunky?"

It's honestly a feat that he remembers that much. It's not like he was able to concentrate, that night. The feel of her hands in his took the lion's share of space in his memory. As well as the monstrous leg cramp he suffered later, after sitting in seiza with her until morning.

She said he'd get her in trouble, because no one knew he was there. That should annoy him even more, but..

"....he sounded fun."

Ostensibly, a healthy median has been reached with the pyroclastic flow that is the bath faucet. Shiryuu sighs softly. If Umie hasn't become a problem yet, he'll lower her to the edge of the tub, planting her rump-first there and making sure she's stable before carefully rolling her out of her blankets -- to help her out of a layer or two, with the jacket, at most, at least.

It'll start to get a little humid, and the shihaisha's attention falcons over her for a few moments -- it's probably the only time she enjoys his undivided attention, as he takes great care to keep her hair from getting in her mouth. (He seems weirdly concerned about it, honestly..)

"Ah... I'm going to get the bath explosives," Shiryuu tells her quietly. He's probably referring to the bath salts he saw on the table. Hopefully. He looks her in the eyes. "Do... you need help?"

Undressing, theoretically. She could be injured, after all -- it's a practical offer. But it's also sort of a loaded question, because it's actually spanning a range of other things as well. She could probably ask for help brushing her teeth right now and get his help.

(Don't ask for that. Shiryuu is brutally efficient at brushing teeth.)
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> '...I hope it wasn't for 'that' reason.' Shiryuu will likely feel the shift of Umie's head, swaddled as she is, though the way she squints her eyes at him will have to rely on sight or imagination to convey the full picture.

Her answer is direct. "No."

It's followed by a quiet, resigned explanation: "There's something that just feels... bad, when I'm done. Like, while you pull something out of the fridge and know it's rotten before you've smelled it or looked at it. That and, the... whole Taro-kun thing. All the different parts of it." She doesn't mean the different body parts of what could have been Taro-kun, either--

A demon would have done the same to any of them if seized with the right complusion, Umie reminds herself.

Normally, she'd protest just how impossible Shiryuu is making what should be a simple, if somewhat grandiose gesture: carting your girlfriend to the bathtub like she was a stinky family cat. (Okay, maybe a little more romantic than that, considering this is Shiryuu.) "You could just... let me..." But her words are muffled by a cover, giving her a chance to realize something important.

This may be Shiryuu's way of trying to 'solve' her 'problem', she thinks. She is, after all, a problem, afflicted with a problem that the shihaisha's knowledge and methods of 'miracles' cannot touch. She cannot be subdued through force (well, in a satisfactory way), her powers cannot be sealed with a ninkou, the demons would be more likely to try to kill Shiryuu on sight for being a Ryouhara alone than be shown the 'reason' of his will. Or let him censure them, for that matter.

All Shiryuu can do is draw a damn bath and listen to his girlfriend whine about the time she made friends with a talking moth that'd stand about waist-high in comparison to him, or people solved an incident he wasn't able to intervene and completely command.

There is only the Roman faucet, his girlfriend wrapped in blankets like a lazily-made burrito, the rifled-through first aid kit and the half-eaten box of chocolates back on the bed.

"... That's what demons do. They bite," Umie murmurs, half paying attention to the point of his words, half looking at how he's trying to problem-solve the issue of drawing a bath while balancing her on his raised knee.

'Only I'm allowed to bite you.' A snicker huffs by Shiryuu's ear. "My, my..." At least she doesn't go further with that, seeing the efforts he's putting into helping her.

Her eyelids lower, as she watches. It's these moments that really... make her fall for him, again and again.

"He had a cute fuzzy belly. You'd think, it'd be more like an actual moth's, but... it was funny, since his legs were spindly. I fell asleep once, with him laying on me. His wings were like a delicate blanket. Maybe it was because I was a kid at the time, but I never got the sense he was malicious. Just... no moral compass. I'm sure, if my summoning lasted longer, there would have been worse consequences."

A demon can understand the need for company, or warmth. Or play. Just not things like restraint, or morality. 'He sounded fun.' "He was." The corners of her lips turn upward. "Before I saw him last, I gave him a bow on his leg. He still had it on. That's how I knew." But when the battle went on, she couldn't see it.

A demon cannot be a human, or meet Umie the way Shiryuu does now, helping her out of her blood stained jacket. The bruises and cuts are more visible now-- nothing life-threatening like it was with Ruin, but they tell the story of how a girl could become desperate enough to use that forbidden ability.

Unlike a demon, Umie lets him, enjoying his attention, but also wanting to give him the satisfaction of a task.

Plus, it leads to the little absurdities like-- ".... Bath bombs," Umie corrects, with a smirk, drawing her fingers across his hair affectionately, landing a kiss against the top of his head.

'Do... you need help?' She laughs. "I don't know which answer you're hoping for. I can get undressed myself. But... after I get in the tub, I wouldn't mind you being there for company." She strokes his face. "I could really just use someone to ground me, right now."

She couldn't trust people with the whole weight of this; Shiryuu already knows it, and thus, there is nothing that needs to be explained.

There's no wall she has to listen through.
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
It is worth saying that Shiryuu is magnanimous. If you were to ask him, the reach of his severity and tyranny only extends as far as is just, the scalding heat of his silver and black breaking only those who do not commit themselves to order. If you were to ask him, he'd say as much.

But make no mistake, Shiryuu is not kind to those on the wrong side of the equation, and problems that face him are solved as they were with Alexander's sword. If demons thought to defy him, the amount of bloodshed would be colossal and flow without delay. They would either heed words or steel.

This is what he would argue.

'You could just, let me...' "Iiih," Shiryuu shushes her again, monosyllabically quashing the thought where it rose. "In your state, you might drown. Or get back into the choco. Or both," he tells her, candidly. "You need to rest your body. .... maybe toast."

With his knee propping her up in his grip between her shoulderblades, if gives him some space to muse openly about what to do as he draws the bath with questionable levels of success. He seems to vacillate between her hair getting in her eyes and her gastrointestinal health, and helping her out of her jacket does no favors in alleviating any of the small constellation of concerns that give him fits. "....!"

He's only compelled to relax when she touches him -- his everywhere expression sharpening to focus on her, the furrow of his brow shortly following as her touch chases across his hairline, stifling his complaints. "I don't care if you're made of the most delicious grape-flavored Long Bakeru Gummy," he grouses in half-hearted protest. "Anyone who bites you answers to me..."

He is gloomy but insistent on his point. As insistent as he can be, when she kisses him while he's busy gathering up the blankets from the ground. By the time he leans into her hand, he's promptly forgotten what he was talking about.

"...." The young man stops to think, clearing his throat politely as he roll up her jacket and thebedding into one tight roll in his hands, having let her free only as long as he's reasonably sure she won't faint or die. Luckily she's given him several other things to be concerned with. "....either way, it's poorly named," Shiryuu insists flatly, shortly before he's given cause for his eyebrows to shoot up into the shadows of his bangs with such abject violence that his sprig twitches.

"Wh-- not that I don't.." His gaze settles, before he turns away, calmly scandalized. "...it's not like it was on 'that day,'" Shiryuu settles on, insisting.

He doesn't specify how, as he promptly leaves the bathroom to gather supplies and put down the blankets and othersuch. It gives him time to reflect. Where before he was content to simply listen while she described the little demon, with the benefit of being able to focus on something other than her scent and trying to focus on one task after the next, Shiryuu can put it together.

"... so he's not a My Neighbor Dodoro ..." the onmitsu muses openly, folding the blankets and setting the jacket aside before picking up the box on the stand, giving it a disapproving look.

"I suppose it would be for the best," Shiryuu thinks over the box, before closing up the first aid and adding it to his stack. "If he were like a moth, it would have been a dust fire hazard."

A thought, Shiryuu looks down at the medician's cross on the front of the case.

"Maybe... later, when you're ... we should look for him."
As much as he'd argue otherwise, Shiryuu is a tyrant, it's not an incorrect assessment. But heartlessness is only a word. At least, if he thinks hard enough, perhaps that can be true.
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'In your state, you could drown. Or get back into the choco. Or both.' Umie makes a sour face. "I wonder how I've managed to survive all this time without you being there to keep me from drowning in the bathtub, or eating too much chocolate," she quips back sarcastically.

In revenge, she gets into character of the damsel in distress just a little more, floping her arms back as her back rests against his support, like she was a wan maiden, only helping herself out of that jacket whenever his attention is pulled back to the bathtub.

But eventually, as they both inevitably do when protesting and arguing with each other, she's touching him, and extending her own affections on him. After all, this is a man who is merciless towards anyone who defies his will, who rules over the Ryouhara clan as its leader and protector, even to the point of showing that blade against his own 'bond' when he suspected her. Yet, he draws her bath and fusses over her, seemingly trying to exert control in a way that Umie finds painfully similar to her own efforts.

The worlds they exist in are far apart in some ways, but the wavelengths they exist on sing the same melodies, drawing them into the same orbit.

"My, my," she repeats instead, breathing it against his forehead as he grumbles. "Clearly I'd be apple, not grape." Does it even come in apple? Probably a BS flavor, like sour apple, as an excuse to have something be colored light green instead of red.

She falls quiet as he leans into her hand, lips slightly parted, content to continue touching him, this boy so in love with this girl, this Shirogarasu.

That quiet moment of physical contact is broken with Shiryuu mentioning how 'bath bombs' are a terrible name. "No one would buy them if they were called something like 'bath fizzies'. Bath bombs sound more interesting."

It was a child's sentiment.

In contrast, there is nothing child-like in how Umie looks at Shiryuu now. "'That day'." Umie gives him an angled, mischievous smile. "I wonder... was it your first as well?"

That pause is scandalous. "... Your first Christmas date."

Flee, Shiryuu, while you still can.

After Shiryuu exits, the topic turns back to the late(?) Taro-kun. Umie snorts just before Shiryuu can hear the soft sound of her sweater hitting the ground, as well as the swish of her pants following suit.

Umie pauses with the last bit of her undressing, looking over her shoulder towards the sound of Shiryuu's voice. "... A dust fire hazard? ... Moth dust?" Is that a thing?

The minds of shinobi are mysterious.

Finishing her undressing, Umie gathers up a towel from a rack, and stops momentairely once again over Shiryuu's suggestion. He'd suggest that, because it's important to her.

"... You have a kind heart, Shiryuu." The word might come off as an insult, but it wouldn't be from Umie's tone of voice. "... I don't think he'd be around, by now. Probably a shorter window since I summoned quite a few. There was a Sati, a Jack Frost.... I think a Moh Shuuvuu."

She folds up the towel, doubling it over and placing it next to the head of the bathtub, before she steps into the tub proper.

The sound of water is the only thing that breaks the quiet, as she thoroughly soaks in.

"You can come back in, by the way. It's too deep to see anything."

She folds over her arms, resting her chin on them. ".... I want to... hear about your day."

If he comes in, he'll see the folded over towel, which Umie will nod towards, as a seat.

"Even if you think it's boring."
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Shiryuu is unmoved by Umie's quips. "You survived with a lot of indigestion, poor sleep and stomachaches," he guesses. Technically, Umie sleeps like a rock he's found, but he absolutely does not put impulse-control hangovers past her.

He's had more than a few back cramps with her name specifically on them..

Of course, it's in her nature to be troublesome, now she's talking blasphemies while draped over his knee like a melodramatic beach towel. "Iiih, Umie!" Shiryuu complains, scandalized. "--don't be candy!"

Of course apple is not a flavor! That he knows of.

It's hard for him to hold focus with her, given as he is to wonder along the lines of her words, how much his thought slows to a trickle at her touch. It's bothersome, in one way, that he can't quite...

And in other ways...

"It... ah.." With an ashen face, Shiryuu is only -minorly- relieved when it turns out the question she asks isn't ... the boy is given to turn briskly on his heel, walking lopsided out of the room. "Akabane!! Don't ask me things!" Really, he's full of demands. "I'm not some... slutty Christmas dater Korozen-type!"

She will note that one of his house shoes is still on the tile where he left it to help prop her up on his knee.

This, naturally, means disaster as he bursts into the main room again. There is a heavy, meaty -thock- and the rattle of wood. Dead silence. An ominous creak. The sound of shuffling movement, then the soft sound of blankets hitting the bed.

Shiryuu takes a *long* time to get the Epsom.

From the other room, she can hear him suck in a breath and hold it before he replies.

"....if it were interesting, it'd really explode. It's ... it's inert.. oh. I guess this isn't the explosive kind, just the seasoning kind." Maybe women do like to be cooked in soups.

"....and, my heart isn't.."
A pause, as his voice softens, letting the subject drop.
"...even so, I'll look."

By the time Shiryuu limps back in once invited, he's managed to kick off his other shoe somewhere outside of the bathroom, probably closer to the bed than not. He does peek just beyond the edge of the door before entering, making sure Umie isn't lying, though some part of him thinks it may almost be worse to peek first before entering. Doesn't feel right, he notes with a bitter frown.

In most circumstances, he'd barge in twice as hard. In this, he still pads in softly, unsteadily, carrying the little carton with him in a hand. He follows her indication with a dim expression, blinking fully once it sets in what she wants. "... Ah.."

He closes his eyes, as he tenderly comes to rest on the spare towel, sniffing once as he fiddles with the salt packaging. Hm. How's this open.

It's what she's asked, so... really, can he do less than to honor it?

"I ... was at the site today," he admits, finally intuiting the pour spout, a little metal sliding thing, that he actuates more than once with a finger, prodding at the box as he inspects the spout closely. "It's not really anything special... but, the building itself is done. The projector I ordered showed. But... the supervisor's got me running the conduit for the electrical."

Therein lies an important fact -- Shiryuu is ordering the facility equipment. Unbeknownst to the crew, he is both the owner of the club and the lowest ranking member of the contractors in the process of rebuilding it. Apparently, he gets stuck with bitchwork a lot as a direct result. He is also a terrible story teller.

"Hm. How much of this should we use," he thinks, starting to pour the box in. Hssss.. ssss... ssss... "If it's like ramen, I guess you have to use a lot.." ssssss. Sssssssss... He shakes the box a bit.

Umie should probably stop him.
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'You survived with a lot of indigestion, poor sleep and stomachaches.' "And again, I *survived*," Umie protests. However, Shiryuu's assumption would be correct, with one caveat: Umie slept like a rock because he was there, or because she fell asleep, her touch lingering over and remembering each and every callus on the palms of his hands, as well as the softer spots in between.

Which serves has a nice analogy for their relationship: full of calluses and soft spots, from two people trying to understand what it means to let another get so close. When Umie is allowed to forget about the NWO, she finds little interest in the possible secrets and intel she could derive from her relationship, just as she's not interested as serving as a double agent for the very place she's claimed to run away from.

She owes all of the people that wanted to believe her that much, as well as the ones she claims to hold in such high esteem. She is, after all, in love with the enemy, even if Shiryuu holds himself as separate as he can be.

And, since he is in love with her, there's no finer punishment, for someone like the shihaisha.

Exhibit A: Umie asking him, with that widening, teasing, open-mouthed grin, that double-edged sword of a question.

"That's what makes it so cute, when you give in~" She smiles, sweetly, then... freezes.

Why did she have to say it like that? It sounds like something Mai-chan would say...

She chases the thought out of her mind, focusing instead on Shiryuu. Like, how... Wait, why is he walking with a limp like that

*THUD*
"H-hey! Are you okay?" The blonde hesitates, looking at the door and wondering if she should peek out and check on him.

Creaakk. Shuffle. Thump.
He must be fine, if maybe nursing some kind of bruised muscle.
"Don't accidentally kill yourself," she says, her voice relaxing from that earlier concern. "Your family'd have my head on a platter." Bath explosives... the Ryouharas are an unconventional group, aren't they...

.....
By the time Shiryuu peeks in, Umie is, indeed, in the bath. "Hey," she says, with a softer tone. "You okay? That sounded like a pretty loud thump." Maybe Shiryuu should stay here, where he's not going to injure himself trying to impress her with how invincible he is.

She smiles as he talks about his day as not the shihaisha, but as the lowly EDM FNG. "Mmhm," she sounds, in that normal back and forth that happens. "Sounds difficult." But maybe not for Shiryuu, given his knack for engineering things.

"... I take it, they have no clue you actually worked there," she says. "Does the owner know?" A pause. "... Though, knowing you... Do you actually own the building yourself?" After all, why would he deal with another boss if he didn't have to?

sssssssss

".... Whoah whoah whoah. Are you trying to pickle me?" A few chipped red nailed fingers reach out to tip the spout of the box back, as she laughs. "It's not that kind of salt anyways. If you used this to salt ramen you'd have everyone running for the bathroom, and not to take a bath, either."

She also makes a face, as she realizes that, while it's not tablet salt, it's still salt. Eeehhh, it's fine, those cuts'll be disinfected now.
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> He would say she's being the unbearable kind of romantic, if that young man were at all privy to the meander of thoughts rolling through her head. He has a disciplined mind, not prone to the vagaries and fancies that most claim. Always dead ahead, he would think. As straight as an arrow shot from heaven. Anything else is just...

Shiryuu oft doesn't like where his mind goes, when he lets it roam so freely.

"I didn't give in," Shiryuu insists. "Everything that happened was tactical," the onmitsu informs the rambunctious Umie matter of factly, even if he remains mysterious as to what, precisely, tactical means. Especially in the .. several.. contexts that comprised their date. He doesn't seem to catch the eerie subtext that chills her so -- though it is to be expected, halfway out the door as he is.

Most of the rest can be chalked up to Shiryuu being a little nore nettled than usual from inadvertently trying and failing to kick a desk in half using exactly one toe.

Limping back in, Shiryuu waves a hand dismissively of the whole matter. "...enough silliness," he tells her. "My power surmounts both my family's and the furniture."

....

"..And your hip moves won't work so easy next time. I _am_ the strongest," he feels like he needs to remind her, severely, while not looking directly at her with her hair down and wet.

She wasn't even talking about that.
Shiryuu salts her hard, to make sure she doesn't get any ideas about winning. Right up until he's distracted by her long enough that she can *zoop* poke his spout shut.

For some reason, it vexes Shiryuu. You can tell by the cross-eyed way he looks at the box.

"...yeah..." Work was difficult, the boy replies absentmindedly while staring, but not in the fashion that indicates frustration with his lot. The box tilts.

There is a weird pacing to the way his thoughts catch up with the conversation, like he was making some decision somewhere in the back of his mind when it comes time to talk about who, precisely, is in charge. The owner... "He, ah... he died."

It's really all Shiryuu will say about it.

"Ieeh.." Shiryuu peers at the box, still displeased, but much quieter about it. "You girls and your strange wannabe explosive luxuries," he complains. "First you want to be candy, then you don't want to be ramen, then you're talking about making people run for the bathroom. Aaah, Umie.."

He says her name flatly.
Like she's being difficult about being seasoned.
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Tactical.

The word distracts Umie from her existential crisis (for now), as the natural urge to bend that word over and play with it drives the Badb in her instead.

"Ah..... examining the battlefield, scouting for weak points in my defense, pressing the advantage, being aggressive when you spy errors in my strategy, tactically retreating to force an advance on my part... it was all according to your plan.... I see..." It's too bad Shiryuu's currently nursing that stubbed toe. "Until finally, I had to concede to your wiles and recognize that victory could only be found in a tactical surrender!"

".... Which I then struck my secret attack on, subverting your expectations, and stealing my prize." Did any of this actually recount any line of events that happened that day? ....... most definitely not, Umie's making it all up.

Well, maybe the hip moves, but Umie's certainly not thinking about those until Shiryuu mentions them.

"It's not about who's the strongest~" she playfully chides. "A single strike can break through rock, if applied carefully!"

WHO IS THE ROCK HERE

*zoop*

"If you put too much in, it's going to make my skin all dried out," Umie points out. "Trust me, epsom salts were my go-to on some nights."

Though, most of the time, she was too tired, collapsing into bed.

Umie's gaze lowers over the water, seeing the angle of her face in the faint reflection.

".... 'She' would be there, sometimes, on those nights. It was like a treat. My parents were strict about sleepovers, so this was 'our' secret. Then, she'd disappear... and I'd miss her. Then. she'd be back, and I'd be so happy, just seeing her again."

Many nights, Umie slept, wishing that 'extra' hour actually counted toward something, rather than feeling like it drained her instead.

....

'He, ah... he died.'

Is it disappointing or reassuring, that Umie just accepts it? ".... Oh. Of... normal causes, or..."

It would make sense, if the Old Maid was there for the owner, and Shiryuu intercepted. But then, he'd have to know about it.

It feels like too much of a coincidence, otherwise, since he seemed to take it personally that someone was trying to kill her.

Not even Shiryuu's mention of water-based explosives and being picky about what food she chooses to be.

"... Did you... know the owner?" she asks, slipping into the water until her chin was submerged.
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
'Examining the battlefield, scouting for weak points in my defense.' "...yeah. Exactly." Shiryuu settles into Umie's energy with a soundless click, following her rhythm along effortlessly, his lived experience aligning perfectly with Umie's summary.

'Being aggressive when you spy errors in my strategy,' "That's right too." Shiryuu's forgotten all about his injury, completely sidetracked. Ugh, she's so cool to understand the tactical prowess of shinobi in this way. They should be more than dating, he resolves. They would make incredible battle partners, if it's this level of insight he can expect.

'It was all according to your plan, I see..' "A commendable insight, Akabane..!" Shirogarasu replies humbly. Now Shiryuu's activated and distracted by more than her hair, seasoning Umie with a shihaisha's ultimate authority and a Purple Dragon's vigor, which is likely the inciting factor that lures her into *zoop*ing his Epsom salt spout shut only a few moments later. If he weren't a dignified soul, he would be fistpumping right now at Umie's astute power of observation. Yeah. Lures her, obviously to concede to his wiles and surrender again. Wait, wiles?

First comes the fall.

'Which I then struck my secret attack on, subverting your expectations,' "Wait, attack? What are you even talking--" 'and stealing my prize.' "Wh, _what_ pri--" now the man's fully suspicious of what Umie is talking..

..are they still talking about...that means the prize was...
...!!
"_Umie!_" he repeats, scandalized with his face screwed into a sour expression.

Then his spout is *zoop*ed.

Shiryuu sits with that, for a long time.

"... not if the rock is the hardest and the strongest," he glumly points out after a whole forever, petty and unwilling to concede. He would salt her some more, but it sounds bad. Morosely, he doesn't want her skin to get dried up.

If you don't laugh, right..?

A child surrounded by demons and ghosts. It's a poor excuse for a childhood meant to be lived in the light of freedom and friendship, he reflects. The box of Epsom salts bears the weight of Shiryuu's idle, the cardboard drummed with alternating rows of fingers as he focuses on the marketing copy on the back without ever really reading it.

"So... it's why you sleep better, when it's two."

The insight is somewhat suspicious to have, but hardly unbelievable for the leader of an entire family of spies. The boy pats the box into an open palm, adding a subconscious rhythm to the moment, one meaningless movement at a time.

Isn't it really the same for him? He can only sit still, when..

The thought contours into something else, as she asks about the owner of Club Harai. An underground artist type, the one who died in the fire, with the building now under the ownership of and being reconstructed by a nameless administrative company, owned by a nameless investment trust.

Did he know him?

"... No," Shiryuu supposes.
"There was ... a gulf, between us. Always, I think."

Pursing his lips, the boy gives a small, suffering sigh. Her curiosities can be cruel, can't they..

"...It's harder now, but...it's fine." He's not defeated so easily.
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>
*zoop*

Umie's grin is pleased, the warm brown of her eyes shifting redwards as her eyes narrow into curved, glinting silts.

"The most valuable prize," she says, softly, her equally curving lips slightly open. "The sort of victory you can't have, unless you are willing to lose."

It's terrible, how gratified Umie seems with herself here.

"But a shinobi would know that's not true; otherwise, blind might would be all that mattered." She's doing it again.

This is a way someone may survive, when they are surrounded by demons, ghosts, and the burden of silence. You find humor in your failures to measure up, and in the absurdity of adults who remain ignorant of the supernatural.

It gets harder, when you find yourself an adult yourself, and realize that incompetence isn't always the reason for your own suffering.

Sometimes, it's the void.

... Which leads to the next thing that Shiryuu says, on the subject of still nights. "...." Umie, leaning her shoulders over the rim of the tub, the upper half of both arms dangling there, is quiet. The black stain encircling her right wrist feels wrong, like an extra eye or mouth where it shouldn't be, amongst the white flooring and wall.

"... Yes," she admits.

It makes sense, that Shiryuu would understand this. Wasn't that why he appeared, that one night?
Even the Shihaisha bleeds red.

".... When I was little, there were nights where I called for her, because I was scared. One time she did come." A strand of ash blonde hair weeps a still trickle of bathwater on the edge of the tub. "Maybe it would have been better if she hadn't, because it then made me think there was always a chance."

Shiryuu has his own wounds, as well. It is a crow's nature to be curious, and in that curiosity, there is a cruelty.

She moves closer; in truth, she had been slowly drifting over, with every shift and adjustment.

"Sounds like you two were closer than you thought."

This also makes sense; it was difficult enough for Shiryuu to admit he had feelings for her, and even, in Kurou's case, when he kept trying to hold onto some distance between him and Kurou.

Cruelly, she asks the same question he did.

"Could you tell me about him?"
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
He repeats it. "Umie...!"

Most of Shiryuu's disapproval is filtered into using Umie's first name, the onmitsu's pretense of imperious formality punctured with the varying colors he can paint onto her name in chastisement, telling the unrepentant rogue woman exactly what he thinks of her incessant chicanery.

He's really only used her first name in a few other situations.

Once, when he was afraid she was about to die. And once, when...

That time, Shiryuu didn't dip his fingers into the bath to splash the rambunctious scoundrel with her own bun water, turning his face away from her imperiously. Now that he knows what she's up to, he absolutely will not sign on to her shenanigans. Take some more of all of *that,* Akabane. Splash splash. Be sealed by your own ambitions to be ramen.

He's actually talented at splashing, being careful not to get any in her eyes until they're properly closed. It's one of his many skills.

What is more grave to handle is the way their words filter and entwine, quilting through the next moments with far more somber traipse. The young man's glance breaks from his bond's eyes as she softens to recount 'her,' and the contours of that terrible thought, hope.

He takes a long time to think about it, now-wet fingertips again taking to the box of salts as it suffers for being his proxy. Only the hilt of a sword truly calms his hands. Only the hilt, and...

The young man's gaze comes to rest on the tile, the shape of a tiny shame dipped in the ink dark.

'Could you tell me about him?' The question sits in a haze, like a woodchip lost in the censer.

Shiryuu shakes his head. He shouldn't, but.. "He was.. someone who was surrounded in bonds. The unimaginable rogue who effortlessly seized every heart, who stood at the edge of all things fearlessly. A howling dragon, a diving fox."

A rueful expression wry and focused paints his lips as he sets the box of salts down on the tile. ".... it's pointless. that person's curse was too great for him to survive. Not like others. Not like.."

He thinks again of her, and that fear she spoke of, letting his thoughts stray away from things he should not feel at all free to speak of. A glance stolen nimbly -- of the wet lines of her drape, his glance never quite meeting her eyes, as if unwilling to indulge even the smallest want in his heart to see 'her.'

He's trailed off. Instead, Shiryuu reaches out solemnly, to slide his fingers between hers and take his bond by the hand, without looking up.

But it's not her left hand he claims, but that abominable right, dark and whorled and blasphemed as something wrong, as something awful.

He chases away the ideas of a cold, dead thing with the press of his warmer lips to wet skin. Heat against the cooling evaporation and soothing gooseflesh before it can rise, with a slow, thoughtful kiss, lingering long on the black marks at her wristline, feeling her heart in her pulse against his lips.

A thought's space, and Shiryuu affirms with one more kiss. Higher along her Mark, returning to words that were just as cruel on the other side of that wall. He is still unafraid.

"... don't regret your hope," Shiryuu says, the smoother, imperious tenors of his voice trickling into a lower timbre this close to her skin. His and relaxes in hers, as he steals a glance of her face when he thinks she might be distracted.

Fast, quick, diffident, desperate for even a glimpse of her eyes, no matter how unreasonable a demand it might be to make of his love. The unyielding, colossal urge to kiss her again is carefully, tastefully pushed down as improper, out of line. Even this much..

"Don't," the shihaisha repeats. Don't regret your hope.
"No matter where it comes from."
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> There are some who use her first name, but they're few in number, despite Umie's nonconfirmist nature, when she's not under the mask of a slightly less nonconfirmist konbini clerk. Umie never objects when someone moves to her first name; she sees it as a personal decision, and when few are ever able to feel close enough, or have the kind of relationship where first names could be feasibly exchanged in the first place, it matters little how she wouldn't object. So, when someone like Shiryuu says her first name, Umie hears it, and understands it.

... Especially when it's paired with him expertly splashing her with a few well-calculated flicks of his fingers. "H-hey!" Umie cackles. "Don't splash my face!" He never did. He can be very thoughtful in how he applies his skills.

It's less so, when Shiryuu's applying them to his own care, as he speaks of that part of himself as a separate person, with Umie none-the-wiser, despite her knowing that he still dealt with the trauma of almost dying to the Old Maid.

Umie listens, wet eyelashes lowering as her eyes follow the edges of his hair and neck.

A rogue who's charismatic and fearless. Indomintable and fierce. "His curse? You mean... So... that's how you came across the Old Maid. He was looking for your boss." Could Shiryuu say she was wrong? "I thought you were going out of your way to challenge him because of me." Part of Umie wants to turn this into a prod, a way to tease him even if it really is better for her conscious that he met the Old Maid out of coincidence than him actively seeking the serial killer.

.... It led to the same result in the end, anyway. Shiryuu was never one to back down.

As far as 'her', well, Shiryuu, be careful what you wish for; in time, it might happen.

But on the other side of it, lies Umie. The Mark winds up from wrist to further up, somehow terminating before it reached her elbow. It was easier to forget in the winter months, but in the summer, the sleeves she wore to cover it stick out like a sore thumb. It's easier, in the end, to look like you're trying to make a fashion statement, rather than be seen as an 'other' for the tattoo. What kind of woman would get something so noticable if she, herself, wasn't 'tainted' in some way?

A woman like that... had no dignity.
A woman like that... was cursed.
A woman like that... could only bring someone ruin.

So when Umie felt Shiryuu's fingers slide into hers, her head angled to look towards him, giving him one of those slight smiles that seemed to happen when she relaxed her guard.

"...!" She was so unprepared for what happened next, wrestling with the instinct to pull that wrist back and protect her 'bond' from the corruption of her Mark....
..... as well as the sharp need to take his hand and kiss him deeply over that *nerve* to not care. This boy!!

How *dare* he make her squeak like that, when he let his lips leave, then press their warmth further up that same arm, still centered over that unspeakable Mark.

She can feel the vibrato of his voice through the skin and nerves that persist in their normalcy underneath that eldritch matte of black.
She loves it.

His look upwards nearly clips her in her impulse to press her lips into his hair. As a result, when he looks up, he sees her up close, her previous intent unmistakable even through the restraint she shows, now that their lips are dangerously close again.=

"I won't forget," she says, quietly. She's distracted by how inviting his lips look.

What value could be found in a desperate child's wish, anyways....

"..... It'd be a bad idea... if I kissed you right now," she also says.

... Yet, if he saw value in that hope, did it really hurt to believe him...?
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
'What is the truth' changes smoothly, as Shiryuu's eyes half-lid against her quiet understanding as she builds it brick by brick. There are a hundred dark truths and implications that the small prevaricated distortion salves over.

"... yeah," he agrees quietly, though to what he never specifies.
"It was... a stroke of bad luck, after all.."

Shinobi no mono. A person of endurance. It's a romantic notion, thinking about the nature of all those who dwell in the dark, and how the dark is not something to be feared, but cherished, along with all those in it. It's a pretty idea, when you think about it, and easily the one tied to the way Ryouhara entwines himself with her against his better judgment, the way his fingertips slide into her own so easily.

It is a pretty idea, thinking of it that way.

But...

Shiryuu holds onto her hand, feeling only the slightest resistance when he turns her just so, that he can feel the fine bones making up her wrist under his kiss. A tiny, sharp, bitter taste marks his lips, the remnant of those salts ignored further for the electric arc of his lines of attention, burning somewhee at the nape of his neck as he politely keeps from lavishing the poor girl from wrist to shoulder in some garish display.

She can feel the way he moves, the way he twitches just slightly when he discovers epsom salts do _not_ taste like ramen, the way he hides the barest, quickest ghost of a smile when she squeaks, the way he's disinclined to let the distance grow between them.

How much he wants to say to her.

His one hand is joined by his other, warming her hands between his own, her arm and its Mark against the press of his sweater without consideration. In that second, the sum of her isn't that obscene scrawl or its terrible charge.

'I won't forget,' she says.
"...I know," he says, quiet and warm, giving her that trust and agency.

That sum of her isn't that thing. It never was, to him.

"You're..." he trails off. She is just his person.

Shiryuu almost devastates Akabane's poor jaw when he steals that glance, when he looks up, and finds himself face to face with her. It's a feat of luck that he doesn't, and instead of being endangered, they are dangerously close. Eyes suddenly as wide as dinner plates lock into hers with an unabashed shock and confusion. For a second, a moment, she can count the wires in his left eye, the differences between two shades of brown where the ninkougakusha division failed to exactly account for his natural eye color, especially over time.

All he can think about is how close they are right now.

'It'd be a bad idea.. if I kissed you right now.'

"Aaa.." His voice catches in his throat, thick and hard with the potence of tension and the poisons of his own hyperawareness, of how soft she is against his chest and the warmth of her voice against his lips, so close to hers. "It wo..." he politely pauses, to make the smallest sound in the back of his throat, partway between clearing it and a hard swallow.

That small belief he could hear in her voice, the vow not to lose that inner wonder of hers, pulls on every string the shinobi has.

Every warning is telling him not to kiss her.

"... I know," the young man admits quietly, what feels like an eternity later. He doesn't even realize he's repeating himself.
And then, helplessly, he leans in.

The scintilla of space is closed, and Shiryuu kisses her instead, pressing into her mouth gently with an unfathomably muted, gentle sound, filtering his warmth against her, taking up space everywhere the warm water can't reach.

It's like falling.
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> To become one with the shadows, instead of hiding in them. To be the person she imagined she was back then.

The sort of person that lies behind the way she glances at Joker's theatrical entrances in their occasional talks, and how her attempts at acting like she wasn't impressed just fell off when she realized it was, in fact, okay to just *like* them.

It's okay to like things, and feel emotions.

'She' hasn't managed to take that away from you yet, has she, Umie? .... how hard has 'she' really tried to take something from you?

_Umie Akabane does not care_.

There is a splash, as Shiryuu might come dangerously close to falling into the tub with her...
.... as Umie greedily attempts to take what's hers.

....

There was, however, someone she forgot to ask.

*splat*
Something filmy and frigid has fallen over her head.

*plop*
And another, falling into the rapidly chilled water next to her body.

".....!"

The bathtub is full of long black strands of dry, brittle hair. They drape from the ceiling like heavy, entangled cobwebs, wetly stick to the mirror, fall from the vents in tangled, snarled knots.

The flooring and the walls are a lost cause, as strands leak out, spider-like, from gaps in the tilework, crowding the floor and door.

In the spaces between those hairs are lips like his, cold, blue, purple, and bruised, broken capillaries visible through the thin, slick skin. They try to form words, but only weep foamy water, their accusations only uttering in squelching noise.

Umie will know they are his, when she feels them whine against her.

It's an attempt to corrupt this memory, and tear it away from her. She knows it. Logically, there should be no hair here. She should smell his scent, and feel the warmth of his kisses. The water should sting from the epsom salts he so callously dumped in.

So why can't she understand which reality she should be in?

........ "....g.... b....."

Shiryuu won't see anything, or feel anything, except the way Umie's pulse speeds up, and her body runs cold.

Her nails are digging into Shiryuu's body as she chokes on air, and stiffens.
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
The moment turns.

Everything happens on a fulcrum. An unsteady balance. There is a symbolism in it, but Shiryuu's no longer paying attention, lost in the scent of her, and the feel of it. Slow, uneven even in all of his grace is that kiss, his eyes shuttered. He is much, much taller than she is, but he is kneeling; the level of the tub and the slow tilt inwards buttresses the unsteady balance they strike, with Ryouhara's arms twined around her own.

His heartbeat drums lightly, even from beyond those myriad layers he wears, rapping lightly at her skin from wherever his arm is not wound up with hers, from wherever his fingers are not steepled with hers. The dangerous, dauntless thing they do is rendered in sweet tempo -- the tiny sounds of kisses chased, of the way she pulls against him.

His mind is spun with fog; he wants this, and wants her, and so even a keen mind capable of casually interpreting the most complex of physics misses the tipping point amidst the ephemera. That critical point when his center slips beyond the fulcrum, and the well honed system breaks.

He misses entirely the last point at which he could have adjusted to right himself, as Akabane slowly pulls him into her, and the boy falls entirely into the water with her.

Water immediately floods the floor. "Uuu-!" Surely he meant to say something important. It hits like a hammer, the boiling rush of water into his clothes, and the immediate leaden sink of every fiber stuck to him. Weighed down with wool and steel, the onmitsu nigh immediately slams into the bottom on his ass, a leg halfway over the edge of the tub as he submerges in the abyss. A reflexive shock response to the difference between the ambient temperature and the heat of the water causes his breath to seize in his chest.

For a spun second, they are likely both underwater, and she can see the moment his eyes widen with shock.

And yet, it doesn't really matter.

There is a moment when want overrides good sense, and Ryouhara stubbornly eschews the latter for the former, unwilling to let her win by any stripe. A grip of four hands follows the break in his own, confusing immediately what is where and to whom it belongs.

But though he is stubborn, Ryouhara cannot -- at all -- ignore the sudden tightening of her grip in his, her fingernails lighting up his senses like the points of a constellation in his muscle as she grips him. First, she tries to take what's hers.

And then, she starts to drown in the air.

Her blood runs cold even in the steaming bath, turning her skin to ice under his hands.

It's like waking up from a dream to find out the house is on fire. Shiryuu, a soaked rat, breaks harshly from it to realize, by the sudden, violent cramp in his eye, that she's not breathing or resisting, and something is drastically, violently wrong.

"...Hey.." the words are said almost as a precursor. Did she breathe in a mouthful of water? Is she choking? "...Akabane!!"

The onmitsu, head swimming, reacts on a lower level than conscious thought, hooking a leg with hers. He rolls his hips -- moving to shift the poor girl entirely in the tub. He's darkly efficient about it, and it wouldn't be hard to connect the dots between 'rescue' and 'a killing,' when he moves to pin her shoulderblades against the side of the tub.

His fist finds the spot just above her navel under the water as he binds her in place with his legs. "Don't ..." He clamps over his fist with the palm of his opposite hand, reducing the practical distance between the two of them to 'zero.'

It's less than a second, and water is literally everywhere in the bathroom. It does not get appreciably better when Shiryuu fires off every ounce of energy from his shoulders and body weight up and into Umie's solar plexus, aiming to evacuate literally every ounce of whatever's in her lungs somewhere across his shoulder in one swift blow.

If the first doesn't work, then again.

He'll press his lips to hers, to replace poor air with good, forcing breath into lungs that's been stolen. Once-- twice. His eyes search hers quickly between, for signs of surprise, of anger -- of any kind of awareness. "--come on--"

She has a breath, maybe two to respond, as the boy assesses her. Absent it, the soaking wet crow will cradle her face in his hands, patting her cheek rapidly to induce something, anything, tilting her head back --

To finally slap her one more time, resoundingly, across the face.
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> This is the comedy of errors that two fools (the regular kind, not those of the Wild variety) can engage in, when left to their own devices. Lost in each other, lost to common sense, and loss(t) of balance, the two crows are soaked in the magnesium-rich bath water fully and completely.

Water and dark is the Badb's domain, tied by the connection to crones and the pointing of fingers, tying mighty leaders to a doom they may not have foreseen otherwise, rather than the flight of birds. That would be where Dark comes in, after all; a crow is an opportunist.

Cut to: Umie Akabane, underwater, recovering from shock and being an opportunist, just before common sense politely asks her to resurface for air.

You could forgive someone for mistaking the manner of how those nails start digging in to be possessive in nature, at first, until they begin to cling and curl into the curve of his muscles, like a shipwreck victim unwilling to let go of the only thing keeping them buoyant.

The imagery of water and fire, making necessary the mechanism of survival. How appropriate that a shinobi's grace and action make it hard to understand where those actions fall on the spectrum between life and death.

All it takes is the right twist and bend to spill from one to the other like overdrawn bath water.

"...!" Umie shakes as Shiryuu pins her efficiently against the side of the tub, water spilling and shifting everywhere.

Her eyes roll and her arms flail out, the fingers of her right hand grasping out and entangling in silver drenched hair, positioning the black of the Mark just out of reach of his left eye's field of vision, but paradoxically almost touching, right at the corner.

At this angle, if he could look, and if he even _would_, it'd be like that minute hand was grasping towards that miracle eye of his.

But only in that moment.

In the frenzy of shifting hot water, wet skin and clothing, who's to say if Shiryuu'd even appreciate it?

Someone will.

There are so many quips Umie could have said, when Shiryuu's fist and palm make a cordial knock on Umie's solar plexus to ask everything to move on out. Instead, there's just that pause, as Shiryuu gives her another sort of kiss, forcing air into her lungs.

Sputtering and coughing sounds answer Shiryuu's efforts, following that last smack across the face.

She's giving him that bewildered raptor look now: eyes wide, mouth open, unnervingly quiet except for the rush of air, in and out.

".... gh.... uh..."

The first action, that Shiryuu might appreciate as a sign of Umie being semi-aware, is her crossing her arm over her chest.

".... I'm... here. I... think."
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Everything is sound, for a few minutes.

Words don't even factor into the chaotic roll of time that transpires -- sweet, muted kisses and the slow, polite lick of water gives way into a muted sound of surprise, and the massive splash of water as a body hits it, the froth and pour as water overruns the bath edge and freely runs across the tiles. The sounds of choking, and the muted fragments of broken, worried words in tenor, nonsensical everywhere but in their context.

The slosh of water end to end as the basin shifts between two bodies, the gurgle of limbs diving from and into the water. The deep, harsh cavitation of thrusts, the spill of more water as the charge shifts. Tiny, fragmented begging. Then the rush of breath, and the sudden crack of wet flesh.

The gasping, panting, the sputter of a cough, and further, more broken fragments of thoughts struggling to surface, like a broken mirror thrown into the ocean. The voice is softer than before, softer still when set against a deeper tenor. But they too, are drowned out by the drizzle of water into the basin, loud and sharp and soprano against the right, throaty sounds of 'they' instead of 'he.'

Every part of him drips, soaking wet and full of water. He's struggling to catch up with her, his breath and heart cantering off from their low state of panic. The onmitsu recognizes the break, the sputter as he holds her face, the urgency bleeding out of his fingertips with the awkward, palming stroke of cold skin, trying to give warmth back as fast as it was taken, to assuage the sting of that slap as she coughs, as he assesses her again. Once, twice, three, even four times he does, her sputtering interleaved with the sound of his breath, with the thousand pinpoints of water draining from every point on his sopping wet clothes.

But despite how ridiculous he looks, with her hand buried in his hair, wet and tangled up entirely with her, Shiryuu is not going anywhere.

'I'm here... I think.'

".....good," is all he manages there, breathlessly, awkwardly, barely.

The rest of his relief is bore out by the press of his forehead to hers, matching eyes with her wide expression of shock. His hands melt from her face, arms looping around her shoulders to relax on the edge of the tub, half-curled around the shocked little bird as if afraid to break her by holding her as tightly as he'd like. Ah, he pays attention to exactly none of it -- least of all modesty.

Truthfully, Shiryuu may not notice like this, even on a good day.

It takes him a time to actually say anything, quiet in the sound of water spattering aginst the tile, of his grey hair's bangs spattering at her collarline, to soothe the amperage of his nerves, to check her pulse and breathing over again and again until he's satisfied.

He never will be, where she's concerned.

"It's ... you're okay," Shiryuu tells her, breathless still.
The sound of a handgun clicks somewhere in the back of his mind, weeks ago and from too far away not to cause him the slightest flinch.
"I'm here... I'll chase you wherever you go."
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> In a different set of circumstances, it could be the setup for hijinks. It wouldn't be the first time a bathroom has become flooded in this hotel, even with the expectation set of Japanese bathtubs needing to be able to spill, and the flooring being able to take that punishment.

Later, after she recovers, she'll tell Shiryuu what she saw with a lopsided, 'can you believe it' dry grin, like she was recounting the time she slipped and fell due to her own error, or slammed her knee accidentally into a very sensitive part of her boyfriend.

That would be one part of the truth, but not the part that mattered. They've seen their share of imagery, from real, physical things that they could fight and stand up against.

In some cases, there were horrors they caused, and may not yet answer for, if ever. Those too are truths, but not the ones that need to be spoken of right now.

For every ounce of consideration and caution, Umie sinks into him all the more tighter, her breathing slowing as she forces herself to remain conscious of her own heartbeat, attempting to keep it in time with Shiryuu's.

There is only the water, this room, the sound of dripping, and the thrum of a fan.

And him.
It relaxes that pearl of truth from her.

With hope, there is a price.

She admits that price into his wet clothes: the two words she continually avoids at all other times.
"... I'm scared."

To hope means to have something you can lose. To be hopeless is to have nothing you can have taken away from you.
To have something you can lose, means you can be scared.
If you're scared, you have to act like there's nothing you can have taken away from you.
If you act like there's nothing that can be taken from you, that means you lie.
That lie is the mask.

He doesn't have to promise her anything, right now.

He just needs to hold onto this little bit of her truth, so she can go on being the reckless, fearless Umie Akabane.
[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-09-06: A Mask For Two

2026-09-16T02:48:47Z

Tanyuu: Created page with "*'''Log: A Mask for Two''' *'''Cast:''' Umie Akabane, Shiryuu Ryouhara *'''Where:''' The Prince, Yumezaki Ward, Sumaru City *'''OOC Date:''' September 06, 2026 *'''IC Date:''' January 05, 2013 *'''Summary''': ''After the events of [2026-09-05:_Mother_Joker|Mother Joker], Umie borrows Shiryuu's hotel room in the prestigious Prince hotel to recover. Shiryuu comes, having already learned about what happened, as well as the consequences of Umie's use of the Mark's po..."

*'''Log: A Mask for Two'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Umie Akabane]], [[Shiryuu Ryouhara]]
*'''Where:''' The Prince, Yumezaki Ward, Sumaru City
*'''OOC Date:''' September 06, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' January 05, 2013
*'''Summary''': ''After the events of [2026-09-05:_Mother_Joker|Mother Joker], Umie borrows Shiryuu's hotel room in the prestigious Prince hotel to recover. Shiryuu comes, having already learned about what happened, as well as the consequences of Umie's use of the Mark's power. To him, his bond is not the sum of some cursed scribble on her wrist. It's a nice thing. However, as Shiryuu is finding out, Umie cannot have nice things.
----

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> That night, Shiryuu gets a text from Umie.
>> messed up
>> your fckin bosses nabbed smne j0kerifed
>> using prince room

Then, a few minutes later, as if Umie was thinking better of it:
>> srry

Umie didn't think Ruin'd follow her. That didn't seem to be his style, especially as she ducked outside that supernatural sphere of influence.

She got a few stares for how pale she looked as she rode the subway, and for the blood splatters on her white jacket, but putting on a pair of headphones seemed to mark her as invisible, as if she had deployed Badb's shroud.

Umie nearly dozed off the time she had arrived in Sumaru's Yumezaki Ward, having sunk into the stiffened fabric of her jacket as all the aches and pains of the past two days caught up with her. Passing into the subway and up onto the streets, she pulled her hood over her face to ward against the cold. squinting her eyes against a crisp hues of a cold clear sky. Nighttime was creeping in, and for once, all Umie can think of was how lucky it was for some animals that hibernated through the season, rather than deal with winter's long list of woes.

-----

The short blonde looked even more out of place coming into the lobby of the Prince, getting a few confused 'can I help you's from attendents until she flashed her keys, telling them that she needed a change of towels and some complementary bath salts. Oh, and a box of those chocolates, please, and thank you. Put it on the bill.

She's not feeling that kind to that bill, considering who is paying Shiryuu.

'Part of the establishment', however, seems to be an apt descriptor for her. Umie deserved each and every stab from the Groom.

Umie promised herself she'd save the self-pity for later, and now, she's going to roll in it like a dog on a carcass.

The first aid kit is rifled through, and used up; wounds are treated, but not bandaged, considering she was going to soak in the tub the second she could manage.

She didn't get that far, however; she collapsed on the bed in a dead sleep, wadded up in blankets until her curled shape resembled a croissant rather than a sleeping person.

She hates how she feels comforted by the fact that she can faintly smell him on the sheets.:

The comforting smell of rain fills her thoughts, overflowing her mind until it washed away the suspicious drag of little fingers on silk and tiny whispers, egging her on.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
It's a bit of a misunderstanding, to think that very much money is changing hands, if even at all, between the Ryouhara clan and their sponsors. Their allegiances -- even at the moment -- could not be held with such objectified means, and their exchanges were of far more rare import, to say nothing of what cash Shiryuu had to his name personally. And so, the only thing Umie's unkindness actually vexes is his own royalties and residuals -- not that it makes his bed any softer, or cooler.

The young man himself was esconced in the dim upper corners of the room he was in, backlit only by the flahes of an arc welder in the lower corners where a frame wa being assembled, the harsh, keening blast of rotary hammers filling the air as they twist bolts as thick as thumbs into cantilever steel to appropriate torque.

It was in this harsh steel and iron environ that Shiryuu gets her text messages, suspended by the knees from the triangles of a truss support, hooking an elbow through a bent line of loose conduit, lifting it gently against one side of the strut bracket before sliding the other part of the hanger against it, absently reaching for the impact driver suspended on a tether from his belt... he's completely upside down.

*bzzrt brzzt -- voo*

The boy makes a face, fixing his legs, flexing thighs to cling more securely to the strut, nestling the conduit into the hook of an arm as he unzips a pocket in his work pants. Power tool temporarily forgotten, he's sliding his red phone out and flipping it open with a hand, the screen illuminating his clear safety visor.

>> eh wat
>> are you hurt
>> ??

A moment or two passes. More like a minute or two.

>> there soon

In truth, the worksite was a far distance away from the hotel, being selected for its fitness as opposed to its convenience, unlike the seedy dive across the street Shiryuu spent most of his breaks in. Comparably, his room at the Prince is far cleaner. And, somewhat scandalously, still had their scent across most of it.

He was, however, somewhat surprised to find out the scent of chocolate has returned. Less so then, when he steals in, to find his noble kizuna, the diminutive roguish blonde, curled up in bed in the blankets around a box of choco.

He can tell at a glance based on the open first aid kit that she's been attended to -- this would be a very different situation, otherwise. The bandage rolls haven't been used, so it shouldn't be too bad, right?

As always, the boy can't be heard until he slides into bed alongside her.

"...hey."

She'll feel his hand slipped between the space seoarating her skin from her bangs, resting his palm agaunst her forehead, checking for fever. Infection. Listening to her breathe. The onmitsu never actually gets to 'hello.'

"....where's it hurt?"

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Huh, they really did a number on this room, didn't they...?

(Umie would be lying if she didn't admit she spent a moment or two looking blearily looking at a spot or two around the room, realizing that was when-- oh, there was when... oh that's where that bruise is from, that was embarrasing but something Umie does not regret, but what about the cleaning bill? And...)

Anyway!

There is chocolate.

She didn't eat the entire box, having picked and chosen the ones she liked best (being the salted caramel or the dark chocolate ones, mostly), and then closed in, having fallen into her slumber.

There wasn't so much as a snort or shuffle as Shiryuu enters, the blonde nearly dead to the world in a chocolate-induced food coma. However, when Shiryuu sits near to her, the lump shifts, the croissant growing a few locks of blonde hair from one end. "nghhh...."

His palm feels heavenly against her forehead. She settles into that touch, sighly softly, her eyes opening briefly, then closing, as her own hand reaches up to politely tug on it to keep it from being taken away.

.....

There is no fever, but there is the smell of sweat and dried blood, of a previously sick stomach and clammy, stressed skin.

Where's it hurt? "S'fine," she says, not to appear selfless, but because she selfishly wants to lay in that moment of closeness, separated from the noise and clamour of what happened an hour or so's distance away

'Tell him where it hurts, Umie-chan. Let him make everything better for you. Don't you deserve it?' Umie would have preferred the version of Mai-chan that was a vicious little gremlin to that sweet, gentle tone that tries to worm into her thoughts.

As if to spurn that voice, she lets Shiryuu's hand go and slowly sits up, her hair still somehow collected into their usual, if flattened, buns.

"They took someone who was possessed by Joker. We tried to fight them off, but they were too strong."

She clears her throat, rubbing her eyes.

"What time is it?"

.....

Then, as if an afterthought, she mumbles, ".... I used it."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Ryouhara carefully takes the chocolates away, setting the box on the nightstand, picking up a stray wrapper that made it to too far to the edge of the bed, crumpling it in a hand and sliding it into a pocket for later -- luckily, he did take at least a few minutes to change out of his work clothes, so he's wearing at least what passes for street clothes, albeit absent his ceremonial haori, itself replaced with a jacket he's not yet thought to hang up on the hook on the door.

He gives the faintest twitch -- when she takes hold of his hand, the sleeves of his jacket dusting over her knuckles as his touch hesitates against her for a second, before laying smooth, cool weight against a clammy but not entirely feverish forehead still. Warm, but...

"....I don't think so," Shiryuu decides simply, insisting.

Don't let her win, Ryouhara. Shiryuu sighs softly as his attempts are spurned. Instead, the young man's feet leave the bedside as he slides up into it, curling a thigh underneath himself as he leans behind her, and collects the first aid kit from the opposite end of the bed, pulling the tiny red case open and thumbing through its contents. A sound of annoyance is made, as he doesn't find what he's looking for.

"I guess there's liabilities," Shiryuu mulls, as he thumbs a little packet of antacid tablets from the pack, ripping the little paper package, emptying the two coated chewables into his hand. At least they're not the chalky kind you'd need to get water for.

Shiryuu is pointed on the matter, reaching out to take her hand in his.

His eyes are downcast, as he gives her the pair, deliberately unwrapped. "A few minutes past seven," the young man replies succinctly, without explaining. Is he guessing? Or...

"...but they were too strong," he repeats what she said, carefully. A power, used. But the Order was too strong. A slow, careful breath is taken, as Shiryuu slides closer, enough to pat the blanket where her thigh might be. He's careful -- he still isn't quite sure what all is injured, or broken. Eyes, both now back to their usual shades of brown -- one just barely so -- flick across Akabane's flattened, tousled hair.

"...it's to be expected, where that curse is involved."

She used 'it,' and Shiryuu doesn't need much clarification. Worse yet, it didn't change anything. 'It's to be expected,' he thinks, and it's true.

There are those who work with demons.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'I don't think so.' "Mgh," Umie complains, unceremoniously.

Shiryuu will feel the breath of it land against his hand, like the complain was a live, warm thing.

"Suit yourself," she conceeds, then, her tone softer, the touch of her eyelashes against his skin.

She says that, but she says nothing for a time.

".... Sorry," she says. She definitely noticed that twitch in his hand, when she grabbed it. "For grabbing your hand like that." At the very least, Shiryuu's allowed to pull his hand back, as she sits up.

She's distracted, noticing how the brown of his eyes have settled to nearly the same shade.

They stand out, dark against the shade of silver in his hair, which has been tamed. Did he come from his job? He must have changed his clothing...

Did he skip out of his shift because of her texts? She just wanted to curl up in his bed, or soak in that luxurious tub that made the one in her apartment feel shallow and cramped in comparison.

On nights like these, she wonders when that flame of passion will fade, and he'll realize he sees nothing in her.

.... She's always waiting for the other shoe to drop, when something makes her feel happy...

He's ripping something open, depositing the pills in the palm of her hand. "... eh?" She blinks, red brown eyes looking down at them as they rest in her hand.

'A few minutes past seven.' ".... That fast, huh..." Or she's been out of it for long enough.

She glances back up at him, her gaze centering on him for a few seconds, before popping the pills in her mouth.

(well, if they were somehow swapped with poison pills, she would have had chocolate beforehand, she belatedly considers with some humor.)

'.... but they were too strong.' "Mmn." That's a noise that sounds like agreement, maybe. ".... I thought..."

"... I thought I could call a miracle. But I'm not you."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
"Chew them with mindfulness," Shiryuu advises her, as Umie takes the antacids. That type of medicine is not itself based on digestion, but the interaction of saliva with the tablet chemistry. Luckily, it's not the chalky kind, but perhaps it'd be too much to hope that it's an acceptable fruit flavor. Even so, Shiryuu can dream.

Even so, chew them mindfully.

He continues, soothing idly through the blankets along her thigh as she gets lost to the details, his eye settling on his hand as if it were a third party to the matter, slow-going in his touch. For once, he's paying more attention to what she's saying than the restlessness that so often seems to consume him. He's not smiling, his expression worn and pensive.

His hair has been combed, at least sometime today, albeit the effect is somewhat both tempered and preserved by the fact that it's blatantly obvious he's been wearing a safety helmet for most of the day, what few tousles the grey-headed boy sports a vagary of the fact that he ran to the nearest station to get to the hotel and understand what happened. A rebellious sprig sticks up still, letting Umie know in no uncertain terms that it did not at all forget about the crime she did a few seconds ago, and no matter what breathy attack she shoots at him, the shihaisha will not abide being contained. Ah, but that's a story for another day.

Shiryuu's eyes peel from his hands, tracing a line across her hairline as she glances up to him.

'I thought I could call a miracle, but I'm not you.'

In this situation, it would be simple. 'Of course not, the invincible power of the Shirogarasu is not so easily wielded,' or 'the infinite mystery of ninkougakujutsu can only be wielded by the absolute strongest,' all thoughts that could be easy for him to say. But it's something to do with the tone in her voice that provokes such a pursed expression from the onmitsu.

A tiny, short, soft sigh slides along his lips. If her own was a roughsawn bullet, his is a brush of silk.

"Iih, ih ih ih," Shiryuu starts in, along the tail end of her words as if he'd heard it in advance and gave himself a warning from the future. He's shushing her, his hand lifting from her leg.

"Where's your real voice at," Shiryuu thinks, sliding hands around her shoulders. She can feel him patiently looking away from her eyes, shooting a glance just past her neckline and to one of her buns, as if reminded of what he was looking at just before.

She'll feel the way he quietly works to unfix her hair, as long as she sits still enough for it. "You should be telling me something like, 'a girl is her own miracle, so she doesn't need anybody else's,' or something like that. Your hair's all but given up on you, is why.."

If she sits still for that much, for the loosening of her buns to drop her hair across her back, Shiryuu will press his hand into her forehead again. It's a tacit acceptance of her earlier apology, though the boy simply doesn't respond to a lot of things in the moment. He does hold her in place, for a moment, a second. As long as she doesn't slip free.

"You got hurt," Shiryuu says, just as hushed. It's not a question, this time.
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'Chew them with mindfulness.'
'Don't be reckless, Umie Akabane.'
A innocent reminder to be careful over how she takes the antacids segues in Umie's mind into Joker's rebuke for Umie to not be reckless.

She looks up at Shiryuu's gaze, how he attempts to soothe her with his touch and pressure, careful and attentive.

Her heart rushes a beat, her cheeks briefly flush with a feverishness that isn't tied to sickness, but something else.

Yes, now that she's looking more closely, she *does* see where his hair's been forced into the mold of that helmet. She reaches up, drawing a fond line along that rebellious sprig of hair on his head, her lips twisting in a faint line of a smile.

Yet, it's the recklessness and restlessness that she reads in others that draws her to them, whether to indirectly soothe them, or incite it as the Badb demands. Which of those does she intend now for Shiryuu?

Well, for Shiryuu, it's something special, just for him--

'I _left_," she told the Groom.
'Did you?' said the Groom, right back.

And now, the person who represents her tie back to the Order asks Umie where her real voice is at, his hands brushing around her shoulders, working themselves on a wandering journey to fixate on her sad, sad off-center buns.

It can never be that simple, can it...

'Your hair's all but given up on you, is why..' A cackle irresponsibly spills out from Umie at the absurdity of what he wants her to say, and what that cocky little rebel that frustrates him seems to sound like, from his vantage point, translated through him.

"Is that what I sound like?" she asks, a wry note laced into the end of her words. "..."

She bows her head, letting the shihaisha have full authority over her hair, his worrying over it giving precious seconds for her to think, her pale blonde hair settling around her shoulders. Dark roots show, as always, aligning with the color of her eyebrows.

"... I saw my friend, from back then. Taro-kun." She stops a moment, as Shiryuu's hand presses against her forehead again. He'll feel the slight pressure, as her head leans slightly against his hand in a subtle nod of trust and affection.

"... a cute little guy, standing about..." Mona was slashed as well. How is Mona doing?

"... I didn't see him, after the attack started. Likely, he was..." She swallows. ".... But that is... what had to happen. They were demons."

The pause there was supposed to be definite, like there was nothing more to say.

But her traitorous mouth keeps going. "Everyone there had to deal with the mess I made. They were very confused, but they just... dealt with it Joker even made sure to stand guard with me for a second or two," Umie says, making a conscious decision to not mention what *from*. In fact, she won't even mention that it was the Groom who was there, though she imagines it'd be in the report.

"Maybe they were disappointed, but they just accepted me. So I did my best to be the person they needed."

And she keeps going.

".... I wonder, if Taro-kun felt I turned my back on him, when he was killed. What did he think? Demons... aren't humans. But they're not evil, strictly, anymore than a wild animal is evil for attacking a person."

She got hurt.

"I feel like I betrayed a part of myself."
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Ryouhara finds it very easy to fixate. At first, perhaps he think it's a matter of fluffing the buns out, tousling them between his index fingers, the way one winds a cat's cradle. Then he notes they're not just flat, they're misaligned. Tiny little tugs at her scalp delay the careful glance along her neckline, a pause, then a slight breath of air as he realizes her hair is a lost cause. The way he unties each bun in turn, running his fingertips through those roots of hers to evenly disseminate and orient the poor girl's undoings, his fingertips counting the fine bones in her neck, once in each turn.

He even tries to duck and look around her and, as she pokes at his head for some reason. His grey hair is unamused at her trepidation, and resists all efforts to be tickled.

She cackles at him, in that sharp, blurted way, earning her a flat glance through Shiryuu's right eye, the darker brown shade fixing on her face as his other eye closes reflexively, as if letting her see his whole, pure eye alone could sharpen the look he gives.

'Is that how I sound?'

"... yeah," Shiryuu replies, loquaciously.
He doesn't sound like he had to think about it for very long.

Once her hair is dealt with, it leaves the boy's wrist to hang off of her shoulder, as he moves the rest of her hair out of the way of her face, as if nothing was said at all. "Mnnn," he comments, listening.

Mona -- he doesn't know anything about, even if Umie were to mention the name. 'Taro-kun,' though, is a name that earns a pause, the onmitsu's curious fixation on the fine lines of her face and neck breaking as his eyes run a quick sweep from this way to that, pupils contracting, one more than the other. He recalls the name, clearly, from what she's told him before.

To think that he would come back at such a moment.

But.. "It's not for you," he thinks, "to pass judgment on yourself based on a fanciful dream."

He doesn't comment on her group. It's too easy to think of things as perfectly miserable in the moment. Shiryuu peers at her closely now -- and for once, he's actually paying attention. She may notice the way he examines her closely for bruising -- and exactly how much of his touch is also tangentially related to examining her for fractures. Checking her neck, her temples, her jawline.

In truth, it's probably the only way he can hear anything she's saying to him that close at all.

"...come on, you."

Ryouhara will slide off the bed in that moment, gathering up bits and sections of Umie Akabane's varying pieces scattered to and fro, to unceremoniously scoop what's left of her up -- carefully, decisively, with a hand slid beneath her knees and the other beneath her shoulders -- along with whatsoever may come along with, blankets, sheet and all, to carry her in some varying state of bundled over to the bathroom.

He is prepared to subdue her with the blankets if necessary.

"If it's really true, that maybe you lost your friend, you should tell me more about him," Shiryuu reasons, intently, unsteadily. "Maybe.. I don't know a lot about ... things like that," and it would be easy to assume he means demons here, "so, it's not very helpful, but.. let's start small."

A moment of thought passes.

"Maybe start with what he looked like...?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "... ei..." That's the sound of Umie relaxing, as Shiryuu fixates over trying to fix her hair. It's like hearing a hummingbird flop on your shoulder for a breather: precious, but also a little nerve-wracking as you wonder when it's going to start zipping off, right as you begin counting each little iridescent feather on its dumb proud little head.

Such is the power of an Umie Akabane.

That a soft sound like that could be followed by something so crass as that cackle is also the power of an Umie Akabane. "You could wait another second or two before you agree, you know," she says, with a small smirk, inspite of how much she tries to sound cross about it.

But that is the power of a Shiryuu Ryouhara...

And Umie has all the time and closeness to think about it, with him so close, enough to see the fine eyelashes on his eyes as they dart over her face, or the difference between his two pupils and how they are ever so slightly out of sync. The curve and swell of his lips, the lines of his jaw, the rise of his cheekbones. The spots on his neck that she found best to press her lips against.

There's bruising, and in the shift of bedsheets, he'll see the rusty remains of blood from wounds she hadn't bandaged yet, but were clearly not to the point of destablizing her condition. Considering she was going up against Miyu, her injuries were to be expected. Miyu is, after all, one driven by a desire...

And she, basing herself on a fanciful dream, as Shiryuu says. "Why would you call it fanciful?" she wonders, quietly, as she leaves the rebellious little hairs alone.

She doesn't shrink away from his examination, either, no matter how faulty his reasonings may be. It seems to soothe him as much as it soothes her, right now.

'....come on, you.' "... oof." She's briefly surprised when she's lifted up, all her pieces and all, looking up at him like a dazed falcon.

There's a threat hidden in his gentleness; this is not a suggestion, but a duty he's undertaking. "... where're you..." The bathroom, where she was originally going to go. "... I was going to go here," she says, like it was a protest.

She doesn't.

Especially when he asks her about Taro-kun.

'But he was a demon,' she wants to say. Did it matter to her back then? It didn't matter when she attached some distant fondness to Mona on their first meeting.

Taro-kun was special because he was her friend, just as Mona is special because he is a heroic little thief.

...

Would... Mona think it's weird, if she texted Joker asking if he was doing okay? It's not as if she knows much about Mona, and, when she thinks about the reasons why, it feels selfish.

... But wasn't her admitting about her Mark to people like Joker also selfish, in a way? In a good way, in admitting that they were things she *did* want to open up about, and that she felt some reason to trust each person, regardless of how little she truly knew them.

Taro-kun deserved to be known, by someone who wanted to know about him. Shiryuu doesn't know about things like that.

Maybe, neither did Umie, when it came down to it.

"I only got to summon him one time. He came to me, right away. I was smaller then, but him being around the same height as me meant he was perfect. I loved how fuzzy his head was, and how he chirped at me. His wings were so beautiful." She smiles. "... He'd nip me, if I wasn't careful. But, giving him a little bit of blood was great, when I knew it was something he appreciated. He'd get in trouble, and... I'd be blamed for it, because no one knew."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

'I was going to go here...'
"Aa."

It's not necessarily that Umie's protests fall on deaf ears. To the contrary -- Shiryuu is focused enough on other things that he actually is paying rather a lot of attention to the content of Akabane's words, as opposed to their shape.

It's just that protests have not historically done much to move or sway the shihaisha of the crows, less so now, with his person in this way of hers.

"...I hope it wasn't for 'that' reason."

That much chocolate could have given her a stomachache, Shiryuu doesn't know. However, the onmitsu faces more of a logistical problem, entering the bathroom with a small train of blankets and sheets with him. Luckily, he is skilled enough to avoid knocking Akabane out on the doorframe -- he is very nimble.

Unfortunately, he didn't plan this through quite all the way..

Now faced with a person wrapped all the way up in blankets while minded to tart drawing a bath, Shiryuu makes a face, looking over the tub while listening to Akabane. He sniffs in thought, one blink, two -- the lowering incline of his head gives him a second to look at the roman faucet, while contemplating what she's said thus far.

"...don't let demons bite you, Akabane. I'll censure them for it if they do," he thinks, mouth set in vexation. Even as an innocent child free of sins, she was an incorrigible rogue, it sounds like. Hnrr.

"Only I'm allowed to bite you," he adds, absently, factually.

There is not an ounce of self-awareness or even flirtation in the way he says it, either.

Shiryuu ends up sliding a foot out of his house shoe to prop up high on the tub, lowering Akabane's figure to rest gently against his raised knee as he a w k w a r d l y leans over to reach the handle, starting to draw the bath. He tests the water -- and makes a face, waving his hand. Ah, it's so hot. He doesn't want to inadvertantly cook her. Grr. He fiddles with the knobs for a few seconds, batting Umie's blanket-tail out of the tub before she gets prematurely soggy.

"....you said he was a Mothman, right?" he thinks, changing the subject when he finally reaches the edge of his recollection, from months ago. A lot of the details were fuzzy. "He was ... rotund? Chunky?"

It's honestly a feat that he remembers that much. It's not like he was able to concentrate, that night. The feel of her hands in his took the lion's share of space in his memory. As well as the monstrous leg cramp he suffered later, after sitting in seiza with her until morning.

She said he'd get her in trouble, because no one knew he was there. That should annoy him even more, but..

"....he sounded fun."

Ostensibly, a healthy median has been reached with the pyroclastic flow that is the bath faucet. Shiryuu sighs softly. If Umie hasn't become a problem yet, he'll lower her to the edge of the tub, planting her rump-first there and making sure she's stable before carefully rolling her out of her blankets -- to help her out of a layer or two, with the jacket, at most, at least.

It'll start to get a little humid, and the shihaisha's attention falcons over her for a few moments -- it's probably the only time she enjoys his undivided attention, as he takes great care to keep her hair from getting in her mouth. (He seems weirdly concerned about it, honestly..)

"Ah... I'm going to get the bath explosives," Shiryuu tells her quietly. He's probably referring to the bath salts he saw on the table. Hopefully. He looks her in the eyes. "Do... you need help?"

Undressing, theoretically. She could be injured, after all -- it's a practical offer. But it's also sort of a loaded question, because it's actually spanning a range of other things as well. She could probably ask for help brushing her teeth right now and get his help.

(Don't ask for that. Shiryuu is brutally efficient at brushing teeth.)

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> '...I hope it wasn't for 'that' reason.' Shiryuu will likely feel the shift of Umie's head, swaddled as she is, though the way she squints her eyes at him will have to rely on sight or imagination to convey the full picture.

Her answer is direct. "No."

It's followed by a quiet, resigned explanation: "There's something that just feels... bad, when I'm done. Like, while you pull something out of the fridge and know it's rotten before you've smelled it or looked at it. That and, the... whole Taro-kun thing. All the different parts of it." She doesn't mean the different body parts of what could have been Taro-kun, either--

A demon would have done the same to any of them if seized with the right complusion, Umie reminds herself.

Normally, she'd protest just how impossible Shiryuu is making what should be a simple, if somewhat grandiose gesture: carting your girlfriend to the bathtub like she was a stinky family cat. (Okay, maybe a little more romantic than that, considering this is Shiryuu.) "You could just... let me..." But her words are muffled by a cover, giving her a chance to realize something important.

This may be Shiryuu's way of trying to 'solve' her 'problem', she thinks. She is, after all, a problem, afflicted with a problem that the shihaisha's knowledge and methods of 'miracles' cannot touch. She cannot be subdued through force (well, in a satisfactory way), her powers cannot be sealed with a ninkou, the demons would be more likely to try to kill Shiryuu on sight for being a Ryouhara alone than be shown the 'reason' of his will. Or let him censure them, for that matter.

All Shiryuu can do is draw a damn bath and listen to his girlfriend whine about the time she made friends with a talking moth that'd stand about waist-high in comparison to him, or people solved an incident he wasn't able to intervene and completely command.

There is only the Roman faucet, his girlfriend wrapped in blankets like a lazily-made burrito, the rifled-through first aid kit and the half-eaten box of chocolates back on the bed.

"... That's what demons do. They bite," Umie murmurs, half paying attention to the point of his words, half looking at how he's trying to problem-solve the issue of drawing a bath while balancing her on his raised knee.

'Only I'm allowed to bite you.' A snicker huffs by Shiryuu's ear. "My, my..." At least she doesn't go further with that, seeing the efforts he's putting into helping her.

Her eyelids lower, as she watches. It's these moments that really... make her fall for him, again and again.

"He had a cute fuzzy belly. You'd think, it'd be more like an actual moth's, but... it was funny, since his legs were spindly. I fell asleep once, with him laying on me. His wings were like a delicate blanket. Maybe it was because I was a kid at the time, but I never got the sense he was malicious. Just... no moral compass. I'm sure, if my summoning lasted longer, there would have been worse consequences."

A demon can understand the need for company, or warmth. Or play. Just not things like restraint, or morality. 'He sounded fun.' "He was." The corners of her lips turn upward. "Before I saw him last, I gave him a bow on his leg. He still had it on. That's how I knew." But when the battle went on, she couldn't see it.

A demon cannot be a human, or meet Umie the way Shiryuu does now, helping her out of her blood stained jacket. The bruises and cuts are more visible now-- nothing life-threatening like it was with Ruin, but they tell the story of how a girl could become desperate enough to use that forbidden ability.

Unlike a demon, Umie lets him, enjoying his attention, but also wanting to give him the satisfaction of a task.

Plus, it leads to the little absurdities like-- ".... Bath bombs," Umie corrects, with a smirk, drawing her fingers across his hair affectionately, landing a kiss against the top of his head.

'Do... you need help?' She laughs. "I don't know which answer you're hoping for. I can get undressed myself. But... after I get in the tub, I wouldn't mind you being there for company." She strokes his face. "I could really just use someone to ground me, right now."

She couldn't trust people with the whole weight of this; Shiryuu already knows it, and thus, there is nothing that needs to be explained.

There's no wall she has to listen through.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

It is worth saying that Shiryuu is magnanimous. If you were to ask him, the reach of his severity and tyranny only extends as far as is just, the scalding heat of his silver and black breaking only those who do not commit themselves to order. If you were to ask him, he'd say as much.

But make no mistake, Shiryuu is not kind to those on the wrong side of the equation, and problems that face him are solved as they were with Alexander's sword. If demons thought to defy him, the amount of bloodshed would be colossal and flow without delay. They would either heed words or steel.

This is what he would argue.

'You could just, let me...' "Iiih," Shiryuu shushes her again, monosyllabically quashing the thought where it rose. "In your state, you might drown. Or get back into the choco. Or both," he tells her, candidly. "You need to rest your body. .... maybe toast."

With his knee propping her up in his grip between her shoulderblades, if gives him some space to muse openly about what to do as he draws the bath with questionable levels of success. He seems to vacillate between her hair getting in her eyes and her gastrointestinal health, and helping her out of her jacket does no favors in alleviating any of the small constellation of concerns that give him fits. "....!"

He's only compelled to relax when she touches him -- his everywhere expression sharpening to focus on her, the furrow of his brow shortly following as her touch chases across his hairline, stifling his complaints. "I don't care if you're made of the most delicious grape-flavored Long Bakeru Gummy," he grouses in half-hearted protest. "Anyone who bites you answers to me..."

He is gloomy but insistent on his point. As insistent as he can be, when she kisses him while he's busy gathering up the blankets from the ground. By the time he leans into her hand, he's promptly forgotten what he was talking about.

"...." The young man stops to think, clearing his throat politely as he roll up her jacket and thebedding into one tight roll in his hands, having let her free only as long as he's reasonably sure she won't faint or die. Luckily she's given him several other things to be concerned with. "....either way, it's poorly named," Shiryuu insists flatly, shortly before he's given cause for his eyebrows to shoot up into the shadows of his bangs with such abject violence that his sprig twitches.

"Wh-- not that I don't.." His gaze settles, before he turns away, calmly scandalized. "...it's not like it was on 'that day,'" Shiryuu settles on, insisting.

He doesn't specify how, as he promptly leaves the bathroom to gather supplies and put down the blankets and othersuch. It gives him time to reflect. Where before he was content to simply listen while she described the little demon, with the benefit of being able to focus on something other than her scent and trying to focus on one task after the next, Shiryuu can put it together.

"... so he's not a My Neighbor Dodoro ..." the onmitsu muses openly, folding the blankets and setting the jacket aside before picking up the box on the stand, giving it a disapproving look.

"I suppose it would be for the best," Shiryuu thinks over the box, before closing up the first aid and adding it to his stack. "If he were like a moth, it would have been a dust fire hazard."

A thought, Shiryuu looks down at the medician's cross on the front of the case.

"Maybe... later, when you're ... we should look for him."
As much as he'd argue otherwise, Shiryuu is a tyrant, it's not an incorrect assessment. But heartlessness is only a word. At least, if he thinks hard enough, perhaps that can be true.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'In your state, you could drown. Or get back into the choco. Or both.' Umie makes a sour face. "I wonder how I've managed to survive all this time without you being there to keep me from drowning in the bathtub, or eating too much chocolate," she quips back sarcastically.

In revenge, she gets into character of the damsel in distress just a little more, floping her arms back as her back rests against his support, like she was a wan maiden, only helping herself out of that jacket whenever his attention is pulled back to the bathtub.

But eventually, as they both inevitably do when protesting and arguing with each other, she's touching him, and extending her own affections on him. After all, this is a man who is merciless towards anyone who defies his will, who rules over the Ryouhara clan as its leader and protector, even to the point of showing that blade against his own 'bond' when he suspected her. Yet, he draws her bath and fusses over her, seemingly trying to exert control in a way that Umie finds painfully similar to her own efforts.

The worlds they exist in are far apart in some ways, but the wavelengths they exist on sing the same melodies, drawing them into the same orbit.

"My, my," she repeats instead, breathing it against his forehead as he grumbles. "Clearly I'd be apple, not grape." Does it even come in apple? Probably a BS flavor, like sour apple, as an excuse to have something be colored light green instead of red.

She falls quiet as he leans into her hand, lips slightly parted, content to continue touching him, this boy so in love with this girl, this Shirogarasu.

That quiet moment of physical contact is broken with Shiryuu mentioning how 'bath bombs' are a terrible name. "No one would buy them if they were called something like 'bath fizzies'. Bath bombs sound more interesting."

It was a child's sentiment.

In contrast, there is nothing child-like in how Umie looks at Shiryuu now. "'That day'." Umie gives him an angled, mischievous smile. "I wonder... was it your first as well?"

That pause is scandalous. "... Your first Christmas date."

Flee, Shiryuu, while you still can.

After Shiryuu exits, the topic turns back to the late(?) Taro-kun. Umie snorts just before Shiryuu can hear the soft sound of her sweater hitting the ground, as well as the swish of her pants following suit.

Umie pauses with the last bit of her undressing, looking over her shoulder towards the sound of Shiryuu's voice. "... A dust fire hazard? ... Moth dust?" Is that a thing?

The minds of shinobi are mysterious.

Finishing her undressing, Umie gathers up a towel from a rack, and stops momentairely once again over Shiryuu's suggestion. He'd suggest that, because it's important to her.

"... You have a kind heart, Shiryuu." The word might come off as an insult, but it wouldn't be from Umie's tone of voice. "... I don't think he'd be around, by now. Probably a shorter window since I summoned quite a few. There was a Sati, a Jack Frost.... I think a Moh Shuuvuu."

She folds up the towel, doubling it over and placing it next to the head of the bathtub, before she steps into the tub proper.

The sound of water is the only thing that breaks the quiet, as she thoroughly soaks in.

"You can come back in, by the way. It's too deep to see anything."

She folds over her arms, resting her chin on them. ".... I want to... hear about your day."

If he comes in, he'll see the folded over towel, which Umie will nod towards, as a seat.

"Even if you think it's boring."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

Shiryuu is unmoved by Umie's quips. "You survived with a lot of indigestion, poor sleep and stomachaches," he guesses. Technically, Umie sleeps like a rock he's found, but he absolutely does not put impulse-control hangovers past her.

He's had more than a few back cramps with her name specifically on them..

Of course, it's in her nature to be troublesome, now she's talking blasphemies while draped over his knee like a melodramatic beach towel. "Iiih, Umie!" Shiryuu complains, scandalized. "--don't be candy!"

Of course apple is not a flavor! That he knows of.

It's hard for him to hold focus with her, given as he is to wonder along the lines of her words, how much his thought slows to a trickle at her touch. It's bothersome, in one way, that he can't quite...

And in other ways...

"It... ah.." With an ashen face, Shiryuu is only -minorly- relieved when it turns out the question she asks isn't ... the boy is given to turn briskly on his heel, walking lopsided out of the room. "Akabane!! Don't ask me things!" Really, he's full of demands. "I'm not some... slutty Christmas dater Korozen-type!"

She will note that one of his house shoes is still on the tile where he left it to help prop her up on his knee.

This, naturally, means disaster as he bursts into the main room again. There is a heavy, meaty -thock- and the rattle of wood. Dead silence. An ominous creak. The sound of shuffling movement, then the soft sound of blankets hitting the bed.

Shiryuu takes a *long* time to get the Epsom.

From the other room, she can hear him suck in a breath and hold it before he replies.

"....if it were interesting, it'd really explode. It's ... it's inert.. oh. I guess this isn't the explosive kind, just the seasoning kind." Maybe women do like to be cooked in soups.

"....and, my heart isn't.."
A pause, as his voice softens, letting the subject drop.
"...even so, I'll look."

By the time Shiryuu limps back in once invited, he's managed to kick off his other shoe somewhere outside of the bathroom, probably closer to the bed than not. He does peek just beyond the edge of the door before entering, making sure Umie isn't lying, though some part of him thinks it may almost be worse to peek first before entering. Doesn't feel right, he notes with a bitter frown.

In most circumtances, he'd barge in twice as hard. In this, he still pads in softly, unsteadily, carrying the little carton with him in a hand. He follows her indication with a dim expression, blinking fully once it sets in what she wants. "... Ah.."

He closes his eyes, as he tenderly comes to rest on the spare towel, sniffing once as he fiddles with the salt packaging. Hm. How's this open.

It's what she's asked, so... really, can he do less than to honor it?

"I ... was at the site today," he admits, finally intuiting the pour spout, a little metal sliding thing, that he actuates more than once with a finger, prodding at the box as he inspects the spout closely. "It's not really anything special... but, the building itself is done. The projector I ordered showed. But... the supervisor's got me running the conduit for the electrical."

Therein lies an important fact -- Shiryuu is ordering the facility equipment. Unbeknownst to the crew, he is both the owner of the club and the lowest ranking member of the contractors in the process of rebuilding it. Apparently, he gets stuck with bitchwork a lot as a direct result. He is also a terrible story teller.

"Hm. How much of this should we use," he thinks, starting to pour the box in. Hssss.. ssss... ssss... "If it's like ramen, I guess you have to use a lot.." ssssss. Sssssssss... He shakes the box a bit.

Umie should probably stop him.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'You survived with a lot of indigestion, poor sleep and stomachaches.' "And again, I *survived*," Umie protests. However, Shiryuu's assumption would be correct, with one caveat: Umie slept like a rock because he was there, or because she fell asleep, her touch lingering over and remembering each and every callus on the palms of his hands, as well as the softer spots in between.

Which serves has a nice analogy for their relationship: full of calluses and soft spots, from two people trying to understand what it means to let another get so close. When Umie is allowed to forget about the NWO, she finds little interest in the possible secrets and intel she could derive from her relationship, just as she's not interested as serving as a double agent for the very place she's claimed to run away from.

She owes all of the people that wanted to believe her that much, as well as the ones she claims to hold in such high esteem. She is, after all, in love with the enemy, even if Shiryuu holds himself as separate as he can be.

And, since he is in love with her, there's no finer punishment, for someone like the shihaisha.

Exhibit A: Umie asking him, with that widening, teasing, open-mouthed grin, that double-edged sword of a question.

"That's what makes it so cute, when you give in~" She smiles, sweetly, then... freezes.

Why did she have to say it like that? It sounds like something Mai-chan would say...

She chases the thought out of her mind, focusing instead on Shiryuu. Like, how... Wait, why is he walking with a limp like that

*THUD*
"H-hey! Are you okay?" The blonde hesitates, looking at the door and wondering if she should peek out and check on him.

Creaakk. Shuffle. Thump.
He must be fine, if maybe nursing some kind of bruised muscle.
"Don't accidentally kill yourself," she says, her voice relaxing from that earlier concern. "Your family'd have my head on a platter." Bath explosives... the Ryouharas are an unconventional group, aren't they...

.....
By the time Shiryuu peeks in, Umie is, indeed, in the bath. "Hey," she says, with a softer tone. "You okay? That sounded like a pretty loud thump." Maybe Shiryuu should stay here, where he's not going to injure himself trying to impress her with how invincible he is.

She smiles as he talks about his day as not the shihaisha, but as the lowly EDM FNG. "Mmhm," she sounds, in that normal back and forth that happens. "Sounds difficult." But maybe not for Shiryuu, given his knack for engineering things.

"... I take it, they have no clue you actually worked there," she says. "Does the owner know?" A pause. "... Though, knowing you... Do you actually own the building yourself?" After all, why would he deal with another boss if he didn't have to?

sssssssss

".... Whoah whoah whoah. Are you trying to pickle me?" A few chipped red nailed fingers reach out to tip the spout of the box back, as she laughs. "It's not that kind of salt anyways. If you used this to salt ramen you'd have everyone running for the bathroom, and not to take a bath, either."

She also makes a face, as she realizes that, while it's not tablet salt, it's still salt. Eeehhh, it's fine, those cuts'll be disinfected now.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> He would say she's being the unbearable kind of romantic, if that young man were at all privy to the meander of thoughts rolling through her head. He has a disciplined mind, not prone to the vagaries and fancies that most claim. Always dead ahead, he would think. As straight as an arrow shot from heaven. Anything else is just...

Shiryuu oft doesn't like where his mind goes, when he lets it roam so freely.

"I didn't give in," Shiryuu insists. "Everything that happened was tactical," the onmitsu informs the rambunctious Umie matter of factly, even if he remains mysterious as to what, precisely, tactical means. Especially in the .. several.. contexts that comprised their date. He doesn't seem to catch the eerie subtext that chills her so -- though it is to be expected, halfway out the door as he is.

Most of the rest can be chalked up to Shiryuu being a little nore nettled than usual from inadvertently trying and failing to kick a desk in half using exactly one toe.

Limping back in, Shiryuu waves a hand dismissively of the whole matter. "...enough silliness," he tells her. "My power surmounts both my family's and the furniture."

....

"..And your hip moves won't work so easy next time. I _am_ the strongest," he feels like he needs to remind her, severely, while not looking directly at her with her hair down and wet.

She wasn't even talking about that.
Shiryuu salts her hard, to make sure she doesn't get any ideas about winning. Right up until he's distracted by her long enough that she can *zoop* poke his spout shut.

For some reason, it vexes Shiryuu. You can tell by the cross-eyed way he looks at the box.

"...yeah..." Work was difficult, the boy replies absentmindedly while staring, but not in the fashion that indicates frustration with his lot. The box tilts.

There is a weird pacing to the way his thoughts catch up with the conversation, like he was making some decision somewhere in the back of his mind when it comes time to talk about who, precisely, is in charge. The owner... "He, ah... he died."

It's really all Shiryuu will say about it.

"Ieeh.." Shiryuu peers at the box, still displeased, but much quieter about it. "You girls and your strange wannabe explosive luxuries," he complains. "First you want to be candy, then you don't want to be ramen, then you're talking about making people run for the bathroom. Aaah, Umie.."

He says her name flatly.
Like she's being difficult about being seasoned.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Tactical.

The word distracts Umie from her existential crisis (for now), as the natural urge to bend that word over and play with it drives the Badb in her instead.

"Ah..... examining the battlefield, scouting for weak points in my defense, pressing the advantage, being aggressive when you spy errors in my strategy, tactically retreating to force an advance on my part... it was all according to your plan.... I see..." It's too bad Shiryuu's currently nursing that stubbed toe. "Until finally, I had to concede to your wiles and recognize that victory could only be found in a tactical surrender!"

".... Which I then struck my secret attack on, subverting your expectations, and stealing my prize." Did any of this actually recount any line of events that happened that day? ....... most definitely not, Umie's making it all up.

Well, maybe the hip moves, but Umie's certainly not thinking about those until Shiryuu mentions them.

"It's not about who's the strongest~" she playfully chides. "A single strike can break through rock, if applied carefully!"

WHO IS THE ROCK HERE

*zoop*

"If you put too much in, it's going to make my skin all dried out," Umie points out. "Trust me, epsom salts were my go-to on some nights."

Though, most of the time, she was too tired, collapsing into bed.

Umie's gaze lowers over the water, seeing the angle of her face in the faint reflection.

".... 'She' would be there, sometimes, on those nights. It was like a treat. My parents were strict about sleepovers, so this was 'our' secret. Then, she'd disappear... and I'd miss her. Then. she'd be back, and I'd be so happy, just seeing her again."

Many nights, Umie slept, wishing that 'extra' hour actually counted toward something, rather than feeling like it drained her instead.

....

'He, ah... he died.'

Is it disappointing or reassuring, that Umie just accepts it? ".... Oh. Of... normal causes, or..."

It would make sense, if the Old Maid was there for the owner, and Shiryuu intercepted. But then, he'd have to know about it.

It feels like too much of a coincidence, otherwise, since he seemed to take it personally that someone was trying to kill her.

Not even Shiryuu's mention of water-based explosives and being picky about what food she chooses to be.

"... Did you... know the owner?" she asks, slipping into the water until her chin was submerged.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

'Examining the battlefield, scouting for weak points in my defense.' "...yeah. Exactly." Shiryuu settles into Umie's energy with a soundless click, following her rhythm along effortlessly, his lived experience aligning perfectly with Umie's summary.

'Being aggressive when you spy errors in my strategy,' "That's right too." Shiryuu's forgotten all about his injury, completely sidetracked. Ugh, she's so cool to understand the tactical prowess of shinobi in this way. They should be more than dating, he resolves. They would make incredible battle partners, if it's this level of insight he can expect.

'It was all according to your plan, I see..' "A commendable insight, Akabane..!" Shirogarasu replies humbly. Now Shiryuu's activated and distracted by more than her hair, seasoning Umie with a shihaisha's ultimate authority and a Purple Dragon's vigor, which is likely the inciting factor that lures her into *zoop*ing his Epsom salt spout shut only a few moments later. If he weren't a dignified soul, he would be fistpumping right now at Umie's astute power of observation. Yeah. Lures her, obviously to concede to his wiles and surrender again. Wait, wiles?

First comes the fall.

'Which I then struck my secret attack on, subverting your expectations,' "Wait, attack? What are you even talking--" 'and stealing my prize.' "Wh, _what_ pri--" now the man's fully suspicious of what Umie is talking..

..are they still talking about...that means the prize was...
...!!
"_Umie!_" he repeats, scandalized with his face screwed into a sour expression.

Then his spout is *zoop*ed.

Shiryuu sits with that, for a long time.

"... not if the rock is the hardest and the strongest," he glumly points out after a whole forever, petty and unwilling to concede. He would salt her some more, but it sounds bad. Morosely, he doesn't want her skin to get dried up.

If you don't laugh, right..?

A child surrounded by demons and ghosts. It's a poor excuse for a childhood meant to be lived in the light of freedom and friendship, he reflects. The box of Epsom salts bears the weight of Shiryuu's idle, the cardboard drummed with alternating rows of fingers as he focuses on the marketing copy on the back without ever really reading it.

"So... it's why you sleep better, when it's two."

The insight is somewhat suspicious to have, but hardly unbelievable for the leader of an entire family of spies. The boy pats the box into an open palm, adding a subconscious rhythm to the moment, one meaningless movement at a time.

Isn't it really the same for him? He can only sit still, when..

The thought contours into something else, as she asks about the owner of Club Harai. An underground artist type, the one who died in the fire, with the building now under the ownership of and being reconstructed by a nameless administrative company, owned by a nameless investment trust.

Did he know him?

"... No," Shiryuu supposes.
"There was ... a gulf, between us. Always, I think."

Pursing his lips, the boy gives a small, suffering sigh. Her curiosities can be cruel, can't they..

"...It's harder now, but...it's fine." He's not defeated so easily.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>
*zoop*

Umie's grin is pleased, the warm brown of her eyes shifting redwards as her eyes narrow into curved, glinting silts.

"The most valuable prize," she says, softly, her equally curving lips slightly open. "The sort of victory you can't have, unless you are willing to lose."

It's terrible, how gratified Umie seems with herself here.

"But a shinobi would know that's not true; otherwise, blind might would be all that mattered." She's doing it again.

This is a way someone may survive, when they are surrounded by demons, ghosts, and the burden of silence. You find humor in your failures to measure up, and in the absurdity of adults who remain ignorant of the supernatural.

It gets harder, when you find yourself an adult yourself, and realize that incompetence isn't always the reason for your own suffering.

Sometimes, it's the void.

... Which leads to the next thing that Shiryuu says, on the subject of still nights. "...." Umie, leaning her shoulders over the rim of the tub, the upper half of both arms dangling there, is quiet. The black stain encircling her right wrist feels wrong, like an extra eye or mouth where it shouldn't be, amongst the white flooring and wall.

"... Yes," she admits.

It makes sense, that Shiryuu would understand this. Wasn't that why he appeared, that one night?
Even the Shihaisha bleeds red.

".... When I was little, there were nights where I called for her, because I was scared. One time she did come." A strand of ash blonde hair weeps a still trickle of bathwater on the edge of the tub. "Maybe it would have been better if she hadn't, because it then made me think there was always a chance."

Shiryuu has his own wounds, as well. It is a crow's nature to be curious, and in that curiosity, there is a cruelty.

She moves closer; in truth, she had been slowly drifting over, with every shift and adjustment.

"Sounds like you two were closer than you thought."

This also makes sense; it was difficult enough for Shiryuu to admit he had feelings for her, and even, in Kurou's case, when he kept trying to hold onto some distance between him and Kurou.

Cruelly, she asks the same question he did.

"Could you tell me about him?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

He repeats it. "Umie...!"

Most of Shiryuu's disapproval is filtered into using Umie's first name, the onmitsu's pretense of imperious formality punctured with the varying colors he can paint onto her name in chastisement, telling the unrepentant rogue woman exactly what he thinks of her incessant chicanery.

He's really only used her first name in a few other situations.

Once, when he was afraid she was about to die. And once, when...

That time, Shiryuu didn't dip his fingers into the bath to splash the rambunctious scoundrel with her own bun water, turning his face away from her imperiously. Now that he knows what she's up to, he absolutely will not sign on to her shenanigans. Take some more of all of *that,* Akabane. Splash splash. Be sealed by your own ambitions to be ramen.

He's actually talented at splashing, being careful not to get any in her eyes until they're properly closed. It's one of his many skills.

What is more grave to handle is the way their words filter and entwine, quilting through the next moments with far more somber traipse. The young man's glance breaks from his bond's eyes as she softens to recount 'her,' and the contours of that terrible thought, hope.

He takes a long time to think about it, now-wet fingertips again taking to the box of salts as it suffers for being his proxy. Only the hilt of a sword truly calms his hands. Only the hilt, and...

The young man's gaze comes to rest on the tile, the shape of a tiny shame dipped in the ink dark.

'Could you tell me about him?' The question sits in a haze, like a woodchip lost in the censer.

Shiryuu shakes his head. He shouldn't, but.. "He was.. someone who was surrounded in bonds. The unimaginable rogue who effortlessly seized every heart, who stood at the edge of all things fearlessly. A howling dragon, a diving fox."

A rueful expression wry and focused paints his lips as he sets the box of salts down on the tile. ".... it's pointless. that person's curse was too great for him to survive. Not like others. Not like.."

He thinks again of her, and that fear she spoke of, letting his thoughts stray away from things he should not feel at all free to speak of. A glance stolen nimbly -- of the wet lines of her drape, his glance never quite meeting her eyes, as if unwilling to indulge even the smallest want in his heart to see 'her.'

He's trailed off. Instead, Shiryuu reaches out solemnly, to slide his fingers between hers and take his bond by the hand, without looking up.

But it's not her left hand he claims, but that abominable right, dark and whorled and blasphemed as something wrong, as something awful.

He chases away the ideas of a cold, dead thing with the press of his warmer lips to wet skin. Heat against the cooling evaporation and soothing gooseflesh before it can rise, with a slow, thoughtful kiss, lingering long on the black marks at her wristline, feeling her heart in her pulse against his lips.

A thought's space, and Shiryuu affirms with one more kiss. Higher along her Mark, returning to words that were just as cruel on the other side of that wall. He is still unafraid.

"... don't regret your hope," Shiryuu says, the smoother, imperious tenors of his voice trickling into a lower timbre this close to her skin. His and relaxes in hers, as he steals a glance of her face when he thinks she might be distracted.

Fast, quick, diffident, desperate for even a glimpse of her eyes, no matter how unreasonable a demand it might be to make of his love. The unyielding, colossal urge to kiss her again is carefully, tastefully pushed down as improper, out of line. Even this much..

"Don't," the shihaisha repeats. Don't regret your hope.
"No matter where it comes from."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> There are some who use her first name, but they're few in number, despite Umie's nonconfirmist nature, when she's not under the mask of a slightly less nonconfirmist konbini clerk. Umie never objects when someone moves to her first name; she sees it as a personal decision, and when few are ever able to feel close enough, or have the kind of relationship where first names could be feasibly exchanged in the first place, it matters little how she wouldn't object. So, when someone like Shiryuu says her first name, Umie hears it, and understands it.

... Especially when it's paired with him expertly splashing her with a few well-calculated flicks of his fingers. "H-hey!" Umie cackles. "Don't splash my face!" He never did. He can be very thoughtful in how he applies his skills.

It's less so, when Shiryuu's applying them to his own care, as he speaks of that part of himself as a separate person, with Umie none-the-wiser, despite her knowing that he still dealt with the trauma of almost dying to the Old Maid.

Umie listens, wet eyelashes lowering as her eyes follow the edges of his hair and neck.

A rogue who's charismatic and fearless. Indomintable and fierce. "His curse? You mean... So... that's how you came across the Old Maid. He was looking for your boss." Could Shiryuu say she was wrong? "I thought you were going out of your way to challenge him because of me." Part of Umie wants to turn this into a prod, a way to tease him even if it really is better for her conscious that he met the Old Maid out of coincidence than him actively seeking the serial killer.

.... It led to the same result in the end, anyway. Shiryuu was never one to back down.

As far as 'her', well, Shiryuu, be careful what you wish for; in time, it might happen.

But on the other side of it, lies Umie. The Mark winds up from wrist to further up, somehow terminating before it reached her elbow. It was easier to forget in the winter months, but in the summer, the sleeves she wore to cover it stick out like a sore thumb. It's easier, in the end, to look like you're trying to make a fashion statement, rather than be seen as an 'other' for the tattoo. What kind of woman would get something so noticable if she, herself, wasn't 'tainted' in some way?

A woman like that... had no dignity.
A woman like that... was cursed.
A woman like that... could only bring someone ruin.

So when Umie felt Shiryuu's fingers slide into hers, her head angled to look towards him, giving him one of those slight smiles that seemed to happen when she relaxed her guard.

"...!" She was so unprepared for what happened next, wrestling with the instinct to pull that wrist back and protect her 'bond' from the corruption of her Mark....
..... as well as the sharp need to take his hand and kiss him deeply over that *nerve* to not care. This boy!!

How *dare* he make her squeak like that, when he let his lips leave, then press their warmth further up that same arm, still centered over that unspeakable Mark.

She can feel the vibrato of his voice through the skin and nerves that persist in their normalcy underneath that eldritch matte of black.
She loves it.

His look upwards nearly clips her in her impulse to press her lips into his hair. As a result, when he looks up, he sees her up close, her previous intent unmistakable even through the restraint she shows, now that their lips are dangerously close again.=

"I won't forget," she says, quietly. She's distracted by how inviting his lips look.

What value could be found in a desperate child's wish, anyways....

"..... It'd be a bad idea... if I kissed you right now," she also says.

... Yet, if he saw value in that hope, did it really hurt to believe him...?
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

'What is the truth' changes smoothly, as Shiryuu's eyes half-lid against her quiet understanding as she builds it brick by brick. There are a hundred dark truths and implications that the small prevaricated distortion salves over.

"... yeah," he agrees quietly, though to what he never specifies.
"It was... a stroke of bad luck, after all.."

Shinobi no mono. A person of endurance. It's a romantic notion, thinking about the nature of all those who dwell in the dark, and how the dark is not something to be feared, but cherished, along with all those in it. It's a pretty idea, when you think about it, and easily the one tied to the way Ryouhara entwines himself with her against his better judgment, the way his fingertips slide into her own so easily.

It is a pretty idea, thinking of it that way.

But...

Shiryuu holds onto her hand, feeling only the slightest resistance when he turns her just so, that he can feel the fine bones making up her wrist under his kiss. A tiny, sharp, bitter taste marks his lips, the remnant of those salts ignored further for the electric arc of his lines of attention, burning somewhee at the nape of his neck as he politely keeps from lavishing the poor girl from wrist to shoulder in some garish display.

She can feel the way he moves, the way he twitches just slightly when he discovers epsom salts do _not_ taste like ramen, the way he hides the barest, quickest ghost of a smile when she squeaks, the way he's disinclined to let the distance grow between them.

How much he wants to say to her.

His one hand is joined by his other, warming her hands between his own, her arm and its Mark against the press of his sweater without consideration. In that second, the sum of her isn't that obscene scrawl or its terrible charge.

'I won't forget,' she says.
"...I know," he says, quiet and warm, giving her that trust and agency.

That sum of her isn't that thing. It never was, to him.

"You're..." he trails off. She is just his person.

Shiryuu almost devastates Akabane's poor jaw when he steals that glance, when he looks up, and finds himself face to face with her. It's a feat of luck that he doesn't, and instead of being endangered, they are dangerously close. Eyes suddenly as wide as dinner plates lock into hers with an unabashed shock and confusion. For a second, a moment, she can count the wires in his left eye, the differences between two shades of brown where the ninkougakusha division failed to exactly account for his natural eye color, especially over time.

All he can think about is how close they are right now.

'It'd be a bad idea.. if I kissed you right now.'

"Aaa.." His voice catches in his throat, thick and hard with the potence of tension and the poisons of his own hyperawareness, of how soft she is against his chest and the warmth of her voice against his lips, so close to hers. "It wo..." he politely pauses, to make the smallest sound in the back of his throat, partway between clearing it and a hard swallow.

That small belief he could hear in her voice, the vow not to lose that inner wonder of hers, pulls on every string the shinobi has.

Every warning is telling him not to kiss her.

"... I know," the young man admits quietly, what feels like an eternity later. He doesn't even realize he's repeating himself.
And then, helplessly, he leans in.

The scintilla of space is closed, and Shiryuu kisses her instead, pressing into her mouth gently with an unfathomably muted, gentle sound, filtering his warmth against her, taking up space everywhere the warm water can't reach.

It's like falling.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

The moment turns.

Everything happens on a fulcrum. An unsteady balance. There is a symbolism in it, but Shiryuu's no longer paying attention, lost in the scent of her, and the feel of it. Slow, uneven even in all of his grace is that kiss, his eyes shuttered. He is much, much taller than she is, but he is kneeling; the level of the tub and the slow tilt inwards buttresses the unsteady balance they strike, with Ryouhara's arms twined around her own.

His heartbeat drums lightly, even from beyond those myriad layers he wears, rapping lightly at her skin from wherever his arm is not wound up with hers, from wherever his fingers are not steepled with hers. The dangerous, dauntless thing they do is rendered in sweet tempo -- the tiny sounds of kisses chased, of the way she pulls against him.

His mind is spun with fog; he wants this, and wants her, and so even a keen mind capable of casually interpreting the most complex of physics misses the tipping point amidst the ephemera. That critical point when his center slips beyond the fulcrum, and the well honed system breaks.

He misses entirely the last point at which he could have adjusted to right himself, as Akabane slowly pulls him into her, and the boy falls entirely into the water with her.

Water immediately floods the floor. "Uuu-!" Surely he meant to say something important. It hits like a hammer, the boiling rush of water into his clothes, and the immediate leaden sink of every fiber stuck to him. Weighed down with wool and steel, the onmitsu nigh immediately slams into the bottom on his ass, a leg halfway over the edge of the tub as he submerges in the abyss. A reflexive shock response to the difference between the ambient temperature and the heat of the water causes his breath to seize in his chest.

For a spun second, they are likely both underwater, and she can see the moment his eyes widen with shock.

And yet, it doesn't really matter.

There is a moment when want overrides good sense, and Ryouhara stubbornly eschews the latter for the former, unwilling to let her win by any stripe. A grip of four hands follows the break in his own, confusing immediately what is where and to whom it belongs.

But though he is stubborn, Ryouhara cannot -- at all -- ignore the sudden tightening of her grip in his, her fingernails lighting up his senses like the points of a constellation in his muscle as she grips him. First, she tries to take what's hers.

And then, she starts to drown in the air.

Her blood runs cold even in the steaming bath, turning her skin to ice under his hands.

It's like waking up from a dream to find out the house is on fire. Shiryuu, a soaked rat, breaks harshly from it to realize, by the sudden, violent cramp in his eye, that she's not breathing or resisting, and something is drastically, violently wrong.

"...Hey.." the words are said almost as a precursor. Did she breathe in a mouthful of water? Is she choking? "...Akabane!!"

The onmitsu, head swimming, reacts on a lower level than conscious thought, hooking a leg with hers. He rolls his hips -- moving to shift the poor girl entirely in the tub. He's darkly efficient about it, and it wouldn't be hard to connect the dots between 'rescue' and 'a killing,' when he moves to pin her shoulderblades against the side of the tub.

His fist finds the spot just above her navel under the water as he binds her in place with his legs. "Don't ..." He clamps over his fist with the palm of his opposite hand, reducing the practical distance between the two of them to 'zero.'

It's less than a second, and water is literally everywhere in the bathroom. It does not get appreciably better when Shiryuu fires off every ounce of energy from his shoulders and body weight up and into Umie's solar plexus, aiming to evacuate literally every ounce of whatever's in her lungs somewhere across his shoulder in one swift blow.

If the first doesn't work, then again.

He'll press his lips to hers, to replace poor air with good, forcing breath into lungs that's been stolen. Once-- twice. His eyes search hers quickly between, for signs of surprise, of anger -- of any kind of awareness. "--come on--"

She has a breath, maybe two to respond, as the boy assesses her. Absent it, the soaking wet crow will cradle her face in his hands, patting her cheek rapidly to induce something, anything, tilting her head back --

To finally slap her one more time, resoundingly, across the face.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> This is the comedy of errors that two fools (the regular kind, not those of the Wild variety) can engage in, when left to their own devices. Lost in each other, lost to common sense, and loss(t) of balance, the two crows are soaked in the magnesium-rich bath water fully and completely.

Water and dark is the Badb's domain, tied by the connection to crones and the pointing of fingers, tying mighty leaders to a doom they may not have foreseen otherwise, rather than the flight of birds. That would be where Dark comes in, after all; a crow is an opportunist.

Cut to: Umie Akabane, underwater, recovering from shock and being an opportunist, just before common sense politely asks her to resurface for air.

You could forgive someone for mistaking the manner of how those nails start digging in to be possessive in nature, at first, until they begin to cling and curl into the curve of his muscles, like a shipwreck victim unwilling to let go of the only thing keeping them buoyant.

The imagery of water and fire, making necessary the mechanism of survival. How appropriate that a shinobi's grace and action make it hard to understand where those actions fall on the spectrum between life and death.

All it takes is the right twist and bend to spill from one to the other like overdrawn bath water.

"...!" Umie shakes as Shiryuu pins her efficiently against the side of the tub, water spilling and shifting everywhere.

Her eyes roll and her arms flail out, the fingers of her right hand grasping out and entangling in silver drenched hair, positioning the black of the Mark just out of reach of his left eye's field of vision, but paradoxically almost touching, right at the corner.

At this angle, if he could look, and if he even _would_, it'd be like that minute hand was grasping towards that miracle eye of his.

But only in that moment.

In the frenzy of shifting hot water, wet skin and clothing, who's to say if Shiryuu'd even appreciate it?

Someone will.

There are so many quips Umie could have said, when Shiryuu's fist and palm make a cordial knock on Umie's solar plexus to ask everything to move on out. Instead, there's just that pause, as Shiryuu gives her another sort of kiss, forcing air into her lungs.

Sputtering and coughing sounds answer Shiryuu's efforts, following that last smack across the face.

She's giving him that bewildered raptor look now: eyes wide, mouth open, unnervingly quiet except for the rush of air, in and out.

".... gh.... uh..."

The first action, that Shiryuu might appreciate as a sign of Umie being semi-aware, is her crossing her arm over her chest.

".... I'm... here. I... think."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

Everything is sound, for a few minutes.

Words don't even factor into the chaotic roll of time that transpires -- sweet, muted kisses and the slow, polite lick of water gives way into a muted sound of surprise, and the massive splash of water as a body hits it, the froth and pour as water overruns the bath edge and freely runs across the tiles. The sounds of choking, and the muted fragments of broken, worried words in tenor, nonsensical everywhere but in their context.

The slosh of water end to end as the basin shifts between two bodies, the gurgle of limbs diving from and into the water. The deep, harsh cavitation of thrusts, the spill of more water as the charge shifts. Tiny, fragmented begging. Then the rush of breath, and the sudden crack of wet flesh.

The gasping, panting, the sputter of a cough, and further, more broken fragments of thoughts struggling to surface, like a broken mirror thrown into the ocean. The voice is softer than before, softer still when set against a deeper tenor. But they too, are drowned out by the drizzle of water into the basin, loud and sharp and soprano against the right, throaty sounds of 'they' instead of 'he.'

Every part of him drips, soaking wet and full of water. He's struggling to catch up with her, his breath and heart cantering off from their low state of panic. The onmitsu recognizes the break, the sputter as he holds her face, the urgency bleeding out of his fingertips with the awkward, palming stroke of cold skin, trying to give warmth back as fast as it was taken, to assuage the sting of that slap as she coughs, as he assesses her again. Once, twice, three, even four times he does, her sputtering interleaved with the sound of his breath, with the thousand pinpoints of water draining from every point on his sopping wet clothes.

But despite how ridiculous he looks, with her hand buried in his hair, wet and tangled up entirely with her, Shiryuu is not going anywhere.

'I'm here... I think.'

".....good," is all he manages there, breathlessly, awkwardly, barely.

The rest of his relief is bore out by the press of his forehead to hers, matching eyes with her wide expression of shock. His hands melt from her face, arms looping around her shoulders to relax on the edge of the tub, half-curled around the shocked little bird as if afraid to break her by holding her as tightly as he'd like. Ah, he pays attention to exactly none of it -- least of all modesty.

Truthfully, Shiryuu may not notice like this, even on a good day.

It takes him a time to actually say anything, quiet in the sound of water spattering aginst the tile, of his grey hair's bangs spattering at her collarline, to soothe the amperage of his nerves, to check her pulse and breathing over again and again until he's satisfied.

He never will be, where she's concerned.

"It's ... you're okay," Shiryuu tells her, breathless still.
The sound of a handgun clicks somewhere in the back of his mind, weeks ago and from too far away not to cause him the slightest flinch.
"I'm here... I'll chase you wherever you go."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> In a different set of circumstances, it could be the setup for hijinks. It wouldn't be the first time a bathroom has become flooded in this hotel, even with the expectation set of Japanese bathtubs needing to be able to spill, and the flooring being able to take that punishment.

Later, after she recovers, she'll tell Shiryuu what she saw with a lopsided, 'can you believe it' dry grin, like she was recounting the time she slipped and fell due to her own error, or slammed her knee accidentally into a very sensitive part of her boyfriend.

That would be one part of the truth, but not the part that mattered. They've seen their share of imagery, from real, physical things that they could fight and stand up against.

In some cases, there were horrors they caused, and may not yet answer for, if ever. Those too are truths, but not the ones that need to be spoken of right now.

For every ounce of consideration and caution, Umie sinks into him all the more tighter, her breathing slowing as she forces herself to remain conscious of her own heartbeat, attempting to keep it in time with Shiryuu's.

There is only the water, this room, the sound of dripping, and the thrum of a fan.

And him.
It relaxes that pearl of truth from her.

With hope, there is a price.

She admits that price into his wet clothes: the two words she continually avoids at all other times.
"... I'm scared."

To hope means to have something you can lose. To be hopeless is to have nothing you can have taken away from you.
To have something you can lose, means you can be scared.
If you're scared, you have to act like there's nothing you can have taken away from you.
If you act like there's nothing that can be taken from you, that means you lie.
That lie is the mask.

He doesn't have to promise her anything, right now.

He just needs to hold onto this little bit of her truth, so she can go on being the reckless, fearless Umie Akabane.
[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-08-31: Celebratory Hot Pot

2026-09-02T04:46:23Z

Tanyuu: Created page with "*'''Log: Celebratory Hot Pot''' *'''Cast:''' Umie Akabane, Kurou Ryouhara, Ren Amamiya, Morgana(played by Ren) *'''Where:''' Umie's Apartment, Shibuya, Tokyo *'''OOC Date:''' August 31, 2026 *'''IC Date:''' January 02, 2013 *'''Summary''': ''Umie's roommate, Kurou, has achieved some high marks, which calls for a celebration. Since the same goes for Ren, it naturally means he's invited as well! After all, a hot pot is better the more people (and cats?) you..."

*'''Log: Celebratory Hot Pot'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Umie Akabane]], [[Kurou Ryouhara]], [[Ren Amamiya]], [[Morgana]](played by Ren)
*'''Where:''' Umie's Apartment, Shibuya, Tokyo
*'''OOC Date:''' August 31, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' January 02, 2013
*'''Summary''': ''Umie's roommate, Kurou, has achieved some high marks, which calls for a celebration. Since the same goes for Ren, it naturally means he's invited as well! After all, a hot pot is better the more people (and cats?) you have.''

----

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "--ow."

Umie has been in a good mood for the past week, in that sort of dazed, daydream-y sort of way that is prone of all sorts of accidents.

Exhibit A: the ruby red bead of blood on her finger, springing up from where her knife, mercilessly kept sharp by one ninja or another, poked her while she was prepping Enoki mushrooms.

Realizing that Ren is coming over, Umie's had time to clean up and hide away any evidence of masks, leaving her craft corner as a simple table in the corner, covered with newspaper and pieces of origami paper. Sure, Ren's probably made enough visits here to see the masks drying from the wire hangers above the table, but either way, the mess had to be cut down.

Thankfully, the rest of the apartment has been well maintained. While it felt tight in the dog days of summer, it's graciously been upgraded to 'pleasantly cozy' on days like this.

The TV on the wall bas been set to mute. Snow is collecting outside, making cheeks and fingers red from cold and city streets grey with slush.

It's the perfect day for celebratory hot pot, in other words.

The electric hotpot on the table, a long cord winding to a socket that Umie wished was just a little closer. One may be forgiven if they notice the slight dent on the side; it's squarely the reason Umie was able to get it for a price that was a little less painful for her budget.

For Umie, it's a pale imitation of the sadly ignored electric hot pot at her childhood home in Sumaru City, but for a meal for three, it's perfect.

Washing her hands and popping a tight bandaid over the cut, she wiggles it in the air. "Haven't done that in a while..." Two bags are set on the counter, filled with other goodies. Umie was going to go with pork, but after coming across a package of thinly sliced beef with the price cut, she sprang for that instead.

Teenagers need protein, after all. It's entirely that, and not that she wanted beef. Yes.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Kurou does his best to assist in keeping the space neat and orderly, but he was in the other room to fetch something for Ren's arrival the moment Umie utters her ''ow''.

''Was''.

Suddenly, he's there, without sound, full alert, but a bead of blood is hardly enough for him to see by the time Umie's washing and bandaging herself. "... I will handle dishes tonight, Akabane-san." A bandage should be kept dry. And even if it is a celebration, it is fair, isn't it...?

But even such a seriously given offer (or, more accurately, assertion) does not carry its gravity when Kurou sees the hot pot situation in full. His eyes glimmer with keen interest as he fidgets ever so slightly at the sleeves of his dark pullover hoodie. His hair streak is faintly red -- more pinkish from fading -- from his holiday change. The dye he used for the occasion was not engineered to last, evidently.

"I do not remember having hotpot before."

It's a subtle thing, the way Kurou describes some of his experiences: not always in definitive 'have nots' but less certain 'can't remembers'.

His gaze lands to the beef, and his pupils are a little bigger.

"I apologize if I am... unskilled in his execution, but I will endeavor to contribute to a balanced broth."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
The snow is really beautiful. Ren was happy to see it on Christmas Eve, and they're happy to see it today too. They're also happy to get invited to hot pot at Umie's, because this is something they ''can'' bring Morgana to thanks to Umie giving her permission, and after what happened with the sushi from the Arisato twins' birthday party, well... Morgana really needs something to cheer him up. They're worried about him lately.

(Umie had asked Ren what they wanted for dinner to celebrate their grades, and sushi was definitely out of the question with her budget. Hot pot was great after The Phantoms' victory over Madarame's Palace, so this is a good chance to have it in the proper season.)

So it's shortly after Umie cuts her finger that there's a knock at the door. Ren's there, dressed in their dark winter coat with a blue scarf at their throat and gloved hands in their pockets. They smile at whoever answers the door and nods their greeting, then slips off their shoes at the foyer and sets down their shoulder bag for Morgana to hop out of.

"This is my friend, Morgana," Ren says, poker-faced.

Morgana looks up at Kurou and Umie, eyes vividly blue, ears flicking. He will accept pets, but of course says nothing. Cats can't speak, silly.

Ren glances at the bandaid on Umie's finger and opts not to comment on it. It's easy enough to imagine where and how she got that, especially since it looks fresh. Instead, they nod to Kurou and their reddish hair streak. "New dye?"

They'll hang up their coat wherever directed to. Morgana will immediately start looking around the apartment. He's seen it from the outside before, but the inside is a whole other matter.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Like thunder following a flash of lightning, Kurou is right there beside Umie. "It's fine," Umie shakes her head, as if used to it.

... Goodness knows Kurou'd had to deal with much, much worse happening in front of him recently, when it came to her.

With Ren at the door now and Kurou offering to wash dishes afterwards, Umie must clearly... accept. "Well, I won't say no." She grins, using a pinkie to feed a wayward bang back behind one ear. "It's not a big deal, though! Chopping will help, though~ you're better at it than I am." She angles her chin towards the door. "I'll go let Ren in while you handle the mushrooms. That sound good?"

Soon enough, the door opens for Ren, with Umie there, dressed in a pink turtleneck and grey pants. "Glad you could make it, Amamiya-kun!" He said something about bringing a friend, didn't he? "Just hang your coat on the hook over there."

Kurou can't remember having hot pot before. Umie gives Kurou a lopsided smirk as she notices his pupils expanding at the sight of the package of beef. "Then you can't be disappointed. It's hard to do hot pot for one."

As Ren's friend pops out of Ren's shoulder bag, Umie fights to keep from making any embarrassing sounds. "What a handsome fellow..." she coos instead, kneeling down to get a closer look. "Look at those blue eyes...!" She offers to scritch on Morgana's fine head, lips widening an un unabashed smile. "So he travels like that with you, Amamiya-kun? Wow... I thought cats were usually too independent to do something like that."

When Kurou inevitably needs his own 'fix', Umie will take over the meal prep. "Either of you need something to drink? We have some soda in the fridge and some juice."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Sometimes having to deal with worth things does not make the smaller things pale in comparison. Sometimes it puts them under sharpened spotlight, as if each moment could grow into one like the time that came before.

But the blood washes away in the sink, where it once refused to in a half flooded ship.

And if Kurou can do once thing well, it is cut. "Yes, Akabane-san." He only eyes the knife for a few moments in silent, unreadable judgment a few moments before deftly chopping what remains.

He does not rush wastefully, but nor does he loiter in his task so that he can be swift to emerge from the kitchen and greet Ren with a bow. Then he immediately presents a small sticker of a cartoonish ebi sashimi with a cutesy face.

"Congratulations."

Kurou has his own :3 mochi sticker on the back of his hand. If Ren should offer theirs in kind, they will be bestowed the blessing of a completed exam in a similar manner.

Once Kurou spots Morgana, he bows to him as well. "Welcome, Morgana-san," Kurou greets with the same respect he would give any human.

Before anyone might suspect that Kurou knows something about Morgana's true nature, he proves that he is simply being polite to what he thinks is a regular cat by kneeling down in pursuit of that inevitable fix. He offers his hand, fingers curled in, for Morgana to sniff. Only after this show of nonhostility does he venture giving Morgana a scritch behind the ear.

Standing again he blinks once at Ren, then his eyes lose focus a moment as he tries to focus on his own hair. "... Oh. Yes. I was trying to be... festive. I will redo it again soon."

For drinks, Kurou moves to the fridge. "I can get them for us." He pauses, considering. Normally, he drinks water or makes tea. But today, perhaps accepting the celebration, he reaches for juice, and awaits Ren's answer to fetch in kind.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
A handsome fellow! Umie has fine taste, no doubt. (Morgana will conveniently ignore her love for Shiryuu at the moment.) Morgana lifts his chin to accept her scritches while his tail undulates.

He also ignores her calling him a cat. He has to endure it for the sake of keeping their cover...

"Yeah," Ren replies, smiling slightly as they watch. Their coat and scarf go up; they're wearing a thinner black jacket underneath with a white V-neck shirt and blue jeans along with their usual glasses and wristwatch. "He likes getting to ride."

Well, it's not ''not'' true...

Morgana turns his head to stare at Kurou when he greets him like a human. Soon enough, though, he kneels down to present his hand as if to a cat, and Morgana sniffs it in resignation before allowing ear scritches. He's not ''crazy'' about it, but the cover must be kept. He'll pull away and walk off deeper into the apartment sooner than he would have for Umie, though.

"Thanks," Ren says to Kurou meanwhile, accepting the ebi sticker on the back of their own hand. When in Rome... or rather, in the Akabane residence. They admire it with another slight smile, then hum thoughtfully when Kurou reveals the reason for the red streak. Umie offers drinks--Kurou to fetch them. "I'll have a soda, please and thanks. Grape Manta if you've got it, but anything's fine."

They pause.

"Also, if you have any milk, Morgana likes it heated up, then allowed to cool to room temperature." Ren pauses. "He's ''very'' particular about that."

"Mrow!" Morgana agrees, ears swiveling towards the kitchen as his mood already starts picking up.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It was an occasion that did not pass without consequences. Shiryuu, moved by his inability to keep one of his own from dying, began to try to lash out at any possible source of danger to his clan. He didn't even spare his 'bond' from his scrutiny, once the rumor about a certain ancestral 'ninja princess' brought the Ryouharas briefly into the public eye.

(Then Umie ruined it by being Umie and refusing to play the part of a proper hostage.)

And why yes, Morgana, Umie has fine taste! Just ask Shiryuu about his new scarf! (please don't)

Knowing that darker side to Kurou's abilities and skills, Umie feels guilty in how it makes the cuter moments of his all the sweeter for the contrast. It shouldn't be that way in the first place, after all; seeing him exchange stickers with Ren and treat Ren's friend like a proper human should be things that are cute on the face of it all, rather than a study in contrasts. He should be able to remember if he's ever had hot pot before.

But would he be Kurou, if he never had that question? Would Shiryuu be fully *her* Shiryuu, if he had never lost a part of himself?

Ren wouldn't have to deal with these questions... nor should he.

"I think we do have Grape Manta." Umie may or may not have just so happened to have bought two cans of Grape Manta when she was going out for ingredients, along with whatever Kurou would care to drink.

(Just a coincidence, really. For all she knew, Grape Manta may have fallen off Ren's 'like' list after possibly getting associated with exploding glass and muddy memories.)

The milk, though... "Yeah, we got some." Heated up and left to let cool, huh... Umie smirks. "Alright. How can I refuse that face?"

Leaving the canned drinks to Kurou, she takes out the milk and, making sure of the expiration date (they don't drink a lot of it), she gets out a saucer for the milk, popping it in the microwave. "... Hm. I guess... a minute would do..."

The rest of the prep will go smoothly; the broth set to a simmer in the electronic hotpot. "I got a lot of veggies, so eat up." Most of them are the more inexpensive kind: carrots, napa cabbage, tofu, green onions. There's even a pack of udon noodles, and some ramen noodles to use up the leftover broth in the following days.

All are put into the hot pot to simmer and boil, with some set to the side with the beef, as well as some bowls and sauce. ".... I think that's it..." Umie considers, sitting down with a can of Cielo Mist. "Itadakimasu~"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Shiryuu's own heart was also something wounded, Kurou thinks. Has been, perhaps. He is not sure what to do about it, beyond his loyalty. But he thinks Umie is an important part of a future that still has Shiryuu as Shiryuu in it.

Fortunately, wandering away from attention from strangers is perfectly acceptable cat behavior. Kurou suspects it must be a lot of simulation for a cat... and understands that a new territory must be thoroughly scouted.

So it is that Kurou wanders the world with more contrasts: sharp perception in the world of danger of violence, and almost complete obliviousness everywhere else. He stands a little straighter as Ren accepts the sticker.

All is well in the realm of positive reinforcement in education.

Kurou takes a Grape Manta for Ren and an apple juice for himself, thinking nothing of the fact it is conveniently present. At the mention of milk with a look to Umie with his own silent plea to bestow treats upon their kitty visitor. Not that Umie was planning to refuse.

As they settle with drinks and hot pot, Kurou bows his head. "Itadakimasu."

Then immediately gets his phone...??

Uncharacteristic rudeness is an unfortunate consequence of needing to do very important research as he squints at the cracked screen.

"Carrots... yes if cooked, onions, no... Tofu, no... Beef... small portions..."

Kurou looks up, from Umie, and then to Ren. This is about ''their'' cat, after all. "If we do it before adding any green onion, then... perhaps Morgana-san could have a little of the beef."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
That's called "gap moe," Umie.

"Cool. Thanks," Ren says of the grape Manta. Anything that they can do to help out, they'll do--setting the table if it isn't already, for example. If there isn't anything to do, they'll wait quietly with their soda. Once dinner is ready, they bow with hands pressed together. "Itadakimasu."

He heads quickly over to the kitchen when Umie sets down that saucer. It'll need some time to cool down, sure, but once it has, he'll be ready to lap it up. Adult cats are lactose intolerant, you say? Well, Morgana's ''not a cat'', so there.

Likewise, Kurou is sadly responsible enough to check what foods in hot pot are okay for cats to eat. Ren glances at him, realizing what he's doing when he mentions the onions. "Morgana has a strong stomach. I'm sure some beef would be fine and deeply appreciated," they comment blandly.

Morgana looks up, ears once again perked forward. He'll happily gobble up some shabu shabu beef; it might not be tuna, but he will accept the tribute of tasty meat all the same. This is revenge for the loss of his sushi!!
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> And here was Umie, trying to make it more complex! It was Gap Moe all along...

As for Morgana, there's plenty to look at while the gang is getting set up: a small hip level bookcase with an partially closed jewelry box on top, though not the sort of jewels one would find in mementos or a palace. (Those'd be stashed away in a hidden compartment inside a thick, boring-looking book.) It *is* notable for a new pendant there, which Kurou, if he happens to notice it, may or may not recongize as Shiryuu's handiwork, judging by the fine quality in metal work, as well as the attention paid to the pale jadeite set into the center.

There are some other books, including a few on some mythological figures, literary figures, a dog-earred copy of Arsène Lupin versus Herlock Sholmes, and... a collection of H. P. Lovecraft. ha ha ha moving on-- Are those plain paper maiche masks in the area between the rolled up futons and the wall? Oh no, it's something everyone already knows about Umie!

Which sums up a lot about the apartment in general depending on how much Morgana cares to explore, unless Kurou has left anything of his around. By the time Morgana's had his fill (if he explores at all), his saucer of milk will hopefully be the preferred temperature for his tongue, with Umie none the wiser over cats usually being lactose intolerant.

But Ren'd know best, right?

Popping a piece of beef in her mouth, Umie nods, satisfied. "What subjects did you do best in this time around?"

She notices Kurou on his phone, and stops mid-journey towards grabbing some carrots. Is he beginning to embrace his surly teenagehood??? ..... oh "... Huh." She looks to Ren, nodding as he gives his permission. "I don't see why not, since Morgana's a guest. Amamiya-kun, I'll let you have the honors."

On the TV, she looks up, briefly distracted by a promo for 'Flower Talk', showing Hana Fukami, talking with a recent guest. "... Oh, hey," Umie points her chopsticks to the screen. "I actually ran into her recently. Real nice."

The fact that Umie did it as 'Kokoro Akechi' is something she'll conveniently leave out.

As well as the slight frown, which disappears behind a drink of her soda. "At Kaori's in Sumaru City."

</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Kurou is conveniently oblivious of 'gap moe'.

Also conveniently, Kurou does not look up the milk issue, nor stumble into it. But he does do the rest. In the end, Ren should know Morgana best, and he nods slowly, pocketing his phone again.

(He might be ''less'' conveniently oblivious of a certain jadeite pendant. But do we really worry what Kurou assumes about such things anymore?)

Now that Morgana's participation in this -- even Umie notes he is a guest -- has been addressed, Kurou can eye the hot pot himself. He watches Umie and Ren, as if there is some technique he might observe before making his own attempt to dip and cook his food. A shared pot in a warm apartment, with warm company...

He leaves the beef on his tongue for a few moments, chopsticks resting against his lips and eyes closed, simply to savor the taste and temperature of it.

Kurou's eyes only open when someone speaks again, and he glances to the TV.

"'Flower Talk'..." he echos of the title. "... Gardening...?" It is entirely possible Kurou has never identified what a 'talk show' is directly. But he catches that frown of Umie's, head tilting.

"Does that not make sense for flowers...?"

Well, it's not literally a show about flowers.

Regrettably(??), he goes for the carrots next himself. No surly teenagehood here at all...
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
Gap moe can be as simple or as complex as you want it to be. Gap moe just might be one of the reasons Ren's become so smitten with Goro Akechi.

As for Kurou, being oblivious of his own gap moe is part of his gap moe. The gap moe is strong in this one...

Morgana does indeed explore the apartment. The books are interesting but not especially revealing, and the masks are indeed something he and Ren already knew about Umie. The jewelry is nice, but not knowing Shiryuu made it, it just looks like some pretty hand-crafted jewelry.

After that, well, it's not a very big apartment. There's not much more to explore. Morgana will return soon enough, especially once it's decided he does indeed get to have BEEF. It's still no tuna, but he'll take it anyway.

As Ren swishes some beef and then fills up a saucer to serve to Morgana with the milk, Umie comments on the muted TV's program. "Hmm?" They look up and spot-- "Oh, it's Flower Talk," they remark. "I've caught a couple of episodes of that during break."

Umie's met Hana too, huh? Ren almost smiles at her, but while her drink might hide her mouth, there's something about the rest of her face that doesn't seem pleasant. "Yeah?" they prompt her, of Hana being nice--and of her having met her. "That's cool."

When Kurou guesses that Flower Talk is about gardening, Ren shakes their head. "It's more a talk show for housewives," they say, returning to the table and cooking up some vegetables and tofu up for themselves. (Morgana got their share of beef. They'll have a couple slices if there's any left.) "I've only seen a couple episodes, though. Maybe they do talk about gardening sometimes."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie would be lying if that wasn't a part of her attraction to Shiryuu, as annoying as it can be. The boy embodies the capability to be deadly and threatening in his intent and action, but by the same token, he is wholly unable to keep himself from grandstanding over the dumbest things imaginable. A chicken cutlet, *really*?

There are other touches to Umie's environment, like the mounded plant in a pot up on a shelf, but, like the jewelry, its significance is only in its origin, and even then... it would have confirmed what he and Ren would already know.

Umie gives a discrete look to Kurou as he tries to figure out how to proceed with the ceremony of 'hot pot'. "I like sesame sauce, myself," she says, helpfully. "But I did get some ponzu sauce if you want to try that."

Her eyelids lower, content as she watches the two eat-- wait, no. Is that the trap?! Is that the way a girl becomes a housewife?!

NOT ON HER WATCH.

She *takes* some beef and swishes it around, triumphantly returning it to her bowl.

"You'd think, with her name, but no," Umie begins, dipping a piece of cabbage in her small bowl of sauce, along with the beef. She pops both in her mouth.

This electric hot pot is going to pay for itself, she quietly decides then and there.

"But it's surprising... It's easy to look at someone smiling for the camera and forget they're a normal person, underneath all that. Even she gets a little stressed out from time to time, it seems; she was looking for some flowery scents."

It almost feels... *too* cozy. Too comfortable. Too normal.

Mai-chan should be coming soon. She always does, when Umie is happy without her.

Even the kimono designer, showing the hottest trends that'll likely follow for this year's Coming of Age ceremony, doesn't quite seem to fit the level of dread Umie's beginning to feel.

She regards the TV with a lingering sense of melancholy. ... almost that time, huh... she doesn't really *feel* like an adult.

"Yeah, I'd catch them when I'm home. It's good for having on in the background sometimes, when you need something to listen to. Hard to believe her show only started last July..."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
There is also the manner of Kurou's section of the apartment, should Morgana venture to inspect his things. It is a meager offering, for it is Umie that has provided much of makes a home. Kurou keeps what is his to small spaces, and ever portable. What isn't hidden -- and isn't in the kitchen -- is that fluffy blanket and a small, time worn canid plush, missing an eye, but sitting on top of it to hold the fabric crown Kurou cosplayed in.

It'd be damning information, if Morgana were actually a cat. Is Kurou actually team dog?!

But otherwise, he keeps his presence here difficult to notice or trace. Perhaps it's a ninja thing.

"Ponzuuu," Kurou says, with just the ''slightest'' extension of the word. He likes the way it feels to say, and decides to see how it feels to taste.

In the end, he ends up favoring the cabbage with his beef.

"Oh, like lavender..." Kurou says, as if remembering something. It's a flowery scent meant to deal with stress.

Ren says they've seen a few episodes, too. "Mm... Housewife wisdom sounds like it would be valuable... I will pay attention when it airs."

And someone who Umie thinks is 'nice'... That is valuable, too.
</poem>

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-08-15: The Curse of the Colonel

2026-08-28T00:17:58Z

Tanyuu: Created page with "*'''Log: The Curse of the Colonel''' *'''Cast:''' Colonel Penguin (as the Colonel), Lisa Silverman, Suzume Fukura, Jun Kashihara, Katsuko Yoshinaga, Isabeau Fontaine, Kazusa Motojima, Umie Akabane, Shinobu Shimizu, Shiryuu Ryouhara, Goro Akechi *'''Where:''' Aoba - Main *'''OOC Date:''' August 15, 2026 *'''IC Date:''' December 25, 2012 *'''Summary''': ''Once upon a time in Sumaru City fans of the home team, the Sumaru Demons, g..."

*'''Log: The Curse of the Colonel'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Colonel Penguin]] (as the Colonel), [[Lisa Silverman]], [[Suzume Fukura]], [[Jun Kashihara]], [[Katsuko Yoshinaga]], [[Isabeau Fontaine]], [[Kazusa Motojima]], [[Umie Akabane]], [[Shinobu Shimizu]], [[Shiryuu Ryouhara]], [[Goro Akechi]]
*'''Where:''' Aoba - Main
*'''OOC Date:''' August 15, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 25, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''Once upon a time in Sumaru City fans of the home team, the Sumaru Demons, got a little rowdy after a game and cast a certain franchise mascot's statue into the Tanabata river. Now, a rumor has been spread that the statue has returned- with a vengeance! Woe be unto any couple caught out on Christmas Day, especially those celebrating as is traditional- with Fried Chicken.''

----

<Pose Tracker> Colonel Penguin has posed.
<poem>
It's a balmy Christmas Day. Despite it being a white Christmas with a fresh layer of snow on the ground, it's not too cold outside, nor is there much of a breeze. It makes for a magical day to spend with someone special, for in Japan, it is considered a romantic holiday. One, which you enjoy over Fried Chicken, or perhaps Christmas Cake.

In the early evening, however, the Aoba district of Sumaru City's silence is broken by- music? Could it be Christmas Carolers? A local Catholic Church singing hymns?

No, it's a someone whistling in a minor key, some kind of jingle? Unfamiliar to most, unless you were alive in the early eighties. It bears a pregnant menace of sorts, one which all within Sumaru City can hear.

A woman bites into the Christmas Chicken she's eating with her sweetheart, and suddenly has to run to the restroom as her stomach gurgles a little too loudly. A man strolling with his girlfriend slams into a street lamp, his nose crunching from the immediate fracture, forcing the two to divert to the hospital. A high school girl leans in for the kiss and sneezes right in the face of their boyfriend, ruining the moment.

Kids throwing snowballs at the park, find the packed snow contains another surprise, rocks. Rocks that no one put in there. As one kid falls victim to this snowball foul, crying, the only thing louder than their sobbing remains that whistling.

A car slams into the enormous Christmas Tree stationed outside of Aoba Way, causing it to fall over, as the street is suddenly blocked by the three car pileup that follows. More and more events happen to so many people throughout the city.

Chaos erupts, as misfortune blooms in Sumaru City. And in the middle of the maelstrom of unlucky happenings, is a statue that looks as if it must be made of plastic. A genteel Southern American Gentleman, features worn away in part by the elements. With each step, the tap of a cane punctuates louder than his hollow steps.

"Did you think ah had forgotten, people of Sumaru? Did you think ah had forgiven?" He pronounces, through a suddenly animated mouth, his dialect, a strong Kansai accent, "Just because you finally retrieved me from the watery tomb you consigned me to does not mean my fury has abated."

Decades ago, fans of the Sumaru Demons got a little rowdy after a major victory, and threw a statue of a popular Fried Chicken Chain's founder into the Tanabata River. Ever since then, the team hasn't won- a single championship. Indeed, it hasn't even made it there.

It was whispered for years that it was the 'Curse of the Colonel' upon them. Three years ago, a concerted effort was made to find it, raise him out of the river, and place an omamori talisman of warding upon said statue to break the curse.

There is no omamori around his neck now.

"Tonight, this power of mine reaches its zenith. Ah'll show each of you that revenge is a dish best served... ''CHICKEN FRIED''!"

He raises his arms high, still bearing the cane, and the streets erupt with walls of flame.

OOC Notes: Tonight, there is an epidemic of bad luck all across Sumaru City. The initial csys attack represents this curse of bad luck upon your character. Describe some bad luck event that occurs while making your way to this fight. For characters outside of Sumaru City, it will be inflicted the moment you enter, so describe it anyway!

You may come in swinging.

</poem>
AS: Colonel Penguin has readied for combat as Demon Rumor: Curse Of The Colonel! They are now fully healed! Ready for 9
opponents!
AS: Persona! Colonel Penguin has used the Almighty skill The Curse Of The Colonel on Isabeau Fontaine, Jun Kashihara,
Katsuko Yoshinaga, and Kazusa Motojima!
| Pressure: Colonel Penguin gains 1 Limit!

AS: Persona! Colonel Penguin has used the Almighty skill The Curse Of The Colonel on Lisa Silverman, Shinobu Shimizu,
Shiryuu Ryouhara, and Suzume Fukura!
AS: Persona! Colonel Penguin has used the Almighty skill The Curse Of The Colonel on Umie Akabane!
AS: Avoid Worst! Kazusa Motojima takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's The Curse Of The Colonel.
| Blast (Magic and Block Penalized!) and Spd_Dn (Avoid Penalized!) added!

AS: Take! Isabeau Fontaine takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's The Curse Of The Colonel.
| Paralyze (Physical and Avoid Penalized!), Rage (Weapon Attack and Incoming Damage Up!), and Atk_Dn (Damage down!)
added!

AS: Mind Up! Jun Kashihara's SP +8!
AS: Avoid Neutral! Jun Kashihara takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's The Curse Of The Colonel.
| Rage (Weapon Attack and Incoming Damage Up!) and Spd_Dn (Avoid Penalized!) added!

AS: Block Neutral! Shinobu Shimizu takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's The Curse Of The Colonel.
| Haze (Physical and Block Penalized!) and Def_Dn (Block Penalized!) added!

AS: Avoid Best! Shiryuu Ryouhara takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's The Curse Of The Colonel.
| Haze (Physical and Block Penalized!) and Spd_Dn (Avoid Penalized!) added!

AS: Avoid Best! Umie Akabane takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's The Curse Of The Colonel.
| Blast (Magic and Block Penalized!), Charm (Attacker or Ally takes Damage!), and Def_Dn (Block Penalized!) added!

AS: Take! Suzume Fukura takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's The Curse Of The Colonel.
| Pain (Attacker takes damage on healing and PL 0 attacks!), Poison (Damage on end of turn!), and Def_Dn (Block
Penalized!) added!

AS: Take! Katsuko Yoshinaga takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's The Curse Of The Colonel.
| Crt_Dn (Critical down!) added!

AS: Avoid Neutral! Lisa Silverman takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's The Curse Of The Colonel.
| Paralyze (Physical and Avoid Penalized!), Rage (Weapon Attack and Incoming Damage Up!), and Crt_Dn (Critical down!)
added!

<Pose Tracker> Lisa Silverman has posed.
<poem>
Lisa Silverman is not having a great day. Oh, the snow is beautiful, but the person she wants to see on Christmas she can't today...

...And while she was having a nice time with a few fans, it went--poorly. She put on a little show for the fans who'd gathered, and promptly stepped on the ice, whirled, and fell ''straight'' on her butt in a very embarrassing moment. That would've been bad enough, except--

Her phone screen cracked!! She'll have to get a new one...

Misfortune blooms, and Lisa suffers similar bad luck as she goes. By the time she arrives to see the statue, her white coat is ''dirty'', her boots are icy, and her mood is foul.

"You--"

Fire. Fire everywhere! Aaaah!

"I."

"Don't."

"Even."

"LIKE CHICKEN!"

Lisa shouts with rage as she ''charges'' the Colonel outright. She winds up, coils her muscles--

and PUNCHES for the Colonel's face outright!!

"I LIKED THIS COAT!"
</poem>

AS: Weapon! Lisa Silverman has used the Strike skill Dragon Knuckle on Colonel Penguin! 2 Hits!
| Aggression: Lisa Silverman gains 1 Limit!

AS: Counter Neutral! Colonel Penguin takes 63 Strike damage from Lisa Silverman's Dragon Knuckle.
| COUNTER! Lisa Silverman takes 61 Strike damage in return for her attack!

AS: Counter Neutral! Colonel Penguin takes 63 Strike damage from Lisa Silverman's Dragon Knuckle.
| COUNTER! Lisa Silverman takes 61 Strike damage in return for her attack!

<Pose Tracker> Suzume Fukura has posed.
<poem>Suzume came to Aoba on Christmas Day, there to meet up with -

Well, no. Scratch that.

Suzume had planned to come to Aoba on Christmas Day, there to meet up with Reiya for traditional fried chicken and then to the popular Aoba Park. (Why didn't they just come together? you ask. The answer was that it kind of ruins the point if they spend an hour with each other on transit first, doesn't it?)

That was the plan, anyway. But instead, Suzume is here, by herself, in black pants and a dark purple shirt she probably bought because it's almost the exact same colour as her hair and a jacket, typing on her phone.

> what do you mean the transit's late
> oh, that's not so bad if it's just mechanical issues
> so half an hour

Reiya was unfortunately delayed on one of his transit legs and had to be moved onto the next one, which was not expecting another wave of passengers, which means he's *actually* on the one after that and is now running about thirty minutes late. Not the end of the world, but enough to annoy Suzume. Not at him, at train transfers.

"This sucks," Suzume says, as she sits on a bench near the outskirts of Aoba Park, setting her bag down between her legs.

About two minutes later, a car swerves the Christmas tree she was looking at, forcing Suzume to throw herself into the bushes rather than be the possible target of a tree chain reaction, as the CHristmas tree topples other things nearby.

---

Very shortly, an incandescently angry Suzume stomps out. She has dead leaves and broken twigs in her hair, a couple brown brambles stuck to her jacket and shirt (which probably accounts for the 'absolutely furious' part), an Evoker in one hand and a pair of what look like black metal tonfa, one in her other hand and one tucked in her armpit so she can hold the Evoker.

"I knew I should never come to Sumaru again without being armed! Every time I come here shit happens!" Suzume tries to brush some of the brambles off but only manages in scraping her hand; she's going to have to pick them out more slowly than that.

"You leave me out of this! I have nothing to do with the Sumaru Demons!"

Suzume holds up one other thing held between her fingers, pressed up against the Evoker: a keychain. Or, at least, the charm for a keychain. There's no keys on it. This is brand new. It also has a very different mascot on it: an adorable tiger wielding a bat.

As fire erupts, Suzume fires her Evoker, and Atalanta appears above her, her lionskin cloak billowing as she fires a shower of arrows at the Colonel!

"I'M A TIGERS FAN, YOU ASSHOLE!"
</poem>

AS: Persona! Suzume Fukura has used the Pierce skill Arrow Rain on Colonel Penguin! 3 Hits!
| Pressure: Suzume Fukura gains 1 Limit!

AS: Block Best! Colonel Penguin takes 18 Pierce damage from Suzume Fukura's Arrow Rain. Critical Hit!
AS: Block Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 41 Pierce damage from Suzume Fukura's Arrow Rain.
AS: Block Best! Colonel Penguin takes 14 Pierce damage from Suzume Fukura's Arrow Rain.

<Pose Tracker> Jun Kashihara has posed.
<poem>
As that minor key whistle resounds through Sumaru City, Jun is racing through the snowy streets as quickly as he safely can. After celebrating Christmas with his family, and his parents leaving to have a romantic date on their own, he'd browsed the Dark Side of Sumaru for any current rumors. There'd been some revived talk about the Curse of the Colonel that he'd paid little attention to--not when he saw a thread from a Sevens student entitled, 'Candid Suou-senpai Photos!!!!!'

In that thread there were a few blurry photos of what was nonetheless a tall, brown-haired man in red motorcycle leathers, looking over his shoulder, not far from Aoba Way.

It's Christmas--a time of miracles... a time of love. Perhaps Jun simply can't help himself when it's been so long since he's seen him last. He grabs his coat, thrusts on his shoes, and is out the door.

As accidents take place and chaos reigns, Jun spots the back of a brunet is red, reaches out to grab him by the shoulder--

"Tatsuya!!" he utters, pale face flushed.

The man turns around.

It is not Tatsuya.

It is, in fact, a grouchy-looking, bulldog-faced middle-aged man with stubble and a vaguely a similar haircut. "Whaddaya want, kid?" he demands around a cigarette, puffing out smoke with every word.

Jun rears back. The cigarette smoke alone does it, but it's far from the only reason. "M-my apologies. I thought you were someone else," he stammers, still red-faced, but now for a different reason.

The man skulks off. Jun breathes a deep sigh and settles on a nearby bench to stare mournfully up at the sky.

*SCREEEEEE''CRASH''*

He whirls around as a car slams into the nearby Christmas tree, jaw agape. A pile-up follows soon after. As he watches, astonished, more and more chaos unfolds, and a statue of the Colonel himself moves and makes his declarations of vengeance to the air...

"...is this ''your'' doing...?"

Jun rises to his feet, hands trembling in fists, as he turns towards the cursed master of fried chicken. Lisa, nearby, declares she doesn't even like fried chicken--ironic, considering her school's grade's Christmas Village event--but her decision to inflict immediate, decisive violence on the statue is reacted to with a flare of light all around the youth's feet. It synchronizes neatly with Suzume's own summoning, though it takes on a different nature than a rain of arrows.

"I," he declares as Argeiphontes arises above him, "WILL NOT FORGIVE THIS!!"

The snow ''billows'' as the gold-armored Persona points his caduceus at the Colonel and casts gale-force winds to rip towards him!
</poem>

AS: Persona! Jun Kashihara has used the Wind skill Dangerous Garula on Colonel Penguin!

<Pose Tracker> Katsuko Yoshinaga has posed.
<poem>While most would have found Christmas to be a time of joy, Katsuko found it to simply be a cavalcade of terrible things, each happening just long enough after the other to make sure the wounds were still fresh. Whether it was a new Homunculus rearing its ugly little head, her plans for the holidays being interrupted for yet another time, or all of her backup plans being scuppered since they required another person to attend with, there was simply no way to escape things going wrong. Christmas Day itself only served to sprinkle another helping of salt into the wound.

Her father had left her a present. It was, in all regards, a wonderful and well-thought out present. Lovingly wrapped in paper that held a delightful pattern, the box contained an imported set of miniatures that had not yet been released in the country - not widely, at least. Not widely enough that she could have procured it without significant expense. It provided little comfort, given that she could not talk to him about it in person, nor call him for the vast majority of the day, but she was nonetheless overjoyed that he'd gotten it for her.

However, there was one small problem. And it was a big one.
The paint she needed for it had all sold out in the shops near her, and as far as she could tell, a store on the edge of Aoba was the closest possible location that held it. Her information had been correct, and she'd paid no small amount of money to acquire it... which made it all the more galling when a car rushed through a puddle the very moment she exited the store, and made her way into the area proper to grab something to drink. The coat could be washed, and the indignity gotten over, but it only took one look at the spilled paints to know what damage had been done. There was no salvaging the dregs either - filthy water had diluted it all, and left her with little more than pots of sodden plastic.

It was hard to tell how Grim felt with just a glance. Her face was shrouded in silver or darkness, with one half layered in shade, and the bottom clung to by the rictus grin of a half-skull mask. SEven as she felt the fire lick at her costume and the heat seep beneath the supernatural fabric, she advanced from the shadows, revealing herself while she sized up her opponent. She could feel it sapping her strength, and the haze disoriented her aim, but she still brought her rifle to bear was little more than professional. Yet, when she spoke, there was venom in her voice, and a chill to her words, like a shard of ice was lodged in her heart.

"Your sins are unforgivable, and you shall face judgement for them tonight. Dantes - send this bargain bucket barbarian back into the river."
A man wreathed in shadowy fog emerged from behind her, and with a flourish of his sabre, sent a surge of roiling flame forward to engulf the accursed colonel.
</poem>

AS: Persona! Katsuko Yoshinaga has used the Fire skill Hell to Your Doorstep on Colonel Penguin!
| Katsuko Yoshinaga takes 45 damage from Stress!
| Ruin: Katsuko Yoshinaga gains 1 Limit!

<Pose Tracker> Isabeau Fontaine has posed.
<poem>
A Christmas date in Sumaru...

... it had been going fine, for a while. They were even having a ''walk in the park'' after a nice date which had, admittedly, involved Yasushi Fujihide shaming Isabeau over eating too much again.

But then --

-- that heavyset boy has pinned Isabeau against a tree, somewhere they ''think'' is discreet, and it's certainly a forceful overture from a distance, until

"SHIT!" Yasushi yells, as he pulls his hand back from the tree, sharply. "I got bit!"

"Eeeuh?!" Isabeau jumps away from the tree, swiping at her shoulders. "Get it off, get it off!! Aaaaaieeeee!!!"

"What's with you?!" Yasushi yelps, as he cradles his hand.

"I--I cannot stand ''spiders--!!''" Isabeau wails, as she clambers away.

"HEY--!!" Yasushi yells after her, but she's gone.

But there, as she flees...

... is the Colonel.

"You are ''joking'' to me," Isabeau pulls out of her phobic panic to stare.

"MIELIKKI!" She invokes, furiously, as she takes a vial from her belt with her free hand, crushing it in her grasp. The bronze weaves over her, blue flames erupting from the ignition, changing her as they burn.

No longer is she dressed like a sporty girl -- but clad in Victorian garb, a longcoat hanging off of one arm, a bronze vest across her chest, a belt with so many pouches and vials attached as it keeps up her trousers. There's a targe strapped to one arm; the other grasps her spear.

And she is still, elementally, Isabeau.

She's just in time to bear the strain of those flames. She twirls her spear, as she leaps from the street to the top of a car, fuming angrily. "I -- I was on a /date!/" She yells, angrily. "I did not /need/ an /interruption! I was /fine!/ You... you /embarrassed/ me!!"

As a little blue wasp-winged fairy rises up behind her, with oversized bear claws from the pelt draped over her and a golden dress, Isabeau yells: "I WILL CRUSH YOU!"

You know what that means:

It's time for first round Megido, that Almighty fury which explodes like a little star.

</poem>
AS: Persona! Isabeau Fontaine has used the Almighty skill Megido on Colonel Penguin!
| Defense: Isabeau Fontaine gains 1 Limit!

AS: Block Neutral! Colonel Penguin takes 144 Wind damage from Jun Kashihara's Dangerous Garula. Critical Hit! Weak!
| Panic (Damage when using Persona/Tandem!) added!

AS: Counter Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 128 Fire damage from Katsuko Yoshinaga's Hell to Your Doorstep. Critical Hit!
Resist!
| Def_Dn (Block Penalized!) and Spd_Dn (Avoid Penalized!) added!
| COUNTER! Katsuko Yoshinaga takes 89 Fire damage in return for her attack!

AS: Block Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 134 Almighty damage from Isabeau Fontaine's Megido.

<Pose Tracker> Kazusa Motojima has posed.
<poem>
Kazusa... doesn't really have anybody to spend the day with. Not in ''that'' way, at least. She did, however, spend a nice morning with her brother Kazuhiro.

They'd set up a table in Kazusa's studio so Kazuhiro could work on his own projects. (Well, Kazuhiro had sdone most of the heavy lifting, considering.) And they'd exchanged gifts. That part was nice.

But then she'd settled in to try and work at her Quintic tablet, and the battery for the stylus had died. Being near Akiba, this normally wouldn't be a problem.

The shop was out of stock. But they had a store in Aoba, and they could have them set it aside for her to pick up, perhaps?

So Kazusa was already in a bad mood when she stepped off of the train platform. And on her way she tried to stop to help someone affected by bad luck, only to get casually pushed aside into a lamp post as the person runs off. "Augh! Oh ''come on''!" she objects to the universe through gritted teeth, deciding to cut into the park to try and stay out of any more trouble. Or ''more'' reasos to be limping around.

And there she witnesses Isabeau being pinned by her date. There's no way she allows that, right?

... Well, that's not how she predicted Isabeau would get out, but that works? She decides to go after Isabeau, only to find... a living, angry statue. Kazusa stares at it in disgust, and then sighs. "... Ugh."

She /was/ dressed in a bright red dress with white fur trims and lace, with a hooded cloak draped over her shoulder. But as a butterfly drifts by her, she lashes out at it with a whip, dispersing it to sparkles that reform into a floating, half-vampire/half-human woman. And flames surge up her form, replacing the red dress with a circlet, purple tunic and skirt, and a black, starry cloak.

And the silver eyes, fangs, wolf ears and tail. Can't forget those.

She wincse as she feels the sharp ache in her back. "Mina! Masukukaja!" Mina raises her healthy right hand, and the spell's blessing falls on herself, Jun, Shiryuu, and Lisa to help ease their movements.

She glances aside to Isabeau. "... You ''know'' what today is, right? I seriously can't believe you agreed to go on a date with Fujihid on today of all days."
</poem>

AS: Persona! Kazusa Motojima has used the Almighty skill Masukukaja on Kazusa Motojima, Jun Kashihara, Shiryuu Ryouhara,
and Lisa Silverman!
| Support: Kazusa Motojima gains 1 Limit!

AS: Take! Lisa Silverman takes 0 Almighty damage from Kazusa Motojima's Masukukaja.
| Spd_Up (Avoid Improved!) added!

AS: Take! Kazusa Motojima takes 0 Almighty damage from Kazusa Motojima's Masukukaja.
| Spd_Dn removed!

AS: Take! Jun Kashihara takes 0 Almighty damage from Kazusa Motojima's Masukukaja.
| Spd_Dn removed!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> ===YEARS AGO===
'You're such a contradiction... You break up with him, and now, you want him back.'

As Mai-chan's sweet voice rang in her ear, Umie watched as Kaito, her former boyfriend of a few polite, dreamy months, clasped the hand of their classmate: the athletic, soft-spoken Sakoto a distance ahead.

'It's only, what, a week or two, since that breakup? I guess he didn't love you all that much...'

"I did it for his protection," Umie mumbled beneath her breath.

'I guess it'll be another Christmas, alone...'

===NOW===
..... Maybe, there is a reason why Umie is never allowed to have a date for Christmas, if this was going to be the outcome.

".... Bad luck..." Umie murmurs, as she looks around with a distanced, muted sort of horror, as she hold her bucket of fried chicken, freshly made. "Bad luck, everywhere..."

At least she got here early, so that she could stand in line at the FCC.

Her phone beeps; shifting her bucket of chicken under one arm, she opens it.

Shiryuu's running late.

Tapping a message for him to 'stay there' with the abstract reasoning of 'bad luck, supernatural, badbad', a screech of car tires draws Umie's attention up.

As a car swerves to avoid another in the rapidly escalating car wreck, it momentairely is pointed towards Umie there on the sidewalk, before the driver thankfully corrects himself.

However, as it zooms by, it launches a wave of wet, slate-colored snow, splattering all over the blonde's nice clothing, shoes, hair, and phone, giving her bucket of chicken a coating of asphlat flavored wet.

As the screen of her long-suffering phone goes blank, Umie looks up to see...

.... the colonel, his aura bathing the streets with red fire like he was a supervillain from one of those animes Shiryuu would mention.

"....." So that's why she's feeling hot right now....

Some days, in order to play into the role of the Badb in mythology, Umie would make a point of amping up the drama of a bad omen descending on an opponent in their prime.

*drip* *drip* "*achoo!*'

Nope. Hearing someone like _Jun_ raise his voice is something Umie cannot beat, nor is she someone in the mood of being theatrical in any sense of the word, right now.

"Fuck you and your stupid goatee to hell, you shitty piece of cheap plaster! YOU'RE RUINING MY FIRST CHRISTMAS DATE!"

Cue shrieky crow lady Persona, pointing claw, and a hollow pain in Umie's gut.

Yeah, that hurt, but it hurt _real good_ to get that out of her system.
</poem>

AS: Persona! Umie Akabane has used the Dark skill Bad Moon Rising on Colonel Penguin!
| Umie Akabane takes 45 damage from Stress!

AS: Charm results in party damage! Umie Akabane takes 90 damage!
| Ruin: Umie Akabane gains 1 Limit!

AS: Block Best! Colonel Penguin takes 0 Dark damage from Umie Akabane's Bad Moon Rising . Weak!
| Omen (Damage in 2 rounds!) and Panic (Damage when using Persona/Tandem!) added!

<Pose Tracker> Shinobu Shimizu has posed.
<poem>Christmas! A holiday for romance! It's something Shinobu hasn't thought about in a while, but... 'Tis the season, right?

...Well, that was the ''idea'', she got to talking with someone and it seemed like it was going great - they had a date planned for the day of and everything.

But - they got there and the tables were full. And even when they did get seated, their orders got mixed up with someone else's, which would've been fine if her date wasn't allergic...

And then the restaurant lost power before their orders could be remade, and that was the last straw that got the whole thing declared maybe a sign from above and called off.

Needless to say, Shinobu's Christmas day is pretty wrecked by now, and she walks the streets of the Aoba district, silently fuming with her hands in her coat pockets.

She should've taken that job tonight after all. At least she would've gotten ''paid'' for this.

...At least it seems like she isn't the only one having a rough day. Things seem pretty chaotic today. Wait, actually... she hears a man's voice rising above the commotion. Not forgotten, not forgiven...

...Wait.

''Wait''.

Of ''course'' this was going to happen. She's an 80s kid. She remembers. Of all the rumors to come to life...

...Chicken-fried revenge...

She never ''did'' get to eat - that just reminds her that she's still hungry - and that turns her frustration with the night's events into anger.

"...You picked the wrong night, old man. I was just looking for a punching bag." Shinobu says, and charges. She brought her duffel bag with her, thankfully - so she draws out her staff and rushes him down, jabbing it toward the statue.

It looks like there are other people here, too... but she'll acknowledge them once the initial rush wears off.
</poem>

AS: Weapon! Shinobu Shimizu has used the Strike skill Jab Flurry on Colonel Penguin! 3 Hits!
| Aggression: Shinobu Shimizu gains 1 Limit!

AS: Counter Neutral! Colonel Penguin takes 57 Strike damage from Shinobu Shimizu's Jab Flurry. Critical Hit!
| COUNTER! Shinobu Shimizu takes 47 Strike damage in return for her attack!

AS: Counter Best! Colonel Penguin takes 25 Strike damage from Shinobu Shimizu's Jab Flurry.
| COUNTER! Shinobu Shimizu takes 32 Strike damage in return for her attack!

AS: Counter Neutral! Colonel Penguin takes 57 Strike damage from Shinobu Shimizu's Jab Flurry. Critical Hit!
| COUNTER! Shinobu Shimizu takes 47 Strike damage in return for her attack!

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

"OH my god!"
"FNG-kouhai you have to save us!"
"How could you crash the truck so badly Benimaru!"
"It's not my fault, the load shifted!"
"More like a load of--"

(SHI: um. might be a minute)
The text was sent while hanging one armed off of the beam lodged through the cab's window desperately trying to counterbalance the tipped-over dump truck back out of the ditch and onto both of its axises.

two hours, a lot of mud and profanity, a hasty shower, and a cross-city run later

It's not even the _first_ weird thing that's happened to Shiryuu this week.

After the bit of emergency overtime aside, Shiryuu does manage to get away from the jobsite in time to get _back_ to the hotel (of course Indigo, the nice one uptown, not the ratty samurai-themed cosplay one across from the jobsite, that would be too easy.) to gather Akabane for ... she said something about this being the most romantic day?

Ryouhara has no concept of that.

But, here he is, in something approaching nice clothing, with a long grey zip-up cable-knit sweater worn in lieu of his usual haori -- mostly to keep his symbol from being recognized today. It's even gone so far that the boy's haphazard hair is jammed entirely into a matching knit cap, little jangling charms hung off of the front.

He's even taken his bandaging off for the purposes of looking nice, though his left eye stays shut for the duration.

Despite being entirely winded from running across town, and more than a little achy, and also still injured, the onmitsu, it seems, can be pressed to come out into public with the promise of chicken. "It feels like I've forgotten something," Shiryuu thinks aloud, patting his pockets.

He's got a text. 'stay there,' Umie said. "..." Shiryuu, who's already run across half of Sumaru, can only make a face. Obviously, the cell networks are having trouble. Somehow, he managed to evade most of the other disasters. Or rather, remained completely ignorant of them. Only now does he look up.

Oh, there's a statue. It's speaking in a rich, lustrous American accent. Wait, what?

Shiryuu's hand goes to his side where his sword would be. Oh. Right.
That too. Still. "....ah," Shiryuu frowns. A magical girl fight is -rapidly- breaking out. And some of it is glittering across him. Shiryuu's face does not appreciably improve.

"...don't turn into a sailor scout," he grouses at Akabane's direction under his breath. She's already angry. There's no escaping this, the boy grumbles as he assembles a full on archery bow from his pocket. Wait, what?

Oh. You're not familiar with ninjutsu, are you?

The sound of paper creaking ominously as a pale white geometric bow is strung and nocked with a mean looking arrow fills the air around him when he goes to full draw.

_WHOOM_
</poem>

AS: Take! Shiryuu Ryouhara takes 0 Almighty damage from Kazusa Motojima's Masukukaja.
| Spd_Dn removed!

AS: Weapon! Shiryuu Ryouhara has used the Pierce skill Hishinmeisen on Colonel Penguin!
| Aggression: Shiryuu Ryouhara gains 1 Limit!

AS: Block Neutral! Colonel Penguin takes 88 Pierce damage from Shiryuu Ryouhara's Hishinmeisen.

<Pose Tracker> Colonel Penguin has posed.
<poem>
As Lisa punches at the Colonel, she finds her punch off-center, parried by the snap of a cane. "Manners." He chides her, even as she punches again, this time connecting, only for her to have her wrist slapped.

And then he swings his cane, aiming right for her ribs, "That's no way for any lady to act, engaging in fisticuffs, spewing falsehoods." What's the falsehood? That she doesn't like Chicken! That's impossible.

Whereas Suzume, with the trains delayed, is having one very bad Christmas. Arrows rain down, and the Demon bats several waves out of the sky with his cane, before one finally sinks into his shoulder with a plastic thud, before vanishing.

"It is nothing personal, little boy. My revenge is against Sumaru City for their transgressions. You are simply collateral damage. But as you are a Tigers fan, perhaps you'd like to join me?"

A wave of his cane, and suddenly a large buttery biscuit is careening towards Suzume's head! Or more accurately, her mouth. While it's a devastatingly blunt object, a taste of it might just make her more sympathetic to his cause.

Jun- a magical Christmas might have been seeing Tatsuya, only for it to be- some random grouchy gentleman. He's understandably upset.

"I am responsible for these happenings, yes." He answers his question readily. "I demand satisfaction for past wrongs." Gale Force Winds rip at him, and the Demon is thrown back against a food cart. He then gets up, brushes himself off, and somehow, begins to ROLL UP HIS SLEEVES? Isn't he a plastic statue?

"Not holding back? Then I will conduct myself accordingly. Face the greatest evil ah have evah wrought upon this world- DOUBLE DOWN!"

And on both sides of Jun, two enormous fried chicken patties appear, to smash his person in the middle, as if he were merely the insides of a sandwich, before then vanishing.

Katsuko declares their sins to be unforgivable, as they send Edmund Dantes, a spirit of vengeance, at him. "The Wrath of Dantes cannot burn even half as hot as mah own." And with a wave of his cane, the roiling flame is split down the middle, snaking up the cane, before he then sends a stream of it back at her. "Face mah chicken fried retribution!" But that flame instead heats up the air around them, making them feel as if they were plunged within a vat of hot oil.

Megido then bursts like a tiny star right upon the Colonel, who staggers backwards, needing to brace himself with his cane to endure the fury of Isabeau Fontaine being embarrassed on a date. "You embarrass yourself, child. I know how to best discipline an unruly girl." He suddenly is on her, slamming his cane down hard upon one of her arms like a much worse version of a teacher with a ruler. "Spare the rod-"

Kazusa meanwhile stares at the statue in open disgust, and the Colonel meets that stare with an odd intensity. "Do not turn up your nose at me- you ingrate!" With a wave of his cane, there's a honeyed scent that surrounds Kazusa. "Or you'll find yourself barbecued!"

Right as licks of flame in the shape of bees appear and make a them-line right at her, detonating into fiery explosions on contact. It does smell quite nice though.

'Fuck you and your stupid goatee to hell'

"You've got a mouth on you-Nngh-" As he weathers the shriek, "And that goes double for that bird of yours. Let's see how it tastes deep fried."

And the air around Umie heats up rapidly, to the point where things start to catch fire in her vicinity, the heat of a hot burning pit full of oil.

Which is when Shinobu rushes in, staff jabbing, as he parries, and ripostes three times in turn, in a furious exchange of blows. "Ah accept your challenge." He says, as if he were challenged to a duel. Then with a point of his staff, the air around her heats up to scorching temperatures.

Which is when the paper of Shiryuu's bow reaches full draw, and fires its nocked arrow. It thuds right into his neck, before he waves his cane up to smash the arrow out of his neck.

"Savagery." He growls, as if expecting some Native American, rather than a Japanese ninja, "Shooting a man when his back is turned. You'll pay!"

Shiryuu better move quick because there are abruptly two Fried Chicken patties trying to turn him into the filling of a sandwich.

"Enough of this. Secret Recipe!"

Oh no, what is he planning?

"-Eleven Herbs and Spices!"

The air is suddenly full of a secret blend of herbs and spices, wait - that concentration of spice- it's Scoville levels!? They're beyond human tolerance! It's too high! IT'S FAR TOO HIGH! It's over NINE THOUSAND! Except... add like three more zeroes to that to get the real Scoville levels. Everyone suffers as a breeze pregnant with magical capsaicin stings at their eyes, their skin, their throat.

"As a gentleman, I'll allow all of you a single opportunity to walk away." He says as he stands in the midst of his storm of spiciness, like a cop that just shot tear gas at all of them.

</poem>
AS: Weapon! Colonel Penguin has used the Slash skill Breast Strike on Lisa Silverman!
| Pressure: Colonel Penguin gains 1 Limit!

AS: Persona! Colonel Penguin has used the Strike skill Buttery Fresh Biscuits on Suzume Fukura!
| Colonel Penguin takes 90 damage from Panic!

AS: Persona! Colonel Penguin has used the Strike skill Double Down on Jun Kashihara! 2 Hits!
AS: Persona! Colonel Penguin has used the Strike skill Double Down on Shiryuu Ryouhara! 2 Hits!
AS: Persona! Colonel Penguin has used the Fire skill Agi Deep Fryer on Katsuko Yoshinaga and Umie Akabane!
AS: Weapon! Colonel Penguin has used the Slash skill Wing Strike on Isabeau Fontaine!
AS: Persona! Colonel Penguin has used the Fire skill Honey Barbecued! on Kazusa Motojima!
AS: Colonel Penguin spends Limit on Reach!
AS: Persona! Colonel Penguin has used the Almighty skill 11 Herbs and Spices on Isabeau Fontaine, Jun Kashihara, Katsuko
Yoshinaga, Kazusa Motojima, Lisa Silverman, Shinobu Shimizu, Shiryuu Ryouhara, Suzume Fukura, and Umie Akabane!
AS: Counter Best! Suzume Fukura takes 116 Strike damage from Colonel Penguin's Buttery Fresh Biscuits.
| Charm (Attacker or Ally takes Damage!) added!
| COUNTER! Colonel Penguin takes 75 Strike damage in return for their attack!

AS: Avoid Neutral! Suzume Fukura takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's 11 Herbs and Spices.
| Panic (Damage when using Persona/Tandem!) and Poison (Damage on end of turn!) added! Charm removed! Explosion! 90
damage!

AS: Block Best! Lisa Silverman takes 56 Slash damage from Colonel Penguin's Breast Strike.
AS: Avoid Neutral! Lisa Silverman takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's 11 Herbs and Spices.
| Panic (Damage when using Persona/Tandem!) and Poison (Damage on end of turn!) added!

AS: Avoid Best! Jun Kashihara takes 31 Strike damage from Colonel Penguin's Double Down. Critical Hit!
AS: Avoid Neutral! Jun Kashihara takes 54 Strike damage from Colonel Penguin's Double Down.
AS: Nerve Up! Jun Kashihara's SP +8!
AS: Mind Up! Jun Kashihara's SP +8!
AS: Avoid Worst! Jun Kashihara takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's 11 Herbs and Spices.
| Panic (Damage when using Persona/Tandem!) added!

AS: Avoid Best! Shinobu Shimizu takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's 11 Herbs and Spices.
AS: Avoid Neutral! Shiryuu Ryouhara takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's 11 Herbs and Spices.
| Poison (Damage on end of turn!) added!

AS: Avoid Neutral! Shiryuu Ryouhara takes 59 Strike damage from Colonel Penguin's Double Down.
AS: Avoid Worst! Shiryuu Ryouhara takes 95 Strike damage from Colonel Penguin's Double Down.
AS: Avoid Neutral! Kazusa Motojima takes 64 Fire damage from Colonel Penguin's Honey Barbecued!.
AS: Avoid Worst! Kazusa Motojima takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's 11 Herbs and Spices.
| Poison (Damage on end of turn!) added!

AS: Avoid Best! Umie Akabane takes 42 Fire damage from Colonel Penguin's Agi Deep Fryer.
| Haze (Physical and Block Penalized!) added!

AS: You have 1 more attack in queue!
AS: Avoid Neutral! Umie Akabane takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's 11 Herbs and Spices.
| Panic (Damage when using Persona/Tandem!) added! Charm removed! Explosion! 90 damage!

AS: Avoid Neutral! Katsuko Yoshinaga takes 99 Fire damage from Colonel Penguin's Agi Deep Fryer.
| Haze (Physical and Block Penalized!) added!

AS: Avoid Neutral! Katsuko Yoshinaga takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's 11 Herbs and Spices.
| Panic (Damage when using Persona/Tandem!) and Poison (Damage on end of turn!) added!

AS: Avoid Best! Isabeau Fontaine takes 30 Slash damage from Colonel Penguin's Wing Strike. Critical Hit!

AS: Avoid Best! Isabeau Fontaine takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's 11 Herbs and Spices.

<Pose Tracker> Lisa Silverman has posed.
<poem>
Even Jun is mad! He won't forgive the Colonel! "YEAH!" Lisa agrees loudly, as Masukukaja by Mina Harker makes her feel faster, and all sorts of explosions occur on the Colonel. The cool Shinobu charges up into melee with her.

But parried--by a cane!?

"Ow!" The Colonel is like a grumpy old martial arts master! "I don't want old men telling me how to act!" Lisa grumps at him--but then she takes a strike to the ribs. She tanks it, but it winds her. "Oof--"

"No!" she calls as Jun is Doubled Down.

But the secret recipe comes and--

"Augh!" Lisa coughs, and coughs, and coughs, and then coughs some more. "You--big--jerk!"

She walks over and offers a hand up to Jun. "Focus," she advises. "...We're gonna kick this guy's ass."

"I don't have a chicken pun, but kehhei!! I'm mad!"

"EROS!" Lisa calls forth, and the stylish cupid in black jumpsuit and white fur whirls into being. "PRotect us!"

"Now COME AT ME you--you--"

Eros throws up her bow-hand and fires arrows into the sky, which cascade downwards into a torrent that becomes shields before Lisa, Suzume, Umie, and Katsuko!

"I'd rather have STEAK!"
</poem>

AS: Lisa Silverman spends Limit on Help Up! Panic removed from Jun Kashihara!Hyper (Next Attack Boosted/Incoming Damage
Down!) applied to Jun Kashihara!
AS: Persona! Lisa Silverman has used the Recovery skill Line Guard on Lisa Silverman, Suzume Fukura, Umie Akabane, and
Katsuko Yoshinaga!
| Lisa Silverman takes 90 damage from Panic!

AS: Take! Lisa Silverman takes 0 Recovery healing from Lisa Silverman's Line Guard.
| Phys_Safety applied!

AS: Take! Suzume Fukura takes 0 Recovery healing from Lisa Silverman's Line Guard.
| Phys_Safety applied!

AS: Take! Katsuko Yoshinaga takes 0 Recovery healing from Lisa Silverman's Line Guard.
| Phys_Safety applied!

AS: Take! Umie Akabane takes 0 Recovery healing from Lisa Silverman's Line Guard.
| Phys_Safety applied!

AS: Katsuko Yoshinaga spends Limit on Exploit! Katsuko Yoshinaga can use another Weak skill this round!

<Pose Tracker> Jun Kashihara has posed.
<poem>
An energizing wind blows across and up Jun, making his limbs more limber and his footfalls spryer. He turns to see Kazusa in her Transmutation costume, her Persona the source of the Masukukaja. "My thanks," he calls to her, the gratitude helping to temper his anger some in the moment.

Umie's right. When ''Jun'' gets pissed off enough to yell, you know you've done wrong.

Not that the Colonel cares. He brazenly admits fault and demands satisfaction anyway. "And what wrongs have the people of this city done to you? They're the ones who retrieved your statue from the bay in the first place!" he argues, whirling back to him. He'd go on about how the Sumaru Demons have already suffered by being a terrible team--something so infamous that even Jun, who cares negative amounts about sports, knows about it--but then the Colonel comes at him with ''fried chicken patties''.

Jun does not like fried food. It's far too greasy and heavy for his palate. He leaps backwards reflexively, just managing to evade getting squashed flat--but the thing about crispy fried food is that it's full of crunch break-off-able bits, and when they impact each other, they pepper him with a barrage of batter. He cries out as he takes a tumble into the snow, leaving him vulnerable to the snow of eleven herbs and spices.

It is hell. Jun is hurled into a violent coughing fit, filled with panic as he attempts to ward away the abominable heat by smearing snow across his face.

It might be just as well that Tatsuya isn't actually here...

Fortunately, by the time he recovers, Lisa's standing over him, holding out a hand. He blinks at her, and as embarrassed as he is to be seen like this, he accepts her hand with gratitude and gets to his feet. The power of friendship will always cut through whatever rage and panic he might feel.

"Yes, we will," he says coldly, glaring at the Colonel. Eros brings down shields to Lisa and several of the others, and after that spice assault, Jun knows well that to defeat this demon, he'll need to focus on support too. That's what he and Argeiphontes do best--and he'd like to encourage Lisa to do exactly as she just said.

Once again, light coruscates around him, and Argeiphontes sends forth another wind--but this time, one that gently peels away the burning spices, leaving behind the refreshment of a cool glass of milk, around Lisa, Shinobu, Umie, and Shiryuu.
</poem>

AS: Persona! Jun Kashihara has used the Recovery skill Amrita on Lisa Silverman, Umie Akabane, Shinobu Shimizu, and
Shiryuu Ryouhara!
| Support: Jun Kashihara gains 1 Limit!

AS: Take! Shinobu Shimizu takes 0 Recovery healing from Jun Kashihara's Amrita.
AS: Take! Lisa Silverman takes 0 Recovery healing from Jun Kashihara's Amrita.
| Panic, Poison, and Rage removed!

AS: Take! Umie Akabane takes 0 Recovery healing from Jun Kashihara's Amrita.
| Blast, Haze, and Panic removed!

AS: Jun Kashihara spends Limit on Shift! Kazusa Motojima can use another Weak skill this round! Hyper (Next Attack
Boosted/Incoming Damage Down!) applied to Kazusa Motojima! They both receive 8 SP and 30 HP!

<Pose Tracker> Suzume Fukura has posed.
<poem>It occurs to Suzume that, one, she is *definitely* stuck in Sumaru's rumours now, and two...

There's a lot of people here who probably don't anything about baseball.

Suzume doesn't have the power of a Navigator, but for probably the first time, she's encountering a mythological (well, urban legend? what's the word for that?) figure that, by virtue of being a pretty serious baseball fan, she is deeply familiar with. "Hey!" she calls. "The Colonel got dumped in the river, that's why he's mad in the first place! Try using Water!"

Unfortunately that's not an option for Suzume herself as she advances on the Colonel. She recognizes about half, let's say, of the people fighting him, but one of them she definitely is most surprised by is -

"Silverman-san? I guess you are from Sumaru, but funny seeing you here!" So soon after she Awakened to her power. For another first, Suzume gets what Yukari feels; it's a shame to see her get thrown right in without really meaning to (because she didn't choose to encounter the Colonel). It might be different if she'd chosen, but...

"I'll give you a hand again," she says, with a slight wince as she raises her hand toward her and Jun (there is a burr stuck on her neck and it's driving her nuts), before she turns toward the Colonel. Her reaction on having a biscuit thrown at her is immediate - more accurately, her reaction on having a roundish object about the right size, even if it's not quite the right shape, thrown at her is.

Suzume drops one of her tonfa entirely and grips the other one on the straight grip rather than the crossbar. It's not long enough for her to get a real two-handed grip, so she ends up gripping it correctly with one and kind of giving it a boost with the other; she'd give a lot to be borrowing one of Junpei's spares right now. But she swings -

And she catches the biscuit in a home run smash! The biscuit more explodes on impact than anything else, showering her with crumbs and making her sputter as she gets some of it in her mouth; biscuits always make her want a drink. But a big chunk of it flies right back at the Colonel.

"Wrong," she says, with that slightly crooked grin she's known for. "Girls can play baseball too."

(Suzume is actually more sensitive than she seems about that one. She likes to be treated the same way as the rest of the guys, but doesn't look *that* much like a boy; she likes pants and doesn't like tight shirts, but her face isn't particularly androgynous and neither is the rest of her. Plus, she actually exerted some effort today, so even though she *knows* she isn't very good at it, it stings in a way it normally wouldn't.)

Scooping up her tonfa, Suzume switches back to the crossbar grip as she charges. She rushes through the spices, eyes and lips burning even though she's trying very hard not to get it in her mouth, and she's holding her breath when she comes in with a double forward strike directly at the Colonel's midsection!

Suzume turns the first impact into a spinning movement around the Colonel, keeping up the pressure as she works her way around him, striking to try to keep him off-balance and unable to summon more food, delicious or not. She isn't even using Atalanta this time!
</poem>

AS: Weapon! Suzume Fukura has used the Strike skill Combo Impact on Colonel Penguin! 3 Hits!
AS: Avoid Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 101 Strike damage from Suzume Fukura's Combo Impact.
AS: Avoid Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 101 Strike damage from Suzume Fukura's Combo Impact.
AS: Avoid Neutral! Colonel Penguin takes 78 Strike damage from Suzume Fukura's Combo Impact. Critical Hit!

<Pose Tracker> Isabeau Fontaine has posed.
<poem>
Is there no way Isabeau allows that...?

... she wasn't fighting terribly hard, at least at a distance.

They do say girls like that kind of thing, but...

Never mind that, MEGIDO!

And the Colonel responds by not ''spoiling the child,'' his cane smacking down. "Do ''not!''" She snaps, as she springs off of the car's rooftop to escape him, landing instead on the top of a ''streetlamp.'' (More ninjutsu?! No, Shiryuu. This is the art... of the ''lancer.'') "

"He told me," Isabeau scowls, to Kazusa, notably ''after'' her arachnophobic freakout which she really ''would'' feel bad about if her mind hadn't been entirely hijacked by the terror of a spider existing somewhere around her. Phobias! They make you into a dick sometimes!! "What is the problem with it? It is a strange way to view Christmas, but we are seeing each other, so..."

Her scowl deepens, as she looks behind her. "... but, he was bitten by... euh... something? I... I came to handle this!" She ran away like a scared little girl. "Still... is he all right...?"

Tragically, Isabeau's nascent sense of empathy is cut short by seeing a guy fold a bow out of nothing. "An admirable trick weapon," she calls, to Shiryuu, as she herself presses a latch on her spear and the shaft collapses down to form a ''knife.'' "I have more tricks than this."

Girls can play baseball, Suzume says, and Isabeau replies: "Girls can excel at any sport they choose. Let me aid you! Mielikki, shatter her reservations!"

That's unkinder than it sounds; the little fairy scatters fairy dust over Suzume, and the Heal Break she inflicts will make it ''easier'' for people to heal her.

</poem>
AS: Persona! Isabeau Fontaine has used the Recovery skill Heal Boost on Suzume Fukura!
| Defense: Isabeau Fontaine gains 1 Limit!

AS: Take! Suzume Fukura takes 0 Recovery healing from Isabeau Fontaine's Heal Boost.
| Recovery_Break (Healing Up!) added!

<Pose Tracker> Katsuko Yoshinaga has posed.
<poem>Katsuko suppressed a shout of pain at the countered gout of fire. It was a difficult thing to manage - it felt like the fire seeped into the gaps of her costume and heated the silver until her skin singed. But she held on, and all that met the air was a sharp grunt before she regained her footing from stumbling back. Rifle still readied, she made to retreat back to cover to perform an analysis and gain some usable data, but the colonel's onslaught left her staggering down once more. It was one thing to be assaulted by the heat of the flames around them, but to be treated like some grease-dripping slab of poor-quality poultry?

The indignity of it all hurt worse than the heat.

His capsascin-crammed onslaught of spiciness suffused the air with a substance that subjected her to a stinging sensation with every breath taken only added to injury. Her lungs felt as though they were aflame, her throat threatened to be seared shut, and her tongue screamed for the cooling embrace of some dairy product or another. But, possessed of a singular force of will and the rage of losing some *very* expensive paints, Grim rose to her feet. Lisa's ward only served to bolster her confidence, and she turned to the stranger with a sharp nod.
"My thanks." She said to Lisa, before refocussing on their mutual enemy. "Now let's pound this purveyor of paltry poultry into paste."

Her vanishing back into the shadows, cloaked by her Persona and rendered into little more than a mote of darkness, might have seemed at first like she was running. But as some would find out soon enough, it was merely her laying in wait. Lisa was the first to be shown this, with Dantes shielding her from harm with a swipe of his cloak. Kazusa was next, with the only warning given being a voice from the darkness and a glint of a mask emerging from nearby.
"A foul thing. I hope you won't mind me going all out against this greaseball." She said flatly, before Dantes shielded her as well, leaving only a faint trace of healing in his wake.

Suzume was the last to receive the boon of Katsuko's attention, her having noticed she'd taken quite a chunk of damage.
"I trust that you have a distaste for this thing as I do. Let's make sure this pathetic hunk of plastic never bothers us again."

With that, Katsuko emerged from the darkness again, and refocussed her gaze on the colonel.
"And you, you utter clown... If you're going to do this, at least have the dignity to hone your recipe before you attack us. If mediocre chicken is all you have in your arsenal, then you should have stayed drowning." Dantes emerged as her wrath was declared, holding his palm forward to send dark energies surging into his foe. The Colonel's judgement was at hand, and he had been found wanting.
</poem>

AS: Persona! Katsuko Yoshinaga has used the Recovery skill Wait and Hope on Katsuko Yoshinaga, Lisa Silverman, Suzume
Fukura, and Kazusa Motojima!
| Katsuko Yoshinaga takes 90 damage from Panic!

AS: Take! Katsuko Yoshinaga takes 0 Recovery healing from Katsuko Yoshinaga's Wait and Hope.
| Cloak (Non-Area Damage Mitigated!) added!

AS: Take! Suzume Fukura takes 0 Recovery healing from Katsuko Yoshinaga's Wait and Hope.
| Cloak (Non-Area Damage Mitigated!) added!

AS: Take! Lisa Silverman takes 0 Recovery healing from Katsuko Yoshinaga's Wait and Hope.
| Cloak (Non-Area Damage Mitigated!) added!

AS: Take! Kazusa Motojima takes 0 Recovery healing from Katsuko Yoshinaga's Wait and Hope.
| Cloak (Non-Area Damage Mitigated!) added!

AS: Take! Shiryuu Ryouhara takes 0 Recovery healing from Jun Kashihara's Amrita.
| Haze and Poison removed!

AS: Persona! Katsuko Yoshinaga has used the Recovery skill Judge on Colonel Penguin!
| Ruin: Katsuko Yoshinaga gains 1 Limit!

AS: Take! Colonel Penguin takes 0 Recovery healing from Katsuko Yoshinaga's Judge.
| Dark_Break (Dark Affinity Down!) added!

<Pose Tracker> Shinobu Shimizu has posed.
<poem>Shinobu sends Lisa an approving nod. She can respect anyone willing to charge into combat with just their fists.

But the Colonel meets Shinobu's staff with his cane, returning each of her strikes with his own. He accepts her challenge, and points - and the air becomes irresponsibly spicy. Her spice tolerances are pretty good, but this is ridiculous...

Shinobu covers her nose and mouth, backpedaling out of the hot air - but it's already sticking to her, causing her eyes to water. Thankfully, Argeiphontes comes to the rescue. A cool, refreshing breeze blows forth.

"Thanks." She sends Jun a grateful nod before looking back toward her opponent.

"A 'gentleman'. That's rich. If you're a gentleman, I'm a queen... and you sure as hell won't see me lounging around on a throne all day." Shinobu retorts with a smirk. "You and your overpriced chicken can go to hell."

She rushes toward the Colonel, spinning her staff overhead.

"Get tenderized!" She shouts before swinging her staff out in two quick strikes aimed for the statue's head.

"Nice moves." Shinobu asides to Suzume with a nod. "Don't let this old-timey asshole tell you what you can and can't do."
</poem>

AS: Weapon! Shinobu Shimizu has used the Strike skill Bell Ringer on Colonel Penguin! 2 Hits!
| Aggression: Shinobu Shimizu gains 1 Limit!

AS: Shinobu Shimizu spends Limit on Help Up! Poison removed from Suzume Fukura!Hyper (Next Attack Boosted/Incoming
Damage Down!) applied to Suzume Fukura!
AS: Avoid Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 161 Strike damage from Shinobu Shimizu's Bell Ringer. Critical Hit!
| Blast (Magic and Block Penalized!) added!

AS: Avoid Neutral! Colonel Penguin takes 107 Strike damage from Shinobu Shimizu's Bell Ringer. Critical Hit!

<Pose Tracker> Kazusa Motojima has posed.
<poem>
Kazusa is ''supposed'' to be trying to be a better person.

... Surely it's okay to be snide to a-- demon possessed statue...? An angry ghost of Ad Campaigns PAt? A...

"You'd be surprised the things I can turn my nose up at!" she retorts. She frowns. "Wait, that didn't come out right--"

But she doesn't get a chance to fix that as she is forced to throw herself back to try and avoid the exploding bees. "Ow! You creep--" The Masukukaja made it easier to move but didn't do anything for the pain in her back. "Can someone tell me what the heck this thing is supposed to be?!"

And then a foul (spicy) wind blows, and Kazusa can't move fast enough to outrun it. And now her eyes and nose are burning. "Ow ow ow! You couldn't have offered us the chance to leave ''before'' doing that!? Some gentleman ''you'' are. That's it!"

Lisa doesn't want old men telling her how to act. "''Tell'' me about it," is Kazusa's comment to that.

She tries to give a nod to Jun. "Yeah, you're welcome." That comes out more dismissively than she meant, but she's distracted.

Kazusa huffs at Isabeau. Figures Yasushi would say ''something'', but knowing him... "Yeah, and what ''else'' has he been telling you? You know he's kind of a gross guy, right? I know you don't hear all the gossip, so let me fill you in."

Is he okay? "How should I know, he's ''your'' date." Meaning, Kazusa didn't stop to check on him either.

She blinks and looks around, sharp-eyed as a voice speaks from the darkness. "Wait--who's there?! Show yourself!"

But as annoyed as she may be by everything happening today (or most times), as she glances around she can see plenty of people that aren't in particularly good shape and sighs. "Mina, please help heal everyone!" she calls out.

Mina raises her right hand, and an intense burst of healing magic comes for Katsuko, Suzume, Lisa, and Umie to try and mend their wounds and keep them in the fight.

And then Kazusa points right at the Colonel. "Now, Grasping Eiha! Pin him down!"

Mina raises her ''left'' hand, the one that's of pale, ashen skin, with fingernails like claws, and in tandem a large hand of shadow manifests to try and grab at the statue.
</poem>

AS: Persona! Kazusa Motojima has used the Recovery skill Intense Mediarama on Katsuko Yoshinaga, Suzume Fukura, Lisa
Silverman, and Umie Akabane!
| Support: Kazusa Motojima gains 1 Limit!

AS: Persona! Kazusa Motojima has used the Dark skill Grasping Eiha on Colonel Penguin!
AS: Avoid Best! Colonel Penguin takes 84 Dark damage from Kazusa Motojima's Grasping Eiha. Weak!
| Bind (Magic and Avoid Penalized!) added!

AS: Kazusa Motojima spends Limit on Help Up! Poison removed from Katsuko Yoshinaga!Hyper (Next Attack Boosted/Incoming
Damage Down!) applied to Katsuko Yoshinaga!
AS: Take! Lisa Silverman takes 184 Recovery healing from Kazusa Motojima's Intense Mediarama.
AS: Take! Suzume Fukura takes 138 Recovery healing from Kazusa Motojima's Intense Mediarama.
AS: Take! Katsuko Yoshinaga takes 123 Recovery healing from Kazusa Motojima's Intense Mediarama.

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

I mean, technically he's being reasonable. As reaasonable as a fine American gentleman made of (plastic?) can be. Why is he talking like he comes from Kansai? Well. The Colonel is American, right? A lot of Americans talk like that, if Shiryuu understands the dub he caught Kiria watching that one day.

'DODO DYNASTY,' wasn't it? Something like that.

He is an exceptional villain, a man with a fearsome aura. "Obviously the enemy commander," Shiryuu reasons quietly as he assembles his bow, coming to the reasonable conclusion as any would of someone with the rank of 'colonel.' He, the shihaisha, however, has no interest in talking. He leaves the task of negotiating to the others to distract it while he assassinates the thing so he can get some yakitori. Or whatever Akabane was thinking before she --

"That is nonsense," Shiryuu says, plainly with a frown, as the Colonel snaps the arrow out of his neck and turns towards him. Shiryuu says it just like that: 'NANSENSU da.'

He's going to need stronger weaponry.

Suddenly, the aroma of hot chicken fills the air around Shiryuu, and the boy's single eye dilates as he becomes aware of hot, fleshy weight surrounding him. "!"

"KUH!"

The onmitsu diappears into a brutal, spicy mess, with a _wham_ as he vanishes briefly into a sandwich.

In the end, Shiryuu has to cut his way out with a knife, his kunai cutting into the patties as he breaks loose and cuts into a run for it, shouldering his Hishinmeisen as he goes. The origami bow was really only made for one shot -- and the fire and spices that are licking at the onmitsu's heels is too much for it right now -- he'd have to use his jutsu to repair it when he gets an opening.

"Akabane!!!" Shiryuu calls out, running across the field with his bow shouldered and his knife in his hand. "The enemy commander is highly resilient and -- *munch* his jutsu is extremely delicious! Stay out of range of his power!"

Yes, Shiryuu carved a piece of chicken for himself, on the end of his kunai. Sometimes in a situation of limited resources, you have to survive on the enemy's rations.

"--don't catch cold either!!" It is also -abundantly- clear he has no earthly idea of why he was called out, and is apparently lock-focused on the task at hand.

Without a full suite of supralunar power, the boy's options are limited. He'll have to get in close. "Stay there!" he tells Akabane, and is absolutely not listened to.

He's already running at the danger, in true Chariot fashion. This is why you don't summon shields for them.

As he goes, there is a tiny thread of resonance that trickles into the sensory unconscious, powerful enough to let the shield cast by Jun to visibly flex, lightning pulsing trickles of resonant power flaring across the translucent force in a steady, pulsing rhythm that can just barely be heard over the crackle of rudely spicy flames.

He's one of the few that actually hasn't summoned a Persona yet, but the force of that subconscious line of rhythm and force...

In lieu of an actual, visible Persona, the boy apparently has electric needles. The little flash of light sends the steel senbon crackling through the air towards the Colonel as he works to distract him, enough so that he can close the distance and use -- this shield? -- to penetrate into the Colonel and his brutal aura of eleven. He just needs to get close enough to him, then he can use Juurishojin. But first, without the winds at his call, he has to get close enough. So: Gashin-senbon first. Killing later.

It does beg the question as to what kind of guy brings a superfilament wristblade on a date. But that's a conundrum for later.
</poem>

AS: Shiryuu Ryouhara spends Limit on Psych!
AS: Weapon! Shiryuu Ryouhara has used the Pierce skill Gashin on Colonel Penguin! 2 Hits!
| Aggression: Shiryuu Ryouhara gains 1 Limit!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> As it turns out, Umie had missed Shiryuu's earlier text; in keeping with the theme, the ding was actually her email, helpfully telling her that she got a new email.

It was spam.

But oh, does Shiryuu ever look good, even if Umie's not entirely sure if he realizes the occasion she's called him here for.

Umie's cheeks momentairely flush at how he's dressed up, then flush for another reason when she realizes that new cute cableknit pink sweater and khaki pants are now sopping wet; if it weren't for her jacket, she'd be even worse off.

Her makeup? Could be worse. Her hair buns? Soggy. The bucket of chicken? A disaster.

'Don't turn into a sailor scout,' says Shiryuu.
"Okay, *that* reference I got," Umie grumbles back.

At least she's not wet for very long, as the colonel helpfully turns up the heat! And then some more, until it it way past being helpful and more Umie realizing the oil in her bucket of chicken has become reignited. "Augh!"

The healing from the newly awakened Lisa comes in handy, at least, And Jun? in spite of his rage, he is still so helpful.

"Silverman-san. Kashihara-kun." She should tell Jun about the thing she's learned about the possessed by that strange Joker Persona... but that can _surely wait_. "Thank you," she says instead, especially after seeing he's extended his powers to Shiryuu as well. Ah, with it being Christmas... hopefully Jun was able to get into contact with Tatsuya. There was some sort of rumor about Tatsuya on the Dark Side, but Umie especially knows how those things just draw more trouble, in the end.

And now everyone else knows, as well! Case in point: the Colonel. Whose jutsu is apparently very delicious, according to Shiryuu.

"I'm not standing back, not until his ass gets back in the river where he belongs!" Umie yells at her Christmas date.

Calm down, Umie. The colonel said something about birds, sooo--

"And this bird knows a thing or two about your weaknesses now..." Umie says, tapping a finger to her chin with a particularly vicious smile--

"--*achoo*" But then a sneeze ruins that momentum.

Taking a moment to rub her nose and eyes from the blast of eleven herbs and spices, Umie gives the glittery Kazusa a watery, runny nod of thankfulness. She'd say something, but all she can handle right now is breathing through her nose.

A half-covered hand is thrown up, as Umie points... and sneezes again.

"Vabe," Umie manages to say, as she chucks the grit-seasoned package of chicken right at the Colonel's stupid, stupid face.
</poem>

AS: Umie Akabane spends Limit on Exploit! Umie Akabane can use another Weak skill this round!

AS: Take! Umie Akabane takes 159 Recovery healing from Kazusa Motojima's Intense Mediarama.
AS: Persona! Umie Akabane has used the Almighty skill Hooded Smile on Colonel Penguin!
| Ruin: Umie Akabane gains 1 Limit!

AS: Persona! Umie Akabane has used the Dark skill Mudo on Colonel Penguin!
AS: Block Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 81 Pierce damage from Shiryuu Ryouhara's Gashin.
AS: Block Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 81 Pierce damage from Shiryuu Ryouhara's Gashin.
AS: Take! Colonel Penguin takes 0 Almighty damage from Umie Akabane's Hooded Smile.
| Charm (Attacker or Ally takes Damage!) added! Panic removed! Explosion! 30 damage!

AS: Block Best! Colonel Penguin takes 134 Dark damage from Umie Akabane's Mudo. Weak!

<Pose Tracker> Colonel Penguin has posed.
<poem>
"That explains everything." He says to Lisa, as she says she doesn't want old men telling her how to act. "You simply don't yet know your ''place''!" Before he then glowers at her, "Steak? Steak!? I see your palate is just as immature as you, little girl."

With a tap of his cane, a biscuit the size of Lisa's head forms, and launches at her with the speed of a bullet. "I must take responsibility in your refinement." Be careful, a taste, just might change your mind! Aggressively!

"Insolence!" He snaps, as Jun backs up Lisa's talk, and his cane arcs to attempt to snap against one of Jun's shins with bruising force. Thankfully, the power of Eros is guarding them, right?

A big chunk of biscuit flies back, and he staggers, "Women? In sports?" He says blankly, adjusting his glasses, "Who would ever pay to watch such tripe?" Whereas Isabeau echoes the same, and he scowls, "Women should spend their time learning more useful skills that befit the fairer sex. Can you even cook your own meals?"

As such, Suzume's tonfa strikes take him head on, as he tries to step out of the way only to get struck again, and again. "Poor form. Now-" An array of small nugget like pieces of chicken rise over him, before they all catch flame, and zip towards Suzume and Isabeau like shooting stars, "-ZINGER!"

The judgment of Dantes takes hold around him, but Katsuko might feel as if it's- redundant, somehow. Like he was already vulnerable to that which she is trying to do. Katsuko causes the Colonel to stand up straighter as he takes on a furious tone, "Mediocre, you say? You're calling my chicken ''mediocre''? I demand satisfaction for this insult, child. Face my retribution!"

What rises out of him, ''would'' look like a Persona at first glance. An enormous chicken, perhaps Vidofnir, of Norse legend. But- it's lacking feathers, instead bearing a crispy breaded skin. Which then catches on fire.

"Nashville... HOT!"

Like an enormous meteor, or perhaps tiny sun, it falls towards Katsuko at high speed, becoming a geyser of roaring flame.

Shinobu though declares if he's a gentleman, then she's a Queen, "Your majesty." He drawls, staring at Shinobu, in the face of her words. "My prices are eminently reasonable!"

He's off-balance, and thus two strikes bat him around, back and forth with harsh effect. "What is it your people say? Ah right-" Then holding up his cane, he tries to rap it harshly against her ribs, "-Chesto!" Grasping tendrils of darkness try to gather over him, but his forward momentum at Shinobu gets him just out of the way of a far worse blow.

"I call Fowl." He says to Kazusa, as a terrifying heat begins to form around her, catching the entire area on fire. In the meanwhile, Shiryuu finds himself seduced- not by Umie, but by the sweet sweet scent of fried chicken. Despite the prior one's vanishing, his bladework has turned the brief manifestation of chicken jutsu into...

RECEIVED: Christmas Chicken Cutlet x1

A cognitive item of immense healing power. Keep it secret. Keep it safe.

What kind of guy brings a superfilament wristblade on a date? The kind of guy who is prepared for a decades old urban legend to ruin his date, duh. The Colonel gets cut twice, shaving off part of his plastic mustache, yet for some reason, he seems happy, "You there sir, it seems I misjudged you."

Look he's just glad someone here isn't dragging his chicken. "May I offer you another of my famous recipes?" That sweet scent begins to form around Shiryuu, that telltale sign of honey, before numerous candle like flames, shaped as bees fall upon him, trying to Honey Barbecue the Onmitsu.

"I'm not going back!" The Colonel growls at Umie's assertion that his ass is going back in the river. Badb's curse, then goes off, as ruinous misfortune causes him to stumble into a pot hole of his own making.

Right as Mudo goes off.

His entire form is darkened, sizzling with Badb's dark power.

As he climbs back up to street level, seeing all the opponents arrayed against him, then- adjusting his plastic collar, then strolls up to Umie, trying to whack her hard in the shins, "Don't test me any further- or I'll cast you into the river myself!"

(At least he likes her boyfriend?)

Lifting the head of his cane high with both hands, he drops it into the street with a harsh impact, magic rippling outwards, over each of them. They each feel it, yet it's difficult to say what he did.

"By the ancient culinary arts have you been bound! And by this compulsion do I demand you answer me!"

What the heck is going on here?

"White... or Dark Meat. Your answer... Choose wisely!"

Uhhhhh, does he mean chicken? Everyone has to hope he means chicken. He's a Rumor of an old timey Southern Gentleman so, if it was innuendo, it'd be really weird right!?

</poem>
AS: Persona! Colonel Penguin has used the Strike skill Buttery Fresh Biscuits on Lisa Silverman!
AS: Charm results in party damage! Colonel Penguin takes 90 damage!
AS: Colonel Penguin spends Limit on Broad!
AS: Weapon! Colonel Penguin has used the Slash skill Leg Strike on Jun Kashihara and Umie Akabane!
| Pressure: Colonel Penguin gains 1 Limit!

AS: Persona! Colonel Penguin has used the Fire skill Zinger on Suzume Fukura! 2 Hits!
AS: Colonel Penguin spends Limit on Exploit! Colonel Penguin can use another Weak skill this round!
AS: Persona! Theurgy! Colonel Penguin has used the Fire skill Nashville HOT on Katsuko Yoshinaga!
AS: Weapon! Colonel Penguin has used the Slash skill Breast Strike on Shinobu Shimizu!
AS: Persona! Colonel Penguin has used the Fire skill Agi Deep Fryer on Kazusa Motojima!
AS: Persona! Colonel Penguin has used the Fire skill Honey Barbecued! on Shiryuu Ryouhara!
AS: Colonel Penguin spends Limit on Reach!
AS: Persona! Colonel Penguin has used the Almighty skill You Must Choose: White Or Dark on Isabeau Fontaine, Jun
Kashihara, Katsuko Yoshinaga, Kazusa Motojima, Lisa Silverman, Shinobu Shimizu, Shiryuu Ryouhara, Suzume Fukura, and
Umie Akabane!
AS: Avoid Best! Lisa Silverman takes 0 Strike damage from Colonel Penguin's Buttery Fresh Biscuits. Safety! Physical
damage reduced!
| Charm (Attacker or Ally takes Damage!) added!

AS: Avoid Neutral! Suzume Fukura takes 0 Fire damage from Colonel Penguin's Zinger. Critical Hit! Safety! Physical
damage reduced!
AS: Avoid Neutral! Lisa Silverman takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's You Must Choose: White Or Dark.
| Omen (Damage in 2 rounds!) added!

AS: Avoid Worst! Suzume Fukura takes 22 Fire damage from Colonel Penguin's Zinger. Safety! Physical damage reduced!
AS: Block Worst! Jun Kashihara takes 93 Slash damage from Colonel Penguin's Leg Strike.
AS: Block Worst! Suzume Fukura takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's You Must Choose: White Or Dark.
| Omen (Damage in 2 rounds!) added!

AS: Avoid Best! Kazusa Motojima takes 22 Fire damage from Colonel Penguin's Agi Deep Fryer.
AS: Avoid Worst! Kazusa Motojima takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's You Must Choose: White Or Dark.
| Omen (Damage in 2 rounds!) added!

AS: Avoid Neutral! Jun Kashihara takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's You Must Choose: White Or Dark.
| Omen (Damage in 2 rounds!) added!

AS: Avoid Neutral! Shinobu Shimizu takes 54 Slash damage from Colonel Penguin's Breast Strike.
AS: Avoid Best! Shinobu Shimizu takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's You Must Choose: White Or Dark.
| Omen (Damage in 2 rounds!) added!

AS: Avoid Best! Katsuko Yoshinaga takes 39 Fire damage from Colonel Penguin's Nashville HOT.
AS: Avoid Worst! Katsuko Yoshinaga takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's You Must Choose: White Or Dark.
| Omen (Damage in 2 rounds!) added!

AS: Counter Best! Umie Akabane takes 43 Slash damage from Colonel Penguin's Leg Strike. Critical Hit! Safety! Physical
damage reduced!
| COUNTER! Colonel Penguin takes 50 Slash damage in return for their attack!

AS: You have 1 more attack in queue!
AS: Avoid Worst! Umie Akabane takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's You Must Choose: White Or Dark.
| Omen (Damage in 2 rounds!) added!

AS: Block Best! Isabeau Fontaine takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's You Must Choose: White Or Dark.
| Omen (Damage in 2 rounds!) added!

<Pose Tracker> Lisa Silverman has posed.
<poem>
The power of friendship--and Jun's Persona--sees her less burned, refreshed, ready to fit again. When Jun blinks at her, she smiles briefly--but it's a tight smile. "Right!"

But Suzume is surprised, and, "I live here!" Lisa agrees with Suzume, "But it's better that you're here, too! Let's get him!"

She can rely on Suzume, anyway. "Yeah!" Lisa agrees then with Suzume and Isabeau both. "We can do whatever sports we want!"

Grim thanks her--and Lisa nods firmly. "Hey, go for it."

But she doesn't know her place? "Steak can be prepared in a TON of mature ways!" Lisa snaps back--and suddenly there is a bullet-fast biscuit. She ''darts'' to the side, and Eros rises up to deflect it with an arrow. "Besides, bread makes you fat!"

"I can cook," Lisa answers. "But not for ''you''."

Umie's gonna put him back in the river. That's great.

B-but the--

"What the hell?" Lisa asks. Magic ripples.... "The ancient what now?"

Then she scowls. "You think I'm going to pick white meat, don't you."

"Well--"

"I'm gonna make YOUR meat go dark!"

Suddenly Lisa brings out Eros again, and the two of them move in time. "Haaah--!"

Eros fires--and a gigantic hammerblow comes down in the form of a little black sphere.
</poem>

AS: Persona! Lisa Silverman has used the Strike skill Black Spot on Colonel Penguin!
AS: Charm results in party damage! Lisa Silverman takes 90 damage!
| Aggression: Lisa Silverman gains 1 Limit!

AS: Avoid Neutral! Colonel Penguin takes 148 Strike damage from Lisa Silverman's Black Spot.

<Pose Tracker> Jun Kashihara has posed.
<poem>
Jun waves back to Suzume. He doesn't know her thoughts, which may be about Lisa, but it ''is'' a shame to be forced into a supernatural battle when you just wanted to mind your own business and have a nice holiday. However, it would be even more of a shame to be one of those poor people in the crashed cars who can't do anything at all.

When it comes down to it, having experienced both, Jun would rather be a fighter than a victim.

He didn't recognize her at first, but the longer Isabeau and Jun are on the same battlefield, the more he realizes he's met her before--specifically, at the Eifuji Manor in Hirasaka. He double-takes at her, but if any new person he's met over the past year would turn out to be a Persona User, of ''course'' it would be a serious ghost hunter.

And, now that he's remembering ''that'', he realizes that the costumed Kazusa too was at that ill-fated trip. Coincidences upon coincidences... She doesn't come across as dismissive to him, at least, merely distracted, considering she's beating him to the punch when it comes to keeping everyone on their feet. They're ''all'' distracted right now.

He nods back to Shinobu and Umie in turn with a smile. "No need for thanks. We're all of one mind when it comes to this," he shoots a scathing glare at the Colonel, "''ruffian''."

Umie and Jun in particular will talk later, whether that's about her bad news or his.

With Kazusa handling the healing and Grim supporting her, and Jun's Dangerous Garula earlier having been particularly effective, he decides to switch back to the offensive. (No Water magic, so he can't take Suzume's suggestion, though.)

Before he can, though, the Colonel WHALLOPS him on the shin with his cane. Eros did ''not'' bestow his protective shield on him, so Jun ''gasps'' with pain and staggers, clutching his leg with grit teeth. Still, as much as it hurts, that's only that much more cause to bring the pain right back.

However, as he stands, favoring his uninjured leg, the Colonel demands an magically-enforced answer.

Jun is an excellent cook. He understands the question, and the right response, immediately.

"Dark meat," he answers with confidence and zero hesitation.

Let's hope the Colonel agrees!

At least Lisa does, in her own way. When she charges forward with Eros, Jun summons his Persona again. "And so you see the light. This--is divine punishment!" he declares. A godly wind ''blasts'' forward to potentially speed her and ''her'' Persona up and make their tandem attack that much more devastating. Even if it doesn't, it'll batter into the Colonel like the wrath of an ancient god.
</poem>

AS: Persona! Jun Kashihara has used the Wind skill Heavenly Cyclone on Colonel Penguin!
AS: Suzume Fukura spends Limit on Exploit! Suzume Fukura can use another Weak skill this round!

<Pose Tracker> Suzume Fukura has posed.
<poem>Suzume feels something she's gotten used to with her time at SEES, though it never quite gets normal: the feeling of other Persona users bolstering her.

"Thanks!" Suzume calls out, feeling energy surge through her from Isabeau, and then Kazusa taking advantage of it to give her a burst of energy, at about the same time a shield forms in front of her from Lisa and Shinobu comes up to fight at her side. That's a lot of help. And she's not going to complain!

She *is* going to complain about the Colonel though. "I can cook," she says, defiant, "but I figured you wouldn't actually want me to, given you have a *restaurant*. But that doesn't matter. Plenty of people like women's sports - and if you want a demonstration I can get back to kicking your butt!"

In this she's in agreement with Isabeau, and Lisa, and Shinobu. Why wouldn't she be?

The zinging chicken whips toward her. Suzume moves fast, almost blurring to one side, and the first part of the barrage misses; she brings up her tonfa to try to deflect the second half, and almost makes it, though a couple of the little shooting starlets sneak through and burst against the shield from Lisa, showering her mostly with fragments of flame rather than a direct hit.

"Ow, ow, hot," Suzume interrupts herself to beat out a little flame that is threatening to take hold on her sleeve. She looks right back up at the Colonel afterward, eyes narrowed: "Right. Back to kicking your butt! Atalanta!"

Atalanta reappears as Suzume pulls back one fist, spinning the other hand's metal tonfa to pick up speed. Faster and faster it blurs as green-white winds build upon it, and when she strikes forward, she's actually too far away to hit directly - but a veritable buzzsaw of air rockets from Suzume's whirling tonfa, cutting into the Colonel!

Suzume follows it up with a shining blow from her other hand, then another and another, as Atalanta's blessing on her weapons rises up and gives her the strength she needs.

"White!" Suzume says, immediately, without even thinking about it. "I'm gonna pick tebasaki every time! Wait, why am I even answering??"
</poem>

AS: Tandem! Suzume Fukura has used the Wind skill Wind Cutter on Colonel Penguin! 2 Hits!
| Suzume Fukura takes 90 damage from Panic!
| Pressure: Suzume Fukura gains 1 Limit!

AS: Tandem! Suzume Fukura has used the Light skill Holy Sword on Colonel Penguin! 3 Hits!
AS: Block Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 193 Wind damage from Jun Kashihara's Heavenly Cyclone. Weak!
| Rage (Weapon Attack and Incoming Damage Up!) added!

AS: Block Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 141 Wind damage from Suzume Fukura's Wind Cutter. Critical Hit! Weak!
| Blast (Magic and Block Penalized!) added!

AS: Block Best! Colonel Penguin takes 97 Wind damage from Suzume Fukura's Wind Cutter. Critical Hit! Weak!
AS: Block Best! Colonel Penguin takes 48 Light damage from Suzume Fukura's Holy Sword. Critical Hit!
AS: Block Neutral! Colonel Penguin takes 50 Light damage from Suzume Fukura's Holy Sword.
AS: Block Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 66 Light damage from Suzume Fukura's Holy Sword.
AS: Avoid Neutral! Shiryuu Ryouhara takes 46 Fire damage from Colonel Penguin's Honey Barbecued!. Critical Hit! Resist!
AS: Avoid Neutral! Shiryuu Ryouhara takes 0 Almighty damage from Colonel Penguin's You Must Choose: White Or Dark.
| Omen (Damage in 2 rounds!) added!

<Pose Tracker> Isabeau Fontaine has posed.
<poem>
"I do not want to hear your ''gossip!''" Isabeau snaps, to Kazusa. "Surely what they say is not so not like they say about ''me!''" But she should know, and she hesitates, a moment. "I... I will check on him when this is done!"

The ''other'' guy with trick weapons proceeds to talk like a weirdo, and Isabeau gives Shiryuu an odd look as she asks, "... is he real, or another Sumaru trick?"

Being fair: actual ninjas would totally be a Rumour Sumaru comes up with.

The ''worst'' trick, though, is this Colonel. "Excuse ''you!'' I have met an ''Olympian'' woman! ''My'' tennis skills are second to none! If you must know, as well, I ''am'' learning to cook!"

The chicken flies towards her --

-- and Isabeau stabs it with her knife.

"Can you really eat this...?" She wonders, and --

NOMPH

"It does not taste haunted," she remarks, thoughtfully. That's right, Jun: this IS the ghost hunter, Isabeau!! And as that geas falls over them, she hears Jun's answer...

... and gestures towards him, with her knife. "The fancy boy is right," she says, boldly. "Dark meat is best." And then, double-taking: "... euh? That is -- Jun? ''Mais oui! Allez!''" That's ''probably'' positive, even if one doesn't speak French.

"Inhuman creations will not bring down the human soul while I stand!" Isabeau insists, then, as Mielikki rises once more -- to sprinkle healing fairy dust over Suzume, Katsuko, Shiryuu, and Lisa.

The last one of which she double-takes at, too, because noticing Jun made her notice ''her.'' "A 'Siren' is here, too? What in the world..."

</poem>
AS: Persona! Isabeau Fontaine has used the Recovery skill Mediarama on Suzume Fukura, Katsuko Yoshinaga, Lisa Silverman,
and Shiryuu Ryouhara!
| Defense: Isabeau Fontaine gains 1 Limit!

AS: Take! Lisa Silverman takes 141 Recovery healing from Isabeau Fontaine's Mediarama.

<Pose Tracker> Shinobu Shimizu has posed.
<poem>Shinobu already disliked this guy. But hearing the way he talks about women...

Well. She's glad she already has a bludgeoning instrument on hand.

Who would pay to watch women in sports?

"I would. And I have." Shinobu comments, backing up Suzume's retort.

"You're stuck in the past, old man." Shinobu comments. "And we're gonna put you back there."

She nods back to Jun, then, offering him a grin.

"Well said." She agrees.

'Your majesty', the Colonel says, and Shinobu rolls her eyes.

"You're ''real'' funny." She says. "...Oh yeah? By who's counting?"

Her strikes land solidly - but so does his. Shinobu winces with a sharp hiss as the cane smacks her in the ribs, causing her to double back. ''That's'' going to leave a bruise...

The Colonel holds his cane up high and brings it down. She can feel the impace reverberate all around her - and ''through'' her. What did he just do...? And what's with that chant?

White or dark?

"Uh... We're talking chicken, right?" Shinobu asks. "I've always been more of a dark meat kinda girl, myself..."

The answer slips out. She doesn't know what it means that it does - but it might be a sign that they should hurry.

"Lachesis!" Shinobu calls out and her Persona appears behind her. She levels her staff, taking the Colonel's measure - and a pulse emanates outward. She seeks to stoke the fires of his rage, to cause him to act rashly, even as Lachesis makes him weaker.

And Shinobu gives him barely any time to realise what's happened as she rushes toward him, staff spinning violently!
</poem>

AS: Shinobu Shimizu spends Limit on Exploit! Shinobu Shimizu can use another Weak skill this round!
AS: Persona! Shinobu Shimizu has used the Almighty skill Goading Break on Colonel Penguin!
AS: Weapon! Shinobu Shimizu has used the Strike skill Spinning Staff on Colonel Penguin! 3 Hits!
| Aggression: Shinobu Shimizu gains 1 Limit!

AS: Take! Colonel Penguin takes 0 Almighty damage from Shinobu Shimizu's Goading Break.
| Phy_DN (Physical Attack/Defense Down!) added!

AS: Avoid Neutral! Colonel Penguin takes 91 Strike damage from Shinobu Shimizu's Spinning Staff. Critical Hit!
AS: Avoid Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 85 Strike damage from Shinobu Shimizu's Spinning Staff.
AS: Avoid Best! Colonel Penguin takes 39 Strike damage from Shinobu Shimizu's Spinning Staff.
AS: Take! Suzume Fukura takes 132 Recovery healing from Isabeau Fontaine's Mediarama.
AS: Take! Katsuko Yoshinaga takes 116 Recovery healing from Isabeau Fontaine's Mediarama.
AS: Take! Shiryuu Ryouhara takes 119 Recovery healing from Isabeau Fontaine's Mediarama.

<Pose Tracker> Katsuko Yoshinaga has posed.
<poem>Who indeed, Kazusa? Surely it was not Grim, who - in a voice eerily similar to the one that had addressed her from the shadows surrounding her - spoke as calmly as she could. Not entirely calmly, however, as the spices settled into her throat and left her feeling a little hoarse.
"Thanks. This one's tough... Be on your guard. he seems to take his substandard meals quite seriously." One would have thought she'd have laid off of the incessant insults by that point in time, but Grim simply could not help herself. It seemed to be a sore spot for him, and needling him about it was something she could not resist.

If he felt even half as bad as she did about losing the paints, it would be worth it.

On the hand, her taunting had worked. The Colonel's rage was palpable when he demanded retribution for an insult against his work, and Katsuko hoped that that meant his focus was shaken. On the other hand, her taunting had worked, and he was angry enough to launch a chunk of charring-hot chicken at her with no shortage of wrath behind in his voice. Katsuko, quite eager to not be the subject of yet more heat-based harm, threw herself out of the way with all due haste. Her quick thinking worked. Mostly. The brunt of the damage from that meteoric mass of meat missed its mark, but the flavourful flames still singed her enough to sizzle.

"Hot? Please. your work is lukewarm at best! Your recipe has been butchered worse than your chickens! And worst of all..." She narrowed her gaze at the military man turned poultry peddler, and jabbed her finger at him as if to spear him through the heart. "Your portions are not nearly generous enough to warrant the price you charge!" Her normally flat voice wavered a little, but not in fear. It was in annoyance. Not anger, not frustration, but the same kind of voice someone might have used upon finding that the price of their favourite burger had gone up yet again.

The flames had not stopped her in her tracks. What had managed to do that was the colonel's poorly-phrased ultimatum. At least, she hoped it was just poor phrasing. To imagine it as anything else left her lips curling beneath the mask in slight revulsion, and the thought was unceremoniously cast from her mind before it distracted her further. He'd cast a spell of some sort, and she needed to do something to address it. Addressing him was a personal matter though, and she was not compelled to do it by any supernatural means.

Just outright pride.

"It matters not what meat you choose to serve me or others. Your work shall always fail to meet the mark." Katsuko said, holding her rifle at the ready and aiming square for his face. Then lower, towards his mouth. Then yet lower, aiming until she could land her crosshairs on the very top of his throat. The fact that his beard - that stupid little plastic lump, wiggling around as if to taunt her with how ridiculous it looked when freshly dredged from the depths - was in its way and stood no small chance of being shot through was irrelevant. Probably.

With the shot made, Grim retreated back to cover again, and was glad for it. Not to avoid any attacks, but to hide any potential shame she might have felt at being healed by someone she had, to put it mildly, not been kind to recently. She was, however, still close enough to be within earshot of Isabeau, and spoke loud enough that she was certain she could be heard.
"Thanks for the assist." She spoke, the only sign of her a glint of silver in the dark. "...And if I may offer advice? You're better than this, and you can do better than *that.*"

Her head was turned towards the chunk of chicken she'd eaten. That, surely, was what she was talking about. She was surely displaying displeasure over Isabeau eating supernatural chicken, and had not been struck with a pang of unwanted guilt over her actions.
</poem>

AS: Weapon! Katsuko Yoshinaga has used the Pierce skill Skullsplitter on Colonel Penguin!

<Pose Tracker> Kazusa Motojima has posed.
<poem>
Kazusa isn't doing too much better, so she gives Umie a brief nod.

The Colonel is saying a lot of things to the other girls that Kazusa is still happy to take plenty of offense from. "Ugh. All the talk of 'refinement' and what girls are or aren't allowed to do make you sound like my father. And I don't need more of ''him''." She locks eyes with the Colonel. "''I'm'' going to work with computers."

Okay so she is in one of the only 'acceptable' sport for a girl, but she also hates it.

"Enough with the chicken puns, we get it." Heat rises up around her, and rather than doing the cooler thing and backflipping out of the way, she draws her cloak around herself as she darts back, to protect herself from the worst of the flames.

She blinks as... something happens, glancing around warily. "What was that-- what did you ''do''?" He presents an ultimatum, and Kazusa, never one to take the ''easey'' way out, huffs and folds her arms. "Neither. Not if it's coming from ''you''." She ''can'' cook, but... she hates doing it. Especially for others.

Kazusa has to do a double take at Jun, and it's only a moment later that she remembers that trip. (Which, to be fair, was dominated in her mind by the realization that there ws, in fact, a real ghost there.) "Oh. You were there at that mansion, right?"

Suzume likewise gets a distracted nod as she calls out her thanks.

But she scowls at Isabeau as she denies the aid of gossip. "You know the girls just warn each other about things sometimes, right?" There is a pause of self-reflection. "I mean-- okay, so ''most'' of the rumors at Shujin are gross, but seriously so's Fujihide. He's probably just using you to get something he wants. He's in my class, you know."

Isabeau will, in fact, go check on him, and Kazusa feels mixed about that.

I mean, it's ''probably'' a good thing to make sure someone without supernatural powers didn't get injured by the supernatural... but on the other hand, well.

She glances around as Grim speaks, huffing quietly. "Enough with the creepy shadow act, whoever you are. Don't come crying to me if I can't figure out where you are so I can heal you."

But she refocuses her attention on the Colonel soon enough. "Alright, you--" From within her cloak Kazusa points. "Mina Harker! Use Kouga!!"

Mina raisse her healthy right hand, and a bolt of light streams down from the sky to blast the Colonel. Maybe, if the effects of the Grasping Eiha are still lingering...!
</poem>

AS: Persona! Kazusa Motojima has used the Light skill Kouga on Colonel Penguin!
AS: Block Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 179 Pierce damage from Katsuko Yoshinaga's Skullsplitter.
AS: Block Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 155 Light damage from Kazusa Motojima's Kouga.
| Haze (Physical and Block Penalized!) added! Bind removed! Explosion! 30 damage!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'We're all of one mind when it comes to this ''ruffian''.'

"That's it," Umie encourages with a blackbird smile. "Let's--"

Before she's able to encourage Jun to violence, the Colonel comes up directly to her and, standing like a white pillar, does a violence to *her*.

Being kicked in the shins somehow doesn't hurt as much as seeing him go after Shiryuu, however, tempting him with sweet words of Honey Barbecue Chicken.

'Ah, look, your boyfriend's being stolen again...'

It doesn't matter if it's the memory of clasped fingers and flashes of bare, unmarked wrists from her high school days, or the frankly ridiculous connotation that a statue of an American southern colonal in white is trying to seduce her boyfriend with offers of chicken; Mai-chan's words draw blood all the same.

With a flash of anger in her eyes, jealousy seizes hold of Umie's chest.

White or dark? Umie can answer that, as a bifurcated blade falls into her hand from the fashionably oversized sleeves of her winter jacket. (Who carries a weapon on a date? Umie didn't, but then, things happened.)

"White."

She's also not here, suddenly. It happened at some point when the Colonel was looking away, which, with this many opponents, is a very easy thing to do.

Where is Umie? The first sign of her new position is a pressure of someone right at the back of the tall colonel's head, as Umie descends down like a very vengeful little falcon, shoge aimed for the nape of his neck.

"As in, your head!" Umie hisses at the back of his head, if she's able.

It's fine. This is a rumor demon! She can be violent.
</poem>

AS: Tandem! Umie Akabane has used the Dark skill Seeker in the Dark on Colonel Penguin!
| Ruin: Umie Akabane gains 1 Limit!

AS: Block Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 222 Dark damage from Umie Akabane's Seeker in the Dark. Critical Hit! Weak!

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>%r
At some level, Ryouhara understands the Colonel's plight. Apparently, there was some sort of grudge handed down through the ages. It's something he can empathize with, but not at the expense of the people. Or rather, not at this type of expense.

Even worse, the Colonel seems to have a very ko-ryu way about him.
"...that's not a responsible thing to think."

He's surrounded in very capable senshi, it's not a tactically sound plan to insult them all at once. There does seem to be a lot of awfully nicely-dressed people here, Shiryuu reflects, as he gets in range. Even before the supralunar power shifted their appearances, he realizes belatedly -- even the bystanders. The girl who was over by the tree who just had the ninkou-style spear...the girl in the nice white coat... the other one with the red trimmed dress that just... listen. Is everyone on a date?

(The fact that Isabeau was wearing a _sporty_ outfit first, and a ghost hunter's attire second does not register to Shiryuu over the fact that she has a spear that transforms into a knife. Perfect date attire, obviously.)

(This is also why Shiryuu is on a date with Umie, who is also armed. He is absolutely not responsible for her also being armed on a date.)

...and why is everyone so filthy?

".... Umie eats plenty of bread and she's extremely fine..." he wonders absently under his breath, almost losing his train of thought. Nope. Absolutely he's distracted, tucking the speared chicken cutlet (still pinned on his kunai) in a safe place for now.

No time to think about it.
Speaking of.

Shiryuu is closing within melee range of the Colonel when he turns his attention back to him -- shit. Shiryuu looks up with a flat expression, the little chimes on his hat making a pretty noise with the movement.

"...an enemy whose skills are not worth respecting is not worth fighting," Shiryuu says, pulling the length of wire and blades from his sleeve. He scents the decadent sweetness of honey barbecue, right before he's swallowed up by a powerful storm of what are obviously enchanted suzume-bachi. For awhile, he is roasted. "---!!"
"Light or dark, is it..."
His seething voice is inside the fire.

"....my answer will be written.. at your memorial."

-- and then Shiryuu cuts every single one of the candleflames in half with his wireblade. The lash of Juurishojin takes up the slack where that powerful shield no longer does, the cut of the blade scattering flame into sparkles everywhere, leaving Shiryuu surrounded in a fine aura of coruscating fire and steel.

(It's what happens when you're covered in fairy dust.)

The electric beat mounts, surrounding Shiryuu as he dashes, leaving a glittering (omg) trail of power (decorative) behind him as he rushes the last few critical feet to the Colonel. The massive length of Juurishojin, the wire whip sectional blade, cuts throught he space betwen them as he tries to cross into and through the enemy commander's space, to loop his blade around him and bring him down into better punching range, launching off the ground into a three-piece axe kick. From there, the onna may be able to subdue the commander long enough to get him wrangled back into the river where he belongs. Or beat him to within an inch of his delicious life.

Seriously, there are more than a few girls trying to pummel the colonel brutally for what he said, the onmitsu thinks.

Fearsome.
</poem>

AS: Shiryuu Ryouhara spends Limit on Psych!
AS: Shiryuu Ryouhara spends Limit on Exploit! Shiryuu Ryouhara can use another Weak skill this round!
AS: Weapon! Shiryuu Ryouhara has used the Slash skill Juurishojin on Colonel Penguin! 2 Hits!
| Aggression: Shiryuu Ryouhara gains 1 Limit!

AS: Weapon! Shiryuu Ryouhara has used the Strike skill Ryouhara Ninjutsu on Colonel Penguin! 3 Hits!
AS: Block Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 57 Slash damage from Shiryuu Ryouhara's Juurishojin.
AS: Block Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 57 Slash damage from Shiryuu Ryouhara's Juurishojin.
AS: Block Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 114 Strike damage from Shiryuu Ryouhara's Ryouhara Ninjutsu. Critical Hit!
| Colonel Penguin is unable to continue fighting!

AS: Block Worst! Colonel Penguin takes 114 Strike damage from Shiryuu Ryouhara's Ryouhara Ninjutsu. Critical Hit!
| Colonel Penguin is unable to continue fighting!

AS: Block Neutral! Colonel Penguin takes 60 Strike damage from Shiryuu Ryouhara's Ryouhara Ninjutsu.
| Colonel Penguin is unable to continue fighting!

<Pose Tracker> Colonel Penguin has posed.
<poem>
"What a waste of your pocket book money. Does your husband know you're squandering his wealth?" The Colonel asks Shinobu, seeming oblivious of the fact that- look. It was a different time.

The Colonel does not answer Lisa, the waterworn plastic eye sockets simply staring at her.

The hammerblow falls, the Colonel steps aside, but the impact still staggers him. Right as the divine winds of Argeiphontes crash into him, buffeting him aside. He says nothing of their answers... quite yet. Even as Suzume comes at him, the look in those plastic eyes eerie, as if he were judging the way she responded.

Her windborn attack smashes into him, skidding his hollow body across the street heavily, with hollow thud thud of impact, even before the Blessed Weapons carve into him with all consuming holy light.

"What do you think we're discussing, your Majesty?" The Colonel asks Shinobu, perhaps only reinforcing her earlier perception, but he does not answer her question otherwise, save with a question. He deserves the blows he takes that follows.

An intensity follows within Katsuko's blunt blow that snaps off part of his plastic glasses as he mutters, "Nnngh-!"

It is true, the Chicken doesn't taste haunted Isabeau, and in this space, it is likely zero calories! Probably. That's a good thing to tell yourself.

It's then, that Umie descends, targeting his neck, chunking off part of the plastic.

Shiryuu then gives his answer.

"Four of you... chose... poorly."

A sickening feeling suddenly erupts in the gut of Lisa, Katsuko, Kazusa and Shiryuu, an all consuming, gnawing illness that saps the energy right out of them. It's like having a stomach bug for days. It wrenches them from the inside out.

It would seem the only wrong answer, is refusing to answer one of the choices allowed, or refusing to give an honest answer.

Despite that though, it does not stop Shiryuu, as the Onmitsu dashes a glittering, decorative trail, containing the spirit(??) of Christmas(???) which is apparently spending time with your significant other, feeling that kokoro, being a good consumer in your ardently capitalist system.

It is, very romantic, as his blade loops down, catching the Colonel, then kicks him repeatedly. And it is the result of one of those kicks, that the worn away genteel look of the man, is wiped away when he's decapitated.

Sent flying, as his head spews dark mist, of obviously cursed energy.

"Mark my words... one day... ah will return! Justice will be mine!"

The statue goes insensate, the feeling of Joka disappears from the entirety of Sumaru City. Still, someone may want to put sealing talismans all over this thing and throw it in the river- just saying, the worst possible thing would be for someone to accidentally unseal it from a storage room in one's local high school.

Christmas is saved! From a malevolent rumor of a Western Chicken Chain's founder that had a highly successful advertising campaign decades ago and defined the meaning of the holiday in Japan.

... What an unusual holiday.

But where then, did this rumor come from?

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
~*Two Days Ago*~

"I don't take kindly to mockery!" Masayoshi Shido shouted on the phone at his subordinate, SIU Director Mouri. "Call ''him''. I want this taken care of immediately ."

The SIU Director seemed flabbergasted, "But, we can't have the Colonel killed. He's overseeing the integration of the X-1 project. It could potentially interfere with the rollout. And the timing everyone will know, Sir."

"Useless! Was I asking for him to be ''killed''? A fool such as Toriyabe needs to be taught a lesson about biting the hand that feeds them."

"Yes Sir but, then why go so far as to get him involved?"

"He can earn his keep with some creative problem solving." Masayoshi Shido growled at Mouri, who hastily said, "I'll call him right away."

-=-=-

~*December 24th - Almost Christmas*~

While getting ready for his first date with Ren Amamiya, Goro Akechi was also reviewing bank records.

"Hmm... How very interesting. Consistent withdrawals for months. And this pattern of transactions, it would seem the good Colonel has a Mistress he intends to spend Christmas with." Goro Akechi smirked at the idea, wondering who it was, "I could ask his Shadow directly, but where's the fun in that?"

That night, on Christmas Eve, an anonymous poster speculated a link between the Curse of the Colonel and Christmas Chicken, that on this night, he might just return. It was posted automatically on a timer, long after the date had begun.

-=-=-

~*Christmas Day - Elsewhere*~

A young woman in lingerie kept glancing at her phone in boredom, before glancing back towards the other man with her.

"How's it going?"

"This- never happens." Colonel Toriyabe growled in frustration.

"Want me to stick around, just in case?"

"What do you think I want you dumb bitch!?"

Her eyes narrowed, as she got up, pulling her coat off a rack, as she buttoned it and grabbed her purse.

"... To get it up." She said as she fluffed her hair out and grabbed her purse, "But, sounds like you're not man enough to manage even that much, Colonel."

"OUT! OUT DAMNIT!" He threw a whole bottle of pills that crashed against the wall, as she left out the door, shouting, "Merry Christmas- Asshole!"

It was only later that he found out about the rumor of the Colonel, the curse. He'll never be able to prove that his offense caused it- but he didn't have to, the message was received loud and clear what happens when you mess with the Golden Lion to try and score points with his commanding officer.

</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Jun Kashihara has posed.
<poem>
Though he hasn't been in a position to remark on it, it honestly takes Jun aback that there are people ''actually eating'' the Colonel's attacks. It doesn't get any less weird the more it happens, especially when Isabeau does so and declares it Probably Not Haunted.

Even more weird is that she remembers his name! She'd been ''extremely'' serious about the ghost hunt and he had... nnnnot, even if he'd still played along, so he wouldn't have expected that. By the time he ''did'' start taking it seriously, he was a little busy being re-traumatized.

"''Je suis surpris que vous souvenez-vous de mon nom''," he calls back to Isabeau in well-accented if overly formal French, the latter of which may be unsurprising from a generally polite Japanese youth. "''Vous vous appelez... Isabeau Fontaine, n'est-ce pas?''"

(Look, he doesn't get a chance to practice his conversational French that often. Opportunities must be seized, no matter how otherwise ill-timed they are. If he were the type to let them pass him by, he wouldn't have run out here in search of Tatsuya in the first place.)

Kazusa recognizes him too once Isabeau addresses him, and he nods back to her, brushing whatever remains of the snow from his face. He can only be thankful that this is a bad moment for ''everyone''. "Yes, I was. I was just thinking what a coincidence it was."

Jun grins back to Shinobu. "You as well," he replies. He gestures elegantly towards the Colonel. "Shall we take this antiquity to his final resting place?" He plucks the briar rose he carries as his weapon from his coat and brings it to his lips in a dangerously sultry smile. "I'll bring the flowers for his grave."

Don't worry, Umie. With or without you, Jun can be coaxed to violence. He really just needs the proper motivation and an appropriate outlet. A Rumor Demon will do--especially one who's hurting his friends. Fortunately, Umie immediately proves she can handle herself... to say nothing of Shiryuu's vicious follow-up. Jun hurries over to Lisa's side when she's struck down by that sickening feeling, then narrows his eyes at the decapitated statue with a disdainful look.

"On second thought, I shan't bother. Laying flowers on plastic would be so... tacky."

He'll spend his time helping Lisa get to a bathroom instead... Someone else will have to re-lay those wards.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Suzume Fukura has posed.
<poem>Suzume looks incredulously at Isabeau when she voluntarily eats some of the chicken. Gross, she thinks to herself; it shows on her face.

Like, the healing was good, but the chicken? "Bet it's cursed even if it isn't haunted," Suzume says.

She knows she's being judged by the Colonel, though she has no idea which way he's going to decide. She'd like to try to take him down before then, and she raises her tonfa again - but doesn't need to lower it as the statue falls still. Plus, you know. Headless.

"I'm gonna go dump it back in the river," Suzume says, firmly. "He deserves it. Anyone want to give me a hand?" She doesn't cheer for the Sumaru Demons, remember? They can stay cursed for all she cares! But first...

Suzume pulls out her phone and sends some quick texts.

> you missed some excitement
> also we're not getting chicken now

Suzume shoves it back in her pocket afterwards, looking somewhere between satisfied and irritated. Satisfied with how it turned out, but for the rest of it...

Well, she'll *remember* this Christmas. But she might be happier if it wasn't so memorable!
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Katsuko Yoshinaga has posed.
<poem>Normally, Grim would have liked to make a quick and dignified exit. A swish of her coat and some pithy one-liner, a subtle slink back into the shadows, or simply vanishing from sight while everyone's backs were turned. The Colonel put paid to any notion of that. Throwing a hand up to her mask, Grim staggered over to a nearby wall and held her hand against it for support, heaving and lurching in a manner most unusual for someone as cold and unyielding as her.
"Urf... Knew his chicken was bad... Didn't think it was this bad..." She hissed, before dragging herself away.

Grim still managed her vanishing act, but it was said that if one listened closely, a retching noise could be heard some ways down the river.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shinobu Shimizu has posed.
<poem>'Husband'. Shinobu stops in her tracks - and responds to that with sputtering laughter. She isn't about to elaborate to him on ''why'' that's so funny, though.

It ''does'' remind her of her failed date, though, which just gives her more encouragement to hit him.

"Hey, I make my ''own'' money. I don't need some man to dictate my spending habits." Shinobu replies. She pauses at his next response - and chooses to answer with her staff.

She looks toward Jun, then, and grins.

"Let's." She agrees.

And soon enough... the Colonel loses his head.

"Fine, fine. Come back any time, but it won't change the outcome. These beatings are all you can eat, old man." Shinobu replies, twirling her staff before resting it on her shoulders.

She looks toward Suzume as she asks if anyone wants to give her a hand dumping the statue back into the river.

"After all that? Definitely." Shinobu agrees.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Isabeau Fontaine has posed.
<poem> "''Mais oui!''" Isabeau actually ''smiles,'' to Jun. "''Isabeau Fontaine! Votre accent est bon,''" she adds, complimenting his accent. "''Venez à Kagurazaka, on parle souvent français!''" ... or, in other words, he should go visit Kagurazaka to practice his French further.

Seeing Suzume's expression, she defends herself: "I was not about to let that strange ninja man be the only one to do it."

Grim and Kazusa each have warnings, for Isabeau. "M...mind your own business!" She snaps, to the former -- who, with Katsuko's disguise, Isabeau doesn't even ''recoginse.'' "What do you know?! Do not barge in with such a creepy way!"

''Kazusa,'' at least, she can place in her mind. "He is ''nice'' to me," Isabeau scowls, to her. "He does not take me on a date only to ''mock'' me, like some boys."

Still -- they're gripped by that curse, and Isabeau snaps, despite her resistance: "Release them!"

Luckily, before she has to use force, that ''ninja'' does it for her.

"... so, into the river, is it?" Isabeau asks, as she steps forward. "Let us go."

She's pretty strong for a big girl, as it happens.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>
Four of them chose... poorly.

In the rush of the kill(?), it doesn't really settle on Umie what the Colonel meant until she nimbly lands on her feet, tucking her blade back into her coat sleeves as the man in white is rightfully decapitated.

"That rose is better given to someone who deserves it," she quips back to Jun, mischief in her smile. "There's still some hours left."

They saved Christmas, after all. Surely, that counts for something?

"But... more seriously, I can't feel its curse anymore," she says, glancing about the ruined streets and confused civilians. "But the field the entity created will likely dissipate soon because of that, so--"

This was for the likes of people like Katsuko and Kazusa, but... that's when she notices the truth of the Colonel's wording. Jun is tending to Lisa, and Grim and Kazusa are affected, so...

She makes a mental note of of Suzume and Shinobu, but neither of them seem to be ill, and Shiryuu seemed to be just fine cutting the statue down. Isabeau, also, seems.... okay?

Clearly, it should be her that's been cursed, but maybe another curse must have pushed it off.

"Sure, I can help," Umie says, when Suzume asks. "It's not like he'll politely walk himself back in." She rubs her neck, looking about the smokey city. "So this is what a Christmas date is like...."

NO UMIE IT IS NOT AND YOU KNOW THIS

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Kazusa Motojima has posed.
<poem>
Kazusa nods to Jun. "Yeah... seems like... there's a lot of those..." she admits with a concerned frown. "... that thing was real, wasn't it?" She's ''still'' grappling with that one.

"I'm telling you," snaps Kazusa. "He's only pretending to be nice! If you'd just listen for a moment--"

Unfortunately, that's the Colonol's last curse hits her, and as her stomach churns Kazusa groans and doubles over, clutching her stomach. "Ugggh... Patra!"

Patra, unfortuantely, does nothing, after Mina casts it.

It's ''so'' unfair. She has to be ''so careful'' what shee eats so she doesn't put too much weight on. Fried chicken is definitely something her father would disapprove of.

Why is she being punished for not wanting to eat it???

Her face is turning green, though. "... I need a bathroom..."

Hopefully, someone can provide her directions.

She might be late picking up her battery.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

Even with an intimate view into the inner works of the world underneath, Shiryuu could not have at all considered the cause of what would have created the rebel commander and his brutal poultry attacks.

Of course, it didn't really matter, for the purposes of the boy in the charmed knit cap. One's charge is to soldier on.

Soldier--

...soldier... "...URP~~"

Were the enemy rations poisoned?! Impossible. No cooking of that level could have turned against him, and furthermore, Shiryuu's constitution is such that most poisons will simply be ineffective. Or at least, that's what he insists. It's actually just a situation of mind over matter, as Shiryuu pushes through the wave of brutal nausea and pain to launch himself off the ground.

The practical upshot of it is that Ryouhara is done playing, and his axe kick rolls into a second hit, and then he twists into a full on spinning drill kick and --

"... to betray my tastes like this," Shiryuu labors under the curse. "in the depths of your hatred, you've betrayed only your own principles!!"

Shiryuu won't have it, as he spinkicks through the Colonel.

The Colonel's fate is sealed as the head rolls off, with the boy's wire coiled tightly around him. Shiryuu lands nimbly, with the flash of Juurishojin flicking back into his wrist in the wake of the demon dissipating, with the high pitched whine of the ninkou's winders pulling the wires securing the blade tight again to his wrist. In an instant, it's like he's not armed at all.

Well, after he tugs a bit of his sleeve down to cover where the last section of the blade hung at the cloth at his wrist.

He straightens, finally reaching behind him. "No," the boy in the bookish kind of hat says to Jun, to Katsuko. "The enemy may have lost his way, but his chicken was top notch," he ays. He proves it, by producing and setting the chicken cutlet down on a piece of paper, drawing a little sealing array around it, and then chanting something, making a few hand symbols before tying it shut.

He stands. Umie's already decided to help push the statue back in the river, and so Shiryuu's honor bound to comply. He holds up a hand. "Stay strong," he tells Kazusa. "The enemy's curse can be withstood, with an iron constitution." He sounds fairly knowledgeable about it, despite being the absolute last person to be able to comm...

"....urp--!.."
[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-08-16: Christmas for Two

2026-08-27T23:37:49Z

Tanyuu: Created page with "*'''Log: Christmas for Two''' *'''Cast:''' Shiryuu Ryouhara, Umie Akabane *'''Where:''' Yumezaki Ward, Shibuya *'''OOC Date:''' August 16, 2026 *'''IC Date:''' December 26, 2012 *'''Summary''': ''After the heroes' victory over the white-clad Colonel of fried chicken, Shiryuu steals away a sneezing Umie to the Prince Hotel. Turns out, that was just from the eleven herbs and spices, as the night gets spicy in other ways: panicked text messages, a shirtless Shiryuu,..."

*'''Log: Christmas for Two'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Shiryuu Ryouhara]], [[Umie Akabane]]
*'''Where:''' Yumezaki Ward, Shibuya
*'''OOC Date:''' August 16, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 26, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''After the heroes' victory over the white-clad Colonel of fried chicken, Shiryuu steals away a sneezing Umie to the Prince Hotel. Turns out, that was just from the eleven herbs and spices, as the night gets spicy in other ways: panicked text messages, a shirtless Shiryuu, someone getting kneed in a sensitive place, a family member barging in, and, most importantly, a Christmas miracle.''

----

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> The penalty for sneezing too much around the Ryouhara Shihaisha was steep.

In all truth, it was (probably) true that Akabane had suffered an irritant reaction to spice -- Shiryuu, who had trained for years under "Lightning" Kiyoto to resist poisons and blinding powders, had no concept of the idea that anyone could have such a reaction to excellent cooking alone. Even his own stomach rebelling could not possibly had been the chicken he ate. Years of training, he insisted. URP...

Nope. Shiryuu is too stubborn to just take care of it in a bush or something. More importantly, his girlfriend is about to succumb to the elements.

(Nevermind that most of the fight they were all on varying flavors ((literally)) of 'on fire' and thus, Umie's earlier plight had been given plenty of opportunity to dry. To be honest, Shiryuu hasn't at all noticed how filthy she got -- everyone else was much filthier, in his opinion)

One ill timed sneeze is enough.

And so the onmitsu is back on the jog, having picked up Akabane and slung her across his back again. Interestingly, he moves a lot faster when he's not carrying ten bags as well as Umie, and so making the trip back to the Indigo was not anywhere near as much a problem.

Other than the fact that he's about to vomit the whole way.

"Iih-- I'm not sick too!" Shiryuu objects, while waiting for a traffic light to change for no real reason. "I'm too invincible to do anything like th--urp.."
And the arguing. So much arguing.
(To be fair, Shiryuu is focused on not dying and achieving the mission, protests be damned. Maybe not so much arguing from him.)

This mission in this case is the lofty suite at the Prince -- rather, the Sumaru hotel that Shiryuu booked in a panic a few weeks ago, whose concierge couldn't stop making insinuations about the day after they had the maids shotgun it with rose petals. Shiryuu was no less scandalized being reminded about it than he was the first time encountering it directly. At any rate, the room at the Hotel Indigo was his place in Shibuya, and now that Shiryuu actually has had an opportunity to clean things up, the Prince is starting to resemble it, with the same ruthless hand disposing of most of the wall hangings and extraneous furniture, and -absolutely- 99% of the rose petals. It wouldn't be untoward to start getting them mixed up at this rate.

One has his laptop. The other has a wardrobe with a box of chocolate on top of it. The third has SAMURAI! Kenjiro. All three seem to have some kind of neon lamp and mysterious mechanical crate in them, differing only in size. Sometimes the laptop moves between the three. It is the same laptop.

Now the purpose of the crate can be seen. Shiryuu wastes very little time in pulling the case out from under the bed, this one being noticeably slimmer than a footlocker. He uses an honest-to-god ninjutsu to get the locks to release (seriously? it has to be a ritual. it's not even a supernatural space..) and then opens the case with a hiss, sending a bit of petty cash flying as he goes through bottles and bags, most of them curiously chilled. ???

A lined Ryouhara samue is thrown onto the bed, next to the long towels. "Off," Shiryuu says, stiffly, before shutting and resealing the case. He will -eventually- make it to the bathroom. To draw the bath for her. And then promptly die on the bed.

There lies poor invincible Shiryuu, succumbed to his ordeals.

Maybe eventually he'll exorcise himself. Ah, that was like an hour or two ago at least, wasn't it? Shiryuu's definitely 'died' at least twice by then. ("NO. I DIDN'T. I WAS WASHING MY FACE. THERE WAS SMOG.")

He's just laying down because he's trying to keep a persistent state of shinobi readiness, in case the enemy commander has sleeper cells throughout the city.

That coffeecat shop they passed by looked suspicious. It feels like he's forgetting something, isn't it?

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "*achoo*--"

No sooner did Umie sneeze one more time after properly disposing of the Colonel did she find herself kidnapped yet again, slung across Shiryuu's shoulders as he disappeared into the city.

WIth how Sumaru City became an absolute unlucky mess, it's probably not even near the top ten weirdest things any of the civilians have seen, especially since Umie is quick to wave away any offers of 'assistance' to get away from her kidnapper. "It's fine. He's mine."

Yes, the choice of words is intentional. "I can hike there too; I'm not going to get your sick on me because you're too stubborn to slow down!"
'I'm too invincible to do anything like th--urp..' "That was Joka curse energy!" (She *could* use the word 'kegare', but she's not sure yet if her senses are counting it the same because it *is* the same, or because she can't tell the difference.)

As their route becomes clear, Umie's heart rate begins to race. I-is he...? Maybe, now that he knows the Prince can have a service like that, maybe he's going to surprise her with it properly, and.... and...

----

".... You got rid of everything." Umie frowns as Shiryuu lets her down. "If you're going to get rid of all the furnishings... doesn't it defeat the purpose of a place like the Prince?"

Then again, the Indigo was like that too, and now, this room shares the same strange crate as it did, strange locks and all.

It's a lockbox. _It's a lockbox_. "I guess using a key would be too extra for a Ryouhara..." she murmurs wryly.

Did he seriously use hand signals to open it?!

There's also the neon lamp. ... Maybe he just fights neon light comforting, Umie assumes, before her attention is drawn back to the _cash flying out_ as he goes through some curiously chilled looking bottles and bags. "... You're literally throwing money around."

See, when she finds a yen in her couch cushion, she calls it *lucky*.

Plop goes the pair of samue. 'Off', he says.

She smiles sharply. "... So forceful... you want to see me undress already--" No, he's already stiffly wandering off to draw a bath.

Her expression softens. He's obviously feeling sick, and yet, he's worried about her.

Undressing and putting on the samue, Umie pinches the lined fabric between two fingers, waiting for Shiryuu to exit before taking the towels with her. Her cableknit sweater, coat, shoes, and pants are folded and laid on another surface next to a box wrapped in colorful furoshiki cloth, leaving the bed mysteriously open.

She'll even take her time bathing, quietly taking in the luxurious tub and indulging in some of the complimentary condiments there, if Shiryuu hasn't gotten rid of them already.

----

The bed shifts as the newly cleaned and dressed Umie sits at the edge, doing her towel-dried hair up into two loose buns. She doesn't say anything, just letting Shiryuu rest there.

She has to, eventually, however.

"How are you feeling? You want me to get you something?" She reaches out to gently pass her fingertips into his hair with a gentle affection. "Some water, maybe?"

If he allows it, she'll continue gently stroking his head as he lays there, red fingernails peeking from silver hairs.

"I meant what I said, earlier... It was Joka-based. I could sense it," she says, quietly. "I've been able to sense that, lately. Just like the kegare from your eye."

She breathes, her eyes cast on Shiryuu's prone back. "I guess it's because I'm bad luck," she jokes. "Having a date on Christmas... the world needed to balance that all out."

She's smiling; she doesn't truly believe it.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> "..........ugh..."

The sound is small, soft and wan. Shiryuu must have dozed off for a little while. It's to be expected -- running across Sumaru (twice) would be a crippling feat for others -- now wanting to be face-down and buried in the grave is the least that he can ask of tender fate. Just let him die, it'll be fine if it's just at this moment. He watched an anime once that had good, peaceful music that he could expire to.

He is, in fact, dimly aware of some of the disagreements that passed over the last few hours. ('You want to see me undress already--' "urrh! -- 'bane don't be a rascal when your life is on the line," promptly marches off)

It is very likely that she saved a few lives along the way because there is certainly enough gas in his tank for another axe kick if a bystander even had the slightest inkling to be in his way. That didn't keep him from stopping dead in the middle of the crosswalk in the street when he realized she declared him as hers. ("Wait, what? You -- d, don't just say it so boldly --" *HONK* "--hey!! for the--'IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2012'!! go around! --glkk--")

And truthfully, despite ("It's the latest in security technology, inspired by our ancient ninkou manual, Umie! It's not extra!") his intention to argue with her on every possible battlefield ("It's fine, this is more important than a few dollars--") there are a few glaring comments which go simply unanswered.

Interestingly, as she bathes she'll notice that he doesn't seem to have anything against amenities, or items that have some clearly useful purpose, so the mints have fully taken over the bathroom by the time Umie gets to it. It's really only the expressive items -- the tasteful bits of art and ornaments and visual interest -- that he seems to have such antipathy towards.

Everything else is fine. He's used half the napkins already. The bag in the wastebasket has been mysteriously tied and the whole thing has been moved to the door.

Despite still desperately wanting to be asleep, Shiryuu is at least nascently awake against his wishes by the time Umie makes her way back. The imposition of her soft weight compels him to shift -- only coincidentally slightly closer to her, or at least as far as he can get. (It's not very far.)

"Mnrrnmm. That feels...good.."

Shiryuu, for once, is not at all in a position to put a stop to Umie being nice and stroking his head, sending little tingles down his spine. He may as well be paralyzed, one arm dangling helplessly off the bedside. "... it's fine," he insists.

"'m...invincible." pause. "maybe... toothbrush. In a lil bit."

A pause, as the boy's eyes sliver open. One is brown, the other is bright blue. Not that it's relevant, beneath the mop of grey hair sprayed over the pillow. "..H..hey. What about you...?" he asks, dimly.

"Do we need to turn the heat up? .... that's a girl thing.. right? Don't get sick...mnnnff."

Well, he ran out of words for a minute. It gives her some time.
...?

"The enemy commander was born under the thirteenth dragon...?" Shiryuu supposes weakly, after a whole forever later. "..th...but his chicken was so good..." As if in evidence, Shiryuu's sweater is still deeply spicy, and the ninjutsu-sealed cutlet is still in his back pocket. Of all the days for him to _not_ be dressed in ten layers.

'I guess it's because I'm bad luck.'

Shiryuu squints at his pillow. "H..hey."

A hand limply pats Akabane's leg, and stays there awhile. "don't say that."

"...you're good luck," the boy with the grey hair manages. "everybody else ... sucked. they stole your idea, though. everybody trying to be on a date... I thought it was Christmas... s'posed to.. wh-- oh fuu..!!"

Now Shiryuu starts wiggling furiously. He's trying to get to his phone, the red handset in his pocket, and manages to fire off at least seven text messages in a surprising amount of time for being someone who's barely alive.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> No no no, you can't die now, Shiryuu. The date's not over yet.

("Don't get distracted in the middle of a road. You can object all you like later~")

Nevermind that Shiryuu doesn't even realize the significance of the day yet. That, or he's too distracted to put one and one together to form two, a necessary component of a couple. Umie's sure this is the case here.

Still, even Umie at the height of her teasing has her limits; his mumbled objections to her little barbs is the first clue he's not as well as he's trying to project.

The second was how quiet it was when Umie eased into her bath. Not that Shiryuu is a chatterbox (quite the opposite), but usually by this point, she'd hear him restlessly moving towards something or another, his nature unable to let him rest as much as Umie's own.

(She'll take a handful of those mints while she's in the tub. That seems like an excellent idea. She's cleaning up for him!)

However, much like how Shiryuu cannot sleep, Umie cannot allow herself to mercilessly become one with the bath for well over an hour, so, eventually, two souls go towards each other to reconvene.

'That feels...good..' Umie's cheeks grow pink from the compliment, as she teases her fingers through his hair with gentle motions.

Shiryuu would normally never let himself have little comforts like this, would he? Something so innocent... it'd dent his image of being 'invincible'. "Toothbrush, eh... I can do that."

... He must be pretty ill.

Ah, it's a good thing she's here.
This way, she can take advantage of it.

Soon enough, Shiryuu shifts, turning his attention towards her, despite his own cursed stomach. "I'm fine. The samue's pretty comfy." She's still warm from the bath, besides. Is it a girl thing, he asks.

"I suppose it could," she humors, but doesn't shift from her position, content to keep stroking his head until he feel asleep.

Don't let her win, Shiryuu.

"It's... well, that'd mean there's a thirteenth month, but it's not like that, in Wang Long," Umie responds, to Shiryuu. "It's... a passage of bad luck. I've always been able to sense it, when I was in Sumaru City. It comes and goes." Her half-smile grows sharp, her throat holding back a cackle at Shiryuu mentioning how good his chicken was. "It's all just rumors. Just like me, being descended from a ninja princess."

It's like a natural disaster, each rumor owing its existence to the ids of the human society.

'Don't say that.'

"Didn't you know?" Umie turns, more fully this time, shifting her weight to lean over Shiryuu, loose damp tendrils hanging like a pale gold frame on either side of her cheeks.

"When something bad happens, that means the good will be just as good..."

It's a lie she's telling Shiryuu; she wants to be the cool person he sees her as.

'.... you're good luck.' Umie stills, stunned at the naked compliment, cheeks growing pink as she tries to carry on with whatever seductive plan she was going to attempt.

Then, she's stunned for another reason, as it's only *now* that Shiryuu realizes what today was.

Huh, he really didn't realize--

By text message #7, Umie's already running damage control. "It's okay, Shiryuu. Really, this is the first Christmas date I've ever had--" NO YOU'RE MAKING IT WORSE, UMIE "I have a present for you." NO UMIE NO

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> Shiryuu would probably be fighting with her right now if he could be. As it is, the boy is (mostly) motionless, ambiently restless, and trying his best to say things in as aggressive a tone as he can, warning her that any attempt to take advantage of his poor stomach is going to result in immediate censure.

Even so. 'iiih... wh.. nnn..' is hard to make sound fierce, or really very cool at all. The onmitsu moves a little bit, ineffectually nestling close to Akabane.

"...sh...."

Theoretically he's trying to fight her off. If fighting her off means getting chills from her touch. "...mmmm."

_Maximum aggression._

No, wait. There is a hot flare of emotion as she insists everything is just rumors. "Wooh," Shiryuu complains gruffly, a single sprig of rebellious, nettled grey hair sticking up from his scalp as he dart-raises his head from the pillow, as far as his neck will go (not far.) "Just because it's a rumor doesn't mean it's fake!" the activated onmitsu muffles just above the pillow. "Umie, don't underestimate the enemy's ancient flavor profile...!"

The collective id has nothing against the font of true flavor. This is apparently something Shiryuu feels strongly about. Once he's re-hydrated, he's probably going to be ruined for chicken forever, at this rate. At least he might be quieter about it.

*paf* oop. Nope, he's out of argument again.

"I would take you with me everywhere if I could," Shiryuu mumbles into his pillow, haphazardly trying to return the favor, soothing gentle strokes along her leg. So drained, he almost doesn't notice her seduction. Almost.

...!

Even worse yet, he's noticed that she's _insanely close._ And his hand is...!! Akabane's voice trickles into his ear like the smooth babble of a mountain creek, and the boy's eyes widen all the way until his left starts twitching involuntarily, the bright bleached blue and fine circuitous patterns glinting in the light as he tries his best to roll over.

"A, Akaba--" She was trying to get away with murder!

All of a sudden, Shiryuu's mouth knits shut tightly, midsentence. His hand darts back, as if her thigh were the surface of a hot pan. "Mmnf!" That's right about when he realizes what day it is, and this starts a whole chain reaction of texting and expensive sounds. IT'S CHRISTMAS.

'This is the first Christmas date I've ever had--' "!!!" Why is she saying it like that?? This is a thing?? It's her first?? "?!"

'I got you a gift.' "!!!!"

_pow_ Well, in trying to squeeze a reply out of his phone, Shiryuu's rolled right off the side and crashed to the floor, caught in his sweater and a pile of blankets.

The -woop- -woop- -woop- sound of text bubbles filling someone's screen can be heard, muted from off the edge of the bed.

SBSN: zen
SBSN: zen wake up i knead u
SBSN: need* fuck
SBSN: listen dont make a big deal about tit
SBSN: i got in a fight left the med pkg in indigo
SBSN: i'm at the prince need it shukuchi fast
SBSN: zen omfg where are u i need the guys
lordlongjohn: What are you saying
SBSN: ZEN OMFG YOUL 2012 GET YOUR ASS IN GABLE
lordlongjohn: Calm down I'll call Nahara she's in Shibuya
SBSN: OMFG NOT HER
*woop* *zoo* *woop* *woop* *woop*
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> The level of aggression coming from Shiryuu right now is like hearing the little aggressive 'mowmowmow' sounds a kitten makes when they're hungrily chowing down food. (That is, it just incites Umie further, ho ho ho)

Maybe he'll settle down soon... She'll probably find a couch or something to sleep on. They may be girlfriend and boyfriend, but sleeping in the same bed like this would be better suited for when he can consent to it, not when he's too sick to really care.

Alas!! *poing* Umie's statment awakens a rebellious cowlick hair in Shiryuu, who feels a need to object against her incorrect characterization of the colonel's eleven spices of finger-licking tyranny.

Umie opens her mouth, about to protest, but realizes the best procedure is to give it a few more seconds and-- *paf* there he goes, again.

This is the same young man who drugged and kidnapped her, had her bound to a chair, and demanded to know what her intentions were for the Ryouhara clan, and if she, at any point, truly loved him.

Mai-chan had determined that Umie giving in and telling him exactly what she wanted to say would further his spiral into paranoia. She always expected the worst in people, a trait Umie tried her best not to inherit, yet still, it'd slip through in her darker moments.

... But that wasn't what happened. Neither did it fall into the opposite sort of loop of abuse.

And now, Umie's top half arcs carefully over the weakened Shiryuu, her eyelids half closed, breath (suspiciously) minty from the complimentary mints left in the bathroom.

'I would take you with me everywhere if I could.' Umie's breath jumps a notch as she feels Shiryuu's sleepy attempt to comfort her, his gentle strokes touching her leg.

... She almost made an embarrassing sound there. Don't let him win, Umie!

'A, Akaba--' His own face is shocked, his hand withdrawing as he realizes what he was doing.

It comes to her smoothly, then, that blackbird smile. "I think I'm where I want to be, right now," she says, about to lower down for a kiss--

wait where is Shiryuu, where did he go

POW "S-Shiryuu!" DID HE JUST ROLL OFF THE BED

She disregards the woopwoopwoop of the phone, crawling onto the bed to go check on the swaddled shirogarasu. "Hold on, let me..." She reaches out a hand, intending to tug him out.

Of course, if he tugs too hard, she might end up in the pile with him, but there's no chance of that happening, is there?

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> 'This woman is infuriatingly cool.' Shiryuu's eyes are sharp and fine as he gives her the most dire look, somewhere between imperious rebellion and panic. His mouth is still knit shut as his eyes half-lid, as she gets intensely close to kissing him. A single bead of sweat trails down his temple, and it doesn't have anything to do with his sickness.

Every inch of the boy is alive and active, with her warm and soft and close. She's cut off the space entirely between them -- and every inch of the young man is completely disarmed, pliant and hyperaware. It, th- this is bad!!

Woop woop woop, even as she starts to fill up every inch of the shinobi's attention and view, she can hear the boy's text bubbles going off in successively faster rapid fire somewhere by her hips. Now a whole shock of his hair is fully spiked up in open revolt.

As a side note, never insinuate a shinobi's hair makes noise. It does not, no matter how hard you try to impugn his honor by imagining it.

The young man himself, on the other hand.... Ah, she's so minty. 'Akabane, did you eat the choco,' Shiryuu almost says. Instead, it comes out like: "...mmnnf." Peering down the lines of her, he makes the *smallest* noise in the back of his throat, without opening his mouth. His hands twitch, locked around his phone as his grip tightens.

Based on the way his legs raise to run along hers, he seems _deeply fine_ about her being on the bed. It's just...

Come _on_ Korozen. You'd better not be playing Drake Adventure...

She's going to win at this rate...!!

And as she leans in, crossing the last couple centimeters -- that's when Shiryuu falls off the bed entirely, flipping all the way around to land roughly on his back in a nefarious pile of bedding and deliciously spicy clothing.

woopwoopwoopwoop!!! ... vooo.

"_aaahhhh,_" Ryouhara growls from down there, at his phone, looking up as she calls out his name in just such a way. He blinks.

And then Shiryuu stops paying attention to his phone at all.

...vooo?

"...ah... it's alright.. I'm.."

It's a bad idea for him to be on the bed right now, really, truthfully. Actually -- he shifts, finding himself caught, really, and -- is she tugging? Wait, what's she tugging on? His zipper starts to unzip as it's caught in the blanket. "!!" Shiryuu tugs back, trying to --

_oh no_

The rest of the comforter comes with Shiryuu trying to keep his sweater on, a resounding _zziiiip_ pulling as the boy manages to dislodge half the bed by fighting back -- and with it, Umie Akabane.

"wh-- watch out!!"

To his merit, he -will- try to catch her, with his hands somewhere at his sides, maybe attempting to keep her from roughly colliding with the ground and -- "augh!"

"y-- your knee is.."
Akabane... do you have a heatseeking knee?

It's a weird mirror image of that night in her apartment so long ago. So long go, and it still feels like the first time -- with the young man deeply hyperaware of where his hands are, aware enough that he has almost immediately forgotten the intense amount of pain he's in. Again.

Except this time he's not talking directly at her. He's talking to something that is apparently under the bed. No, there's nothing under there -- the case he pulled out is still on the other side of the room. But for some reason he's not talking directly at her. Shiryuu is -very- insistent about it.

"--aigh--"
Let's just hope that Umie doesn't move too much this time. The last time, Shiryuu ended up unconscious.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "H-hold on, let me get you up." All pretense of seduction has flat out disappeared, as Umie is concerned she had not only made Shiryuu get hurt, but also, pushed him a little too far. "Don't move, I'll, ah...."

In the low, neon-fed light of the room, it was hard to figure out what was safe to tug on, in order to try to help Shiryuu up.

Logic would say that a better method would be to straighten, find the light switch, and walk *around* the bed to the other side where Shiryuu was, and help him up there instead of trying to do it over the width of a bed. Umie doesn't have the Badb's assistance in this matter, so he could easily--

--pull her
and the comforter
OFF THE DAMN BED

_why does he smell like spicy chicken and something a little less pleasant_

'y-- your knee is..'

"... eh...?"

....... oh

Umie's face immediately flushes as red as a beet with embarrassment. "... S-sorry," she squeaks, uncharacteristically. "... I'm... going to move my knee, okay?"

Normally she shouldn't need to announce her intentions, but Shiryuu's attempts to commandeer the situation may overwrite Umie's attempts to *correct* the situation.

Surely they can fix this with as little pain and suffering as possible, just the two of them, clearly at their most logical.

'I wonder what it'd look like, if someone came in right now~' SHUT UP MAI-CHAN
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> "aigh," Shiryuu replies succinctly, turning blue.
It's good he can't breathe. She's still too close. Be brave, nin-shounen, you are strong. You will survive this.

Objectively, Shiryuu doesn't find ... most of this ... problematic. There is the obvious problem of course, the fact that his heartbeat is lodged somewhere in his neck right now, causing the young man to be ramrod straight and locked in place.

But if he's not talking or breathing, then maybe he can steal a bit of a glance across the beet-red girl, uncomfortably close and ..

Shiryuu dares to shift a little bit, under her. It proves not to be the greatest idea, but the discomfited look Ryouhara fixes her with, a two-toned awkward glance, up and down, is proof he may not be entirely upset with her. He's not going to face to face with her, just in case, but...

She smells much nicer than even the cutlet, he thinks idly while waiting, while her knee pushes his spine into his throat. A tiny look of appreciation, despite all odds, distracting him entirely. She's... really...

Akabane shifts, and his attention snaps to the fore, the pressure leaving Shiryuu all at once. He very carefully avoids breathing out, no matter how his chest burns for it. "..."

"I taste metal," he thinks aloud, tepidly.

Of note, Shiryuu hasn't moved a lot since Umie landed on him. The onmitsu is still more or less in the same position, knees spread, bound up in the blanket and the comforter, with her on top of him. This also means -- technically he caught most of her, and because he's spent the last minute or so frozen solid, he hasn't -actually- let go of her yet.

... Ah, his grip is dangerously low on his date's hips. Mostly because his elbows are tied tight to -his- hips. Shiryuu only notices this when.... oh, that _isn't_ a pillow he' holding between them. Not at all. Oooh... fu..

"...er...ah... sorry," he says.

Then without thinking, he lets go.
It's a little bit like dropping a hammer.
Hopefully your foot isn't in the way.
(it's definitely in the way)
(the foot is a euphemism, probably.) (likely.)

...*zooo*, his phone muffles.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Be brave, mighty shirogarasu.

The night is only beginning.

Umie's gaze, when Shiryuu finds the nerve to glance back at her, is likewise unable to look down at his own, despite how intimately close she is to him.

It's not like this is the first time this has happened; they've found comfort in the simple acts of holding each other, holding hands, or kissing. There's no embarrassment to be found in this action specifically.

However, this *is* the first time Umie's injured him in such an undignified manner.

Still, it allows Shiryuu a chance to smell something that *isn't* spices.

It's the smell of freshly shampooed hair and clean skin, of soap and water, mint and faint chocolate, furthered by the smell of her underneath it, like a foundation.

'I taste metal'. "God... my first Christmas date and I'm going to have to take my boyfriend to the hospital..." she groans, with a pitiful wheeze.

She's likely joked that the worst punishment she could give Shiryuu for his crimes is to be in love with him, but that was meant as a *joke*.

It's too bad; something about being swaddled with the person you love in a tangle of blankets feels sweet. Comfortable clothes, freshly washed, the smell of him against you and nothing outside...

.... except the threat of Mai-chan's presence, right when it would be the most uncomfortable for her to be there, and only then.

Tellingly, Mai-chan is *not* here, which means Umie is doing a great job of making things worse on herself, as usual.

And so is Shiryuu, for that matter, as Umie's embarrassment begins to die out, and the sensation of where Shiryuu's hands have grabbed makes itself known. Umie's face pinkens anew, but she says nothing. It's not his fault, after all. She doesn't even entirely mind it, even; in another context, she'd find it a little exciting.

The only excitement here, however, is when Shiryuu tries to do the right thing and let go of Umie's hips and posterior.

....

FOR THE RECORD, Umie *did* have her hands to either side of Shiryuu's head, the Mark peeking out from her right wrist like a curious, constant observer.

However, the grip her hands had on the fabric was not prepared to support her full weight without warning.

"-oof-," Umie goes, though her objection is muffled by two things: the rest of the comforter coming down on top of them both, and her, coming down straight on the bound Shiryuu.

At least the fabric he's tangled in cushions much of the impact.

It'll do nothing for their dignity, however.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> And just like that, it's probably the closest Shiryuu will ever come to being full knighted by Umie.

To his merit, Shiryuu is quite capable of determining the difference between someone's... ahem ... and a pillow. Especially Akabane's. But it's significantly harder to make that mental leap when the only thing you can taste is someone's muay thai-grade crow knee genocide.

(It is absolutely not the first time Umie has obliterated Shiryuu. At least he isn't going to get kicked in the face again. Shiryuu's fast; he's ready this time and he will dodge it.)

(Being mashed, on the other hand; that's a new one.)

'-oof-,' "-kuh!-"

Just like that, the entire bed is stripped unceremoniously, dropping in a vast white pile on top of the two. Here we see the problem with Shiryuu's attempts at excess; the bed is absolutely massive, and the comforter is too, and though Shiryuu is certainly tall enough to appreciate it, the entire amount of bedding is quite a lot for the space between the bed and the wall.

And just like that, the scent of linen starts to overpower the spicy scent of homestyle chicken, the warm scent of her mint, and the enduring street rain. Along with other things that should rightfully remain nameless.

"... iih.. are you okay?" he asks quietly, once he gets his wind back. "I didn't -- mean to..."

Agh, what does this mean? Is he an offender? Do they have to get married now? He's very not sure. It wasn't this hard in the club. Shiryuu's hair is the only thing visible from behind a wall of heavy comforter, giving him the appearance of a blanket with really rebellious grey hair. It leaves him to muffle and blindly reach (carefully!) to her, patting only one he's absolutely sure he's hitting her hand. Her hand.

"It's just..."

"..mnnh." The onmitsu is absolutely not capable of forming a coherent thought, this close to her. In lieu of -saying- something, the boy shifts noticeably underneath her, popping the sweater's zipper so he can eel out of it one shoulder at a time. It's hard to really talk like this, so...

The grey-haired blanket sighs, slipping a bare arm out of the blanket pile to rest over the small of Umie's back, winding up with her just a little bit more.

".... why the hospital?" he asks, murmuring quietly, moodily into the labyrinth of the comforter. He still can't see her, navigating by feel of her warmth alone, and letting her weight rest against him. "no need. I'm invincible."
"And..."

"'I think I'm where I want to be,'" he decides, quoting her, before giving another pat.
Thought.

"...maybe a little to the right of where."
The bed's on the left. "... this is fine," he supposes.
At least she kneed the nausea out of him.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> For the record, Umie has a very nice--

(let's move on)

As the comforter's weight begins to settle in on them, Umie stays there in the soft expanse of cloth, bewildered as well as a little appreciative.

It's kind of cute, like the sorts of things she have dreamed of doing with one boyfriend or another, before the weight of everything made her break up with them and start over.

.... when will it happen, for this relationship? Surely, the Order will intervene at some point, or force a conclusion to the matter with a wedding, with the pretense of tying Umie back into the fold and stuffing her back into the very box she was trying to get away from.

A pretty wife, there to serve as a means to an end. For the Ryouharas, obviously, that would mean....

'... iih.. are you okay?'

"... Have you... ever lasted this long, in a relationship, Shiryuu?" Did that mean a yes or a no?

A second passes. "... Yeah. Just... had a moment." She huffs a breath. "The Order... they might force the issue, you know. Like Ruin said. Getting me married off... they'd see that as a great way to rope me back into the fold. Whether it's you or Honjou-san..."

".... Sorry, I just felt really happy and got worried, for a moment, that I wasn't considering everything that could go wrong."

She feels Shiryuu shift in the sheets underneath her; she tries to oblige it, not wanting the boy that mess of hair belongs to to suffocate, either from heat or lack of air.

The hand patting hers may be incidental, as the shinobi feels his way around with touch, but she squeezes his hand back, all the same, as she pushes those anxious thoughts out of her head.

.... that process is *definitely* helped along by the feel of his fingers touching the small of her back, sending little sparks running up her spine as it rests there. He'll even hear the quiet little sound she makes.

That arm is bare. Is he tangled up in his sweater?

He's where he wants to be.

".... Shiryuu...."
Not a second passes before Umie adds, just to offset how sweetly she whispers his name, ".... you big dolt."

Somehow it still sounds just as affectionate.

'...maybe a little to the right of where.' "The wall's to your right," Umie helpfully(?) points out.

"Could we... spend a little time, like this?" She smirks. "Assuming you're not dying from the heat underneath there." Or... wait. If this arm is bare, does that mean _he's naked now_?

Umie's cheeks get bright red at the thought. But it's fine, right?

After all, no one's coming to see them in this state, after all...

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> DON'T REMIND HIM HE IS DEEPLY AWARE.
ahem. yes, let's move on.

The mass of blanket and comforter is quiet and still for a moment, as he considers the woman draped in with him, a soft warmth just on the other side of the dense bedding. For a moment, it's .. it's nice, right? He even manages to surface, his face popping up from the edge of the blanket like a swimmer coming up for air. "Pffffwwiff," he gasps, cheeks puffed out. But despite his initial instincts, there is something ... sad, in the way she starts.

'Have you ever lasted this long in a relationship, Shiryuu?'

"....." For a moment, the two brightly contrasted colors of Shiryuu's eyes look down at her, before he remembers to shut his left, a concession to trying to look presentable -- not that it matters, even the craze his hair's become. The question hangs in the air for a few uncomfortable moments.

".. I .. don't know."

There's certainly been sensual moments in his life, or at least things that he would classify as sensual. Girls from Sendai who smiled at him just so -- people who stayed a little too long after the set was over, people who came backstage, and the sound of the bathroom doors creaking as he wasn't alone.

He remembers recurring faces, tears, pills, tangled limbs. He could put shapes to the lips, and names to the people, if he really thought about it.

But would he even know if it meant anything at all to him...?

The onmitsu is quiet, avoiding looking directly at Umie after, staring off under the bed again, this time for entirely different reasons.

Does not knowing how any of it made him feel make him... soulless?

He tries to explain it. "I... um.. don't know if ..."

.... he shakes his head.
Maybe it does.
But it's not what she needs to hear.
"...ignore me, I'm just... what matters is you, okay?"

The idea that the Order might force things takes preeminent priority in his mind, especially to the idea that she might get married to someone -- anyone, really. Honjou, him...?

'If you'd put a ring on it, then perhaps the Lions could let this slide.'

Those particular words, in that particular order, burn in a very acid way.

"...um.. If you don't want ..."
The onmitsu halts, thinking about how best to say it.
He can't quite see it, but his hand slides into hers, and squeezes back.
"... you deserve the same choices that any person does. If anyone wants to try differently, I'll just crush their limbs and teeth, until they beg you for their freedom."

I'm sure he meant that to be comforting.

'..you big dolt.'

"iiiih, Umie!" Shiryuu replies through pursed lips, his russet eye narrowing as he is entirely vexed. Or at least, that's the idea, until he breathes outward into the blanket's space, a little *puff* raising the comforter over his face. "That's not fair."

The wall's to the right. "I know, i--"

... her voice is nice.

"....mmm," the boy concedes.
"That's fine."

He slides his fingers out from between hers, and links them both behind her, to hold the troublesome Akabane tight, steepling his fingers together behind her in defeat. Hrmnrr. She's winning right now. And both of his arms are actually bare. Luckily -- there's a lot of blankets between them, so the mystery is..

"..h..hey. For the record, I _did_ get you a present too, you know. J--just so you know I'm not a deadbeat person, or an...an... 'EBENEZER SCROOGE.'"
He clearly just found out about him the other day, judging by his pronunciation.
Leave it to Shiryuu not to leave a moment well enough alone.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Just as Umie becomes worried that Shiryuu might be running out of air while his girlfriend began to wonder on the melancholy of the past and the bonds of the present, he surfaces, looking more like the confused boy her age than the indomitable shihaisha that has bloodied his hands.

But isn't that a fantasy a lot of women have? 'He's like this, just for me.' But that would imply the way he's acting is the way she wants him to be, rather than something she was attracted to.

It's just the natural state, of two people letting go of their masks.
Right?

The brown and blue of his eyes are visible briefly before he closes the blue one, as he considers Umie's question.

When he does answer, it's with an honesty that wouldn't be out of place for someone else their age, but a complete antithesis for him, the shirogarasu, the head of the old Ryouhara clan.

With the distance between those two comparisons, Umie feels like she's seeing not just insecurity, but the edges of a wound Shiryuu has yet to fully understand.

He's looking away, now.

Now able to see where his body lays in relation to her own, Umie lays her head against the crook of his shoulder (or where it seems to exist, under the blankets). "I guess, it's the same for me."

'... ignore me, I'm just...' "... It's still something on your mind."

What does it mean, to understand someone? Umie can't say she's ever really tried to understand any of the people she dated back then, few as they were. To understand someone would mean to accept the possibility that she'd consider a relationship for longer than it took to come to reason with the breathy, flighty butterflies in her stomach and the chills of simple, innocent touches and whispers. Like a butterfly in summer, they were not meant to last more than a season.

"... Does your eye hurt at all, when it's blue like that?" she asks, her head turned towards his chest.
'If you'd put a ring on it, then perhaps the Lions could let this slide.' Umie'd make a sweet little wife, wouldn't she, Shiryuu? You could have the Lions' (with an s, indicating more than two, not that Umie understands the significance) blessing, for taking this little troublemaker off the Order's hands before she could graduate into something that would need to be dealt with.

Everyone loves a wedding.

'...um.. If you don't want ...' "I-I mean... if I do..." she stutters, in that intimate space, as Shiryuu's fingers clasp into hers, "... it'll be because I want to, and only then." She hesitates a second. "... It's not that I don't... want to, I just... it feels like I've barely stepped into the world. And... with..." The Order, she wants to say, and add onto that--

'If anyone wants to try differently, I'll just crush their limbs and teeth, until they beg you for their freedom.'

There's a squeak in the sheets.

Umie's fingers fumble to her mouth as she realized *that was her*.

Ahem. ".... I'll do the crushing, thank you very much," she projects, with a deeper, confident tone.

She is the one having a date with her _boyfriend_, and she's scandalously tangled with him in *bedsheets* (a comforter and blankets) because they were just that in love with each other (he was too focused on his phone as she leaned in to seduce him) and she will make out with him and give him his present and they shall be very much acting like they know what they are doing.

Yes.

"Is that what you were texting about?" Umie teases. "And my, my, who is this Ii-bo-ne-za Sukoruji fellow you mention? Sounds like someone who's forgotten the spirit of Christmas~" Look at that face, she knows exactly what she's doing here. "Maybe, three spirits will come teach him..."

Wait.

With a quieter tone, Umie repeats, "... you... got me a present."
She got him a present, yes. Something cute that she saved up for, knowing that he's very particular on the brands he wears. Even something simple needs to be well-made and a marker of style.

Maybe this was a last second thing, on his part.

She wouldn't even care, if it was.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> The idea of 'weakness' is something incomprehensible.

Even in that situation, even with the slow, measured blink of that leader of the clan and the slight part of his lips as he looks off into the dark with quiet introspection -- the idea of 'admitting what was lost' is not at all something he can give himself the grace to do.

If he is 'less than human' as a result of what he did, then it's fine.

She, in this moment, that moment, or the next, is the incontrovertible priority. There's no need to burden her with impossible notions and miserable things.

'Does your eye hurt at all, when it's blue like that?'

His remaining eye is almost shut, lidding to a thin crescent with his warmer mien. "...don't worry about little things like that."

Impossible notions and miserable things. It's why the boy makes a low sound in the back of his throat when she replies, her quiet admission that commiserates with him so simply, the stronger confidence of that cool girl's attitude she shows him. It's fine if she doesn't want to, he resolves strongly. If it's not 'her'... then there's no point in it.

The opinions of lions don't matter to the crows in the tree.

But Shiryuu is moved most by the small sound she makes in the sheets with him, the boy peering over the ridge of his blanket fortress appraisingly as she nestles in in that little notch, the floor between the bed and the wall. One brown eye, now open, sharply concerns her. A thought, a moment.

...that grey-haired boy's mouth presses together into a small smile.

She'll feel him shift, unlinking his hands to touch the back of her hairline as she rests her head against the boy's lissome stretch. It's enough that he considers her tough words while he mulls over the nape of her neck thoughtfully, to fondly curl at stray, unminded strands of her hair to soothe himself and her in the same run, endeared.

'I'll do the crushing,' she insisted so bravely.

"Okay," Shiryuu replies, soothing the tough little bird.

("i'll definitely crush their bones even harder after," the shijou shirogarasu resolves under his breath.)

Yes, Shiryuu knows what's really important here.

Even so, it's just not well enough to be left alone. His telling her flatly that he's no terrible scrooge only seems to earn him MORE OF THIS DEPRAVITY. "iih--!!" Shiryuu objects nobly and fully to this woman. "Three!" he says in full, hushed alarm. "Umie...!"

That's too many!

"I could only satisfy two at my current level!!" Shiryuu is in colors. Absolute dismay. Not even her attempts to rewind to what he was talking about is going to calm his alerted grey hair and exposed fang down.

"Eh-- well yes!" he agrees quickly, no longer paying attention at all. "I, I figured I would bring it to you after I finished, so it's just in the wrong cit--Akabane! More importantly, three is too much!"

He's very concerned about what kind of performance Umie is expecting out of him in this state.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> '...don't worry about little things like that.' "That just makes me worry more," Umie shoots back, with a deadpan tone.

"... You... do know that there's sometimes kegare around it, right? I can sense it." Shiryuu can feel the way her head turns upwards, in a vain attempt at seeing that eye, before she resigns herself to settling back into the crook of his arm. "Just like with the Joker Cursed, but... different. It's the same stuff, but yours doesn't follow the same pattern." She's mentioned it before, she's sure of it.

"Just like it's been everywhere in Sumaru City, lately. Maybe it's always been there and I didn't know, but... it's like a hum at the back of my head."

Just enough to exist, but equally easily ignored, when she's distracted by other things.

.... like the interlinked fingers against the small of her back, one hand now moving to curl and gently pull at the wisps of hair at the nape of her neck, drawing pleasant prickles of sensation.

Then, there's the angle of his face when it smiles at her.

She loves that smile, and secretly wonders how she managed to draw it out of him now, without having done much of anything at all to grab it.

(That's all it takes, for her to forget about kegare.)

If that was exhibit A, the next part is exhibit B.

'Satisfy', huh.... "Three," Umie asserts. "Are you saying the mighty shirogarasu couldn't handle three ghosts? Mm hmm hmmm.... I suppose I'll have to take one ghost off your hands, then."

She hides a toothy grin into the sheets on his chest.

"I can't have you satisfying ghosts when you should be busy with me instead, after all~"

Don't blame the girl, you set this up yourself, Shiryuu!

Finished. "Finished..." Is he... making something? For her? It could be a knife or a mishapen piece of pottery at that point; the way Umie's cheeks burn make her wish she could cover her face, like she used to.

..... she hasn't done that in a while, hasn't she...

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> ".... mmm," Shiryuu concedes in his wintry quietude, not begrudging her her riposte. The boy sits with it for awhile, buried in that little rolling pile of soft bedding with his 'bond,' the entire universe of blankets slowly replacing the spiced scent of chicken with that of linen and chocolate mint.

"A ninkou is a way of performing a 'miracle in our time.'"

It's something he's spoken about briefly, in the past. His eye is still closed as he speaks, as he busies himself with the feel of her skin, with the tousles of hair and their sensation between his fingers.

"But... all miracles have a cost."

It's something implicitly understood to the Ryouhara, and a damning secret to the rest of the world. If she were any other person, in any other place, even admitting she can sense that much about his eye would have been cause for execution.

Here, there are greater weaknesses shared.

"Among other things, my 'eye' can invoke auspicious transmission, but it unbalances the net rational in doing so, causing a circuitous blight. That is the kegare level, the thing you can sense..."

He thinks over it, anxiously soothing fingertips into the back of her hairline, as if he could feel the source of the hum she was talking about with touch alone.

What little anxiety is paid out in touch is more than repaid in words, and Umie's chattering is not helping Shiryuu's mounting alarm.

"Aaah, what an insatiable woman you are--!" Shiryuu complains loudly.

The boy shifts, ornery.

And just like that, the onmitsu flips his crow in the little blanket nook.

The entire mess tumbles into a knot with Shiryuu's roll, and the whole tide of white is a little bit like a capsizing ship in the young man's rancor. Hands, body, the entire shinobi disappears for one laundry-white moment. And then he's above her.

At least his hair isn't quite long enough to surround her.

A strong, dexterous hand slides into the morass of blankets and what remains of his sweater, bracing on the floor under her. Ryouhara's eeled almost entirely out of his confinement in the trade -- and yes, other than the varying accessories around his neck, biceps and wrists, it does mean the boy's all but slithered out of all of the clothing north of his belt buckle.

Ahem. Let's move on.

She'll feel that her weight isn't quite on the floor-- the hand at the small of her back, now swathed in an entirety of blankets holds her suspended in some version of hapless safety.

More importantly, she's eye to eye with him now.

"Finished," Ryouhara confirms flatly with the tables literally flipped.
His lips are close enough that she can feel his cool breath on hers when he slowly draws a breath in, holding it as he leans closer....

...and kisses Umie on the forehead, if she doesn't find some other diabolical way to crush his descendants once more.

"I've been sitting on a cutlet for twenty minutes...and I need to find a toothbrush," he whispers.

If she doesn't get up of her own volition, Shiryuu will help, hauling up the entire mass of bedding with her somewhere inside it on an arm, to drop his bundled girlfriend on the bed unceremoniously like cute luggage.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'But... all miracles have a cost.' "So, in short, it's a correction..." Umie's voice grows softer, lulled to a sedate space by Shiryuu's fingers as they worry their way through the baby hairs at the nape of her neck. "... Won't that hurt you, eventually?" Shiryuu may hear Umie's own worry in her question. The value in it is in Shiryuu, not his eye, or the ninkou.

Umie is, however, ignorant of what fate would normally befall someone with this knowledge; no doubt, if she did know, she'd object at how the punishment nowhere fit the crime, considering how simple a concept it is.

She does, however, see it as Shiryuu admitting a 'weakness', here in the moment.

So, she shares her own. "I guess, if you'd call my Mark's abilities as a 'miracle'," she starts, dryly, "maybe it runs on the same principal. A demon has to come from somewhere. To bring something from another place... it's not so different from transmitting something to another place. The price..." She can only feel safe, thinking about these things, right here, nestled in a blanket fort with a member of the NWO. How did this happen...? "I imagine, someone in the Order likely knows."

The irony of it all... no wonder they're poking and teasing each other, moments later.

"You should have known that to begin with~" she playfully chides back, reaching a hand up to curl against shifting Shiryuu's jawline--

But... she's not fast enough.

Like a whirlwind, the world becomes a round mess of white sheets and linen, with Umie laughing and cackling, even as Shiryuu has now suspended himself, half-naked, over her.

"Ah, Christmas is saved yet again..." She grins up at him like a pleased cat, all slow blinks and with an open-mouthed scythe of a smile as he closes in.

Shiryuu is spared more injury by his thoughtfulness, Umie trusting in the hand at the small of her back and the suspension of blankets to not just dump her as long as she stays still.

"..... a.... what?" A cutlet, Umie, keep up! "... Mmmn... just a little longer..."

Nope; Shiryuu is hauling the mess of her and the blankets straight onto the bed, leaving Umie to waddle out of them, static making the drier parts of her hair stick out by the time her head pops out.

She's still cackling as she pops her head back into that little nest, indulging in the scent left behin--

--nope she's popping her head back out; his rain scent's been defeated by the spicy chicken, bok bok.

Reluctantly, she sheds herself from that cocoon of blankets, and sits on the edge of the bed, attempting to tame the mess of her hair and buns. "I thought I saw one on the side of the sink. Though... if I'm going to stay over, we'll need one for me too."

She casts a glance over at the gift for him, placed protectively on top of her clothes. Somehow, by virtue of it being tucked on the inside of her jacket, the present was spared everything but the bit of sweat that may have gotten through her sweater. ".... There's still your present, too."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> '...Won't that hurt you, eventually?'
If Shiryuu were to stop and think on it, it's the logical conclusion to come to -- the Kyotosaigan isn't a forgiving 'eye.' There's a lot to be said about the costs of being a shinobi, of the bargains that are accepted when one raises the mantle of the moon to one's own shoulders. But this 'bond' of his is a curious bird, who'll likely hear none of it.

His left eye is still closed -- absent the seal he forewent for the purposes of blending in, it was easier to manage. Too much 'stress' for it, even now.

His mouth sets in a thin, determined line.

"I'll have to make sure that using it is worth it, then."

The idea that in their desperation they found a way to throw an entire ship through a building is a fact that hangs in the air.

"--yes, the inimitable legacy of the enemy commander, Umie!" Shiryuu is almost hurt Umie is still not taking the Colonel's chicken seriously even after being shown proof of its power, and the laughing gremlin is dropped back onto the bed as Ryouhara stretches out all of his kinks in a shade of detached annoyance, linking his arms behind his back and leaning into the arch, not stopping until he hears the satisfying pop in his back. He doesn't seem to mind the few bruises from being slammed into an unwilling sandwich.

Mmn. He slides a hand into his back pocket.

It's actually pretty impressive that his pants aren't ninety percent grease by now, but when the boy unsheathes the perfectly preserved wrapped paper package (it has some sort of fuinjutsu inscribed on it. Does that really work on chicken??) the exquisitely carved shape o the cutlet lets the onmitsu spin it in the air like a throwing knife, or a cowboy with a revolver. "Behold, the power of the enemy, preserved for our use." He slaps it down on the table that (was) where the choco was the last time they were here. The table hasn't been eliminated in one of Shiryuu's many austerity sweeps, and is probably now carrying the 'food table' designation, judging by the way the young man places the wrapped cutlet dead center, and uses another ninkoujutsu at the unassuming package, sweating as he presses both of his hands together.

"Fuuin!" Shiryuu barks at the cutlet, after an impressive chain.
The cutlet does not seem to care.

"Yosh." Satisfied by apparently something only he can see, the boy's hands plant on his hips hard. "With this technique under our control, we'll be well apportioned to deal with any future insurgencies, should they arise." Hrmpf.

Shiryuu's determination is ice cold. "'The South shall not rise again,' commander."

After giving her a tiny look that betrays far more of his appreciation of the way she looks with messy hair than he'd like, the young man pads off to the bathroom on Umie's suggestion, after that.

The sound of water almost immediately follows a the boy turns it on, wasting no time to finally scrub the godawful second coming of said 'South' from his mouth.

An edge of him can be seen from across the luxuriant stretch of the room, the way the boy slings himself low to lean against the sink, resting his weight as he considers her words from earlier.

"...Anyway," he continues from inside, after spitting. He never thought he'd love the burn of mint so much. Ambrosia. "In ninkougakujutsu, the power of 'sending' and the power of 'receiving' are often interlinked inextricably. It's probably why the Mizunagi flew into the sealed space, with our abilities." Leave it to Shiryuu to reason these things out in a fashion that disarms them of their emotional weight, and when the boy is done rinsing, he comes to lean on the frame of the entry into the bath space, one hand stuffed into a pocket.

"I'll send for everything you need," the young man finally tells her. Absolutely she'll stay over, though even his one-eyed gaze turns pensive when it follows hers -- to the colorfully-wrapped furoshiki given pride of place atop her clothes.

She can see the way he swallows uncomfortably.
"I..." Suddenly, Shiryuu's words run quickly and violently to their extent and end. "...you don't need to do these things for me," he says quietly.

"...There's no way I deserve any consideration like that."
There's a tacit reminder of the differences that hang between them. No matter what else transpires between them... she's on the right side of the world, and he simply isn't.

He is an Order spymaster. That much alone should preclude him from that sort of thing.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'I'll have to make sure that using it is worth it, then.' Umie opens her mouth, following that knee-jerk complusion to object, but instead, she closes her lips, thinking about the 'miracle' they produced.

"... I'll do the same," she murmurs against him, instead.

Until then, they'll just have to make do with what they have, which will always involve its share of arguing, apparently.

"That was a mascot of a fried chicken fast food chain, not a commander!" Umie shoots back, exasperated. "... Stop falling for rumors! ... You're worse than... a... uh.... high school gossip!"

That is the sound of Umie being distracted by Shiryuu's stretching in front of her, up until she hears that *crack* of his back and her spell of temporary distraction is summarily broken.

At least she's making a sympathetic face now. "Hey, do you need me to-- a...."

..... up until he draws out that cutlet. "It was in your back pocket?! Shiryuu, what if that's going to explode on us?! You certainly can't *eat* it without getting food poisoning!" Quieting as he slaps the cutlet on that poor table, Umie quiets.

She squints, as he barks a word at it.

"... Well... I guess, if it's sealed," because Umie's just going to assume that's the case with whatever he just did, "we can just...." Throw the perfectly good, yet possibly poisoned food away!

A person can ask themselves why, exactly, a young woman of Umie's background hates wasting food. She certainly didn't want for anything, and there was never a time where she knew true hunger, as a child.
Maybe it was the random, rare sight of seeing aspirational food choices going bad in the fridge before it was used.
Maybe it's some Badb-induced crow behavior (WHICH IS NOT A THING) wherein she sees nothing wrong with saving money by eating boxed food that has been marked down.
Maybe, it'll be a mystery that will have no good answers.

Either way, Umie sits there, furiously occupying herself by taming her mess of hair into buns, almost missing that tiny, lingering look of Shiryuu's.

The room falls quiet except for the sound of Shiryuu brushing his teeth, as Umie completes the second bun, adjusting it on her head.

Sending, and receiving... "But it doesn't explain the ship in two places at once," Umie debates, quietly. "... They *are* the same ship, right?" She wasn't exactly paying attention when she tried to scale it following after Joker, and she wouldn't be able to tell from sight alone if it matched the one on the side of Narumi Memorial Hospital.

"... Was that space always there, or did we... make something new?" she also wonders, in a quieter voice.

Umie is still sitting there, when Shiryuu comes back out, her gaze on the brightly wrapped gift.

Her voice is gentle. "... I did it because I wanted to," she says, simply. "Not because it was the right or wrong thing to do."

'...There's no way I deserve any consideration like that.'
"... You can't say that before you open it, Shiryuu," she says, with a wry, lopsided grin. "I promise, I didn't get you something grand, like jewelry."

No, it's something worse: something she picked, because it felt like something Shiryuu could, and would use.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> "Umiie!" Shiryuu complains, his hair spiking up at her in objection. He can't abide any of her conclusions, but in lieu of a more impassioned argument in the heat of the moment, Shiryuu emphasizes her criminality in tone of voice alone.

Calling him a gossip!!

"Ne --" Shiryuu turns and points illustratively.
He has a mark on his side, at the small of his back just above his beltline, a long visibly purple bruise where the edge of the sandwich smashed into him and burned a bit. There are a few more like it, but it's the most prominent. 'Hey, do you need me to -- ah..'

"This!" Shiryuu argues and interrupts, "is not gossip."

"That was no simple mascot," he continues. "We were in a battle for our lives against a superior foe in the guise of intense flavor Akabane," Shiryuu lays it out reasonably. "A true wolf among the sheep. Danger is everywhere, and making use of every possible advantage is necessary."

He slowly folds his arms, casting a long shadow over the cutlet. "...furthermore, as the shijou shihaisha of the Ryouhara clan, the crows over Shinano, the spearhead of the revolutionaries, the Shirogarasu and the flashing blade of Akita, I am bound to honor and rout every commander of men who stands before me instantly. This is the way to protect 'synchronicity,' and ensure primacy for all of the wayward sons and daughters that bear the peerless mantle of Ryouhara."

This only allows him to say it with extra conviction:
'Yes, the 'South shall not rise again,' commander.'

"Hrmph." Convinced he's made an airtight case, he only shakes his head at her, a little later. "...Anyway, don't be afraid. It's just my ninkougakujutsu. If I wanted it to, the enemy cutlet could destroy this entire floor, but we'll keep it for use in later jutsu."

Read: He's absolutely going to eat it when appropriate. Apparently, Shiryuu's oft-lamented disdain for expired food only applies to food not stolen from a powerful overlord of Christmas.

At least he has a chance to settle down after brushing his teeth.

'did we...make something new?"

Suddenly and sharply self-aware, the young man wets his lips as he shuts the water off. Even resting on his shoulder against the trim across the room, so far from her, he shifts uncomfortably, as if all of his parts aren't slid together in the right place, spurred with a sharp, angry, guilty pang by the idea of making something new.

With her.

"...I think we were the door to it," the onmitsu finally concludes, pushing the thought away. "The Mizunagi that's here is probably a shadow cast by the original. Or maybe it's the opposite. Perhaps it's a ship of Theseus. Perhaps the shadow will rot away with time, when the people forget about one or the other. We're looking into it."

His fingertips rub together absently as he lifts the light box and its colorful wrap off of her clothes. His touch lingers there; her fine sweater, and the reminder of what the shape of the morning was _supposed_ to look like.

Padding across the room to slide onto the bed across from her, there's a long, thin, rapier of a sigh, his anxious fingertips placating themselves with the simple curiosities at the edge of the wrap. "I... is it really appropriate, to do it this way? I should go get yours before..."

He's completely forgotten about his phone. [2 new messages]

Shiryuu is clearly not experienced with opening gifts, especially not on Christmas. Eventually he may be prodded to open it. Slowly, carefully, apologetically, glacially.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> The bruises do make Umie's brow bunch, as she makes a soft hiss under her breath. "Nevermind who made them, do you need me to get some pain patches or something?"

'Futhermore--' With every title, Umie's expression grows just a little more flat. "The guy tried to set me on fire while I was wearing my new sweater. The only 'route' he's going on is in the trash!"

A pause. "I guess if I can get the smell out it'll still be okay... I thought I looked really cute in it..." she mumbles, crossly.

'Anyway, don't be afraid. It's just my ninkougakujutsu.'

Umie squints back at the shihaisha as he further explains. "It's not the ningyogakubutsubutsu I was afraid of, it's the chicken contraband."

She *is* proud of that nonsense term, though at least she didn't say it was *Shiryuu's* ningyogakubutsubutsu. "Also, you throw out the specials I snag from Triple 7, but this is somehow okay? Hmph!"

At least she, also, gets a chance to simmer down after Shiryuu brushes his teeth.

The connotation of Umie's words skirts by her, the blonde briefly oblivious to the connotations.

Briefly.

The silence from Shiryuu makes her quickly realize.

"... I... think that's probably a little more reassuring," she concludes. "Otherwise... the Order would likely demand we both be hauled off into some secret lab or hospital somewhere, for testing." She swallows, nervously.

She wouldn't be surprised if that's what happened to the Bride.

As for the ship... "A ship of Theseus...? Like, I get the paradox, but..." A shadow, or a lingering memory. "Maybe a cost paid, to try to make up for the overreach," she quietly surmises. "There must be a ship, and we needed to be somewhere else."

She's unaware of how Shiryuu's fingers touch the sweater, thinking about the shape of the morning.

There was no shape, to her, other than the memory of his warmth in those blankets, his fingers worrying the hairs on the nape of her neck.

His weight sitting on the opposite side of the bed signals her to scoot, her crossing her legs so that she's facing his back.

She has likewise, forgotten Shiryuu's dinging phone.

"You said it wasn't finished yet," Umie teases.

She leans in, and gently, lands a soft, single kiss on his bare shoulder. "You can wait, if it makes you feel better. It's not going anywhere."

"But," she adds, as she draws away, "I would like to see your face, just so I know my intuition was right."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> Oh, that's not going to stop the bickering at all.

"Chicken contra--what! You'd better not be intending on throwing our power advantage by discarding a priceless o-cutlet with the latest technology!" Pause. "Wait, wh-- ningyo--Akabane! That doesn't make sense! What kind of hentai-shinobi crafts butted fish with boots!?"

Now they're just talking over eachother.
'Also, you throw out the specials I snag--' "_Nin kou ga-ku_--"

'--from Triple 7--' "Tokubetsu Great War Cutlet Secret Class A--"

Let's face it, it probably goes on like this for awhile.

What remains left is the sudden, violent tonal shift between the two as Shiryuu sits on the bed with the box on his lap. He is hyperaware of her presence at his back, as any dutiful shinobi would be--but for entirely different reasons.

"No, it is, but..."

It's hard to explain the exact chain of logic that kept the tiny box in Shibuya, and Shiryuu runs out of words before an attempt can mount itself, partly due to the warm kiss she plants at his shoulder, partly due to an idea that he's tangled up with.

His skin, predictably, is somewhat cold under her kiss, and a frisson of a chill chases across his skin with the soft landing, leaving a dusting of gooseflesh prickling across his arms and chest.

He is exceedingly careful not to tear the cloth as he delicately unties the furoshiki, sliding off the cover of the box inside to sit with the contents; nestled inside, a bundle of dense blue cloth, woven in a thick geometric crosshatch meant to invoke ichimatsu. The boy stares at it for awhile.

".... You know," Shiryuu comments, "until this year, I'd never known really what a gift even was supposed to be for."

Kiyoto and Takeshi were both capable caretakers, with ample spending money and his every need and want taken care of. Kiria gave him a mud pie once, when they were both younger. Certainly, in Sendai, he could dimly remember being sent any number of 'gifts,' the table in the backrooms filled with all manner of trinkets -- mouse ears and stuffed lions, copies of Alice in Wonderland, gaming handhelds and cake pops. More illicit substances, photos and articles of clothing than he'd care to admit. But..

Shiryuu lifts the small bundle out of the pack, recognizing the weave long before he even bothers to inspect the tag. "Saori," he identifies quietly, before slowly pressing the material deeply onto his face.

He can't remember anything of what any of that was supposed to mean. Did he care at all about those nameless, faceless people? It all seems lost as Shiryuu breathes in slowly.

"....you smelled great," the boy quietly says. "You looked great. Even now..."
Even after being seasoned. She may realize the grey-headed boy's absently replying to something she'd said upwards of ten or more minutes ago at this rate, before he was distracted with bickering with her. The boy breathes in and out slowly there for a few moments, his good eye closing.

"You always find a way.."

Then he lowers the scarf, laid delicately between two hands -- one below, one on top. It's really like the onmitsu's forgotten what all he was even doing -- most of the fight simply abandoning him.

He looks to the right in her direction, but not far enough over his shoulder to actually see her, regretfully. He has no idea how to behave or how to respond, having completely lost his train of thought. Instead.

"... did you.. want to have a slice of cake with me?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> The only person someone like Umie would put up with is someone she holds no illusions about, doesn't feel the need to impress, and especially someone just as stubborn and driven as she is.

And maybe, someone who is at least a little bit cursed.

Such a build of things would have to come with some 'downsides', if someone wanted to make a list and divide traits down a line of 'pro' and 'con' without considering all the sweetened complications nestled inside.

Umie bites back because the dance she weaves with Shiryuu demands it. His grander speeches, actions, wealth, and power mean less to her than the allowances he makes, the small nods and smiles, or the shouts that would mean nothing if she didn't know how painful it was for him to say it aloud.

They mean less, but they are not _meaningless_, as those parts form the canopy that shelter those parts she treasures, and gives them proper context, the contradictions, that form the whole. As someone who has been taunted with her own contradictory humanity for nearly half her life, it is precious to her.

... And why she kisses his shoulder, at that moment, when he struggles with the question of opening that box, and how to convey it.

She doesn't entirely understand it, but it endears her to him, much like the squeak Shiryuu heard earlier-- a concession that his grandstanding actually managed to hit her in just the right way, right when she didn't expect it.

"I've had tea, many times, and I've made tea for myself. Yet, when Ryouhara-kun makes tea for me, it tastes better." His skill is top-notch, in Umie's opinion, but that's not the point of it.

She bites back a proud smile, as Shiryuu seems to recognize the brand from the weave and quality alone, and how it feels against his face. "... When I saw that color and pattern, I knew."

'You smelled great. You looked great. Even now...' Umie's cheeks flush. Why did he have to come out with how she smelled, first, then how she looked?

But if he said it the other way, would her heart beat like it does now? ".... Thank you. You too... that sweater... it really suited you." The ripped up one. ".... I like the way you smell better now, though," she just has to point out. "... None of the chicken grease, covering all that up."

She lets the silence stay there, basking in the joy of giving something that communicated what she couldn't, in words.

It's a language Shiryuu also knows, as well.

"I'd love to," she says, bowing her head. "Do you want me to get a shirt for you?" Pause. "... As much as I appreciate it, the delivery person may get the wrong idea~"

She grins, cheeky as ever.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> It's something a little deeper than even that.

Shiryuu recognizes the weave as a SAORI-style, the small, intentional imperfections and the avant garde mixed textiles a telltale sign of the recent Parisian influences on Japanese designers. Underground, one of the newer names. Isagawa, maybe, after graduating but before he disappeared into the faceless 'MMM' in Paris.

But Shiryuu' appreciation extends deeper, and the deep breath he takes through the fabric is a story unto itself. Most of it is just the scent and fragrances of the shoppe the scarf came from, perhaps even a hint of the original birchwood of the loom. But it's hardly what he's looking for.

No, he catches the barest drift of her scent, from where she held the scarf close before she got it boxed up.

He realizes with some annoyance that it's why he can't seem to focus on a single thought, the smooth drift of her. It's also why he lets he impugn the eleven secret herbs and spices with no further objections, tucking a leg to slide into bed just so -- that he can place a hand at the thin of her waist and pull her into a brief, sweet kiss.

For a second, it occurs to him to be polite and say 'thank you.' "Ah... mmn," Shiryuu blinks, just now realizing exactly that he's not been wearing a shirt at all.

'Do you want me to get a shirt for you?'
"....??" Shiryuu looks -- "!"
"--er... sorry."
You pointed at your bruise and everything, Shiryuu.

'--the delivery person--' "!!"
"FU--"

There is absolutely no time to waste. Shiryuu immediately draws back, patting his pockets with the furor of a boy who left the oven on, his sprig of hair now standing shock straight with the force and vim of his new uprightness level. Pat pat. Where did it go?? It wouldn't be like him to just -- oh wait.

She was on top of him, and his phone was on his belly, and ended up somewhere in his sweater. Which means that it's...

Umie can see the dotted outline of Shiryuu's one good eye as he looks directly to the mass of blankets behind her. Unfortunately, because it is between her and him, when Shiryuu 'vaults over her to find it' it's more like 'tackles his girlfriend wholesale into the mattress.'

It would all be very romantic, if Shiryuu's hands were buried literally anywhere other than the absolute miles of comforter just past Umie. Maybe she gets out of the way. Maybe she can save herself from a life of being lodged somewhere between his neck and collarline. Maybe she can avoid the necessary headlock he'd have to put her in to get to his phone and send the cancel order --

.....(50 mins ago)
SBSN: i got in a fight left the med pkg in indigo
SBSN: i'm at the prince need it shukuchi fast
SBSN: zen omfg where are u i need the guys
lordlongjohn: What are you saying
SBSN: ZEN OMFG YOUL 2012 GET YOUR ASS IN GABLE
lordlongjohn: Calm down I'll call Nahara she's in Shibuya
SBSN: OMFG NOT HER
SBSN: DONT SEND HER
lordlongjohn: Lord Shirogarasu if you need assistance that bad it makes no sense to send a shinobi to Shibuya and back, I'm texting her
SBSN: YOU DONT UNDERSTAND
SBSN: THIS ISNT THE LIGHT SITUATION
SBSN: RIGHT* damn itrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrtffgh
lordlongjohn: Okay I've made arrangements. You should really get a phone with better autocorrect.

(40 mins ago) secretkissycode: SBSN-sama just got to indigo to get your meds and Con Fes Sion I peeked~.. You sneaky little devil boy, there's no medicine in here at alllll~. What a corrupt leader to implicate innocent me in your flirty schemes~. Ah life as an underling~. On my way~

"..._--CK_! Akabane, quick, hi--"

("Keycard~~!")

The sound of the door unlatching effortlessly shortly follows the musical lilt on the far side of the hall. Therein strides Raigarasu of Ryouhara -- she'd be on the short side if she didn't stride on on at least two inches of chunky heel. As it stands, the teal-green kunoichi enters like a nuclear launch, wearing a bright red cargo overcoat shining with yellow trim elements, and is literally spinning the keycard she used to hack the door off of a black glove on the end of a wire.

Oh yes. The door: "Door~!" she announces, as she hip bumps it open, midstride. It doesn't put up any more of a fight.

"Araaa, Shiryuu-san. I'll never understand why you need to be on the top floor of literally every hotel. You'd think someone who could teleport would just -pick one,- so we captains can have an easier --"

Nahara gets to just about the middle of the room before she spots Shiryuu and Umie. In the bed. With Shiryuu (Nahara: 'absolutely') (Shiryuu: 'not even half') naked, in the process of...!!

Nahara grins at both.
"I didn't know the scent of chicken was your thing. _Merry Christmas, my lovelies!_"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> '--er... sorry.' You're only enabling Umie's wickedness, Shiryuu. Her eyes are like merry half moons, glinting with an almost devilish shade of brown that borders on red.

"... You have nothing to apologize for," she says, finally, turning away from all the possible comments she could make.

This, too, is him revealing weakness, being that he rarely is seen this naked in any capacity. "I don't mind at all; I feel happy you feel that comfortable around me." Because it's the truth. It's one thing to steal tantalizing glimpses of someone she has feelings for, but it's another for that person to simply exist, bruises and all, even pointing to them as signs of his epic battle with the white-suited commander.

What *does* surprise Umie is Shiryuu's reaction to her mention of the mysterious delivery person. "Eh?" She tilts her head.

She has absolutely *no clue* what's about to happen, as Shiryuu furiously pats down his pockets. "Oh, I guess you'd have to pay... but wouldn't it just be added to the bill?"
( o o
>_e- - - - - - - >_>- - - - - - - - - - MISSING PHONE

".... Ah, your phone-- WAUGH--!!"

That is not the cry of someone who's just been tackled into a passionate embrace, because that's not what's happening here, at all. Umie knows it.

This has all the passion of an elderly lady haggling away at the last discounted box of dumplings.

And of course she doesn't get out of the way, because she's Umie. "Finally given into your passionate desires, I see," she teases, "Ahhhh, to be ravished on a Christmas date.... I'll be an innocent maiden no more at the tender age of twenty... oh please, Shiryuu, please be gentleHNRK~"

Again, Umie knows that is *not* what Shiryuu is intending here, but she has to punish him for his hubris in not just walking around the bed like a normal person.

After all, what sort of boyfriend puts his girlfriend in a headlock?

'Keycard~~'

With all the respect of a cat walking in on its owner in the bathroom, Nahara walks in. Umie instantly abandons her coy teasing for wide eyes and an awkward cough. "... not what it looks like," Umie manages, her face bright red.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> What is about to transpire next has not been approved by the Shirogarasu.

"This is no time for your unending sexiness, Akabane!!" Shiryuu talks across Umie, his face knit with cold determination and lit by the pale glow of the phone. He's got her in a full headlock, dove partway into her and trying to furiously text something, anything, before he realizes she can already hear them. Damn it.

"Ahaa.. found you out." She raises a black gloved finger, wagging it at Shirogarasu chidingly.

The teal green kunoichi does not at all look like a shinobi. Oh, certainly, she's wearing the cute little sash, done up with a giant hoop buckle and a tucked fold that has the 'RAI' kanji blazoned on the hem -- but that's literally where it ends. From the cyberpunk armor accents on the insteps of her heels, to the leggings that literally say 'LUNAR' printed in thick impact font down her right side to the glowing neon lemonade gold trim on her pocket-and-belt-infested red overcoat, absolutely everything else about her screams 'future!.'

You can even see when the HUD OS on her glasses boots up, a swirl of the Ryouhara leaves as she peers at Umie, for pete's sake.

The kunoichi purses her lips in pixie innocence at Umie as she gives the poor girl a minute to explain why she's in bed in Ryouhara bedclothes with the Ryouhara scion and currently heir-less boss on top of her. Bright. Shining. Completely innocent.

"So..." the sound of the wire winder in her glove buzzes, as the thoughtful kunoichi throws the Denkenshintenki into the air again idly, the keycard spinning in the air like a yo-yo before retracting, snapping back into her palm, the card caught and held at a quizzical angle close to her lips.

"You're ... ''not'' here to be... ravished," she uses the word cautiously when she asks, "...on a Christmas date?"

Nahara's glossy lips turn in muted disappointment.
"Well. That's no way to deal with rowdy boys."

At this point, Shiryuu will release Umie from her headlock, rolling onto his back on the bed in abject irritation. "This is Nahara," he tells Umie flatly, staring at the ceiling. "She has a death wish..."

"Mou~! Shiro-chan, that's not true!" Nahara objects. "I came running when Korozen told me you were compromised. And -- oh, he didn't lie did he?"

If Umie looks very closely, she can see the translucent display making an outline of her figure in the bed, three distinct sets of brackets finding her edges. Bust, waist, hips. The Shinshingankyou projects her clothing size, for later impersonations.

"...Ooo. I guess this is the first time we've met up close, isn't it..." she thinks of Umie. "Ah. The ideal Yamato nadeshiko refined figure," Nahara thinks aloud, clucking her tongue as she unclips the keycard to tuck into an inner pocket of her overcoat. "You're supposed to be resting your _eye_, Shiro-chan," she nags, to which Shiryuu stubbornly refuses to dignify with a response. "You're going to blow a fuse looking at this one all day."

Pause. "And that's _Raigarasu_ Nahara in front of the lady," she corrects. "I'm second-in-command after all~"

"No, you're not"

"Aaaa~!" Nahara complains, waving the crow off. "What's Shinkun-kun going to do? He's too busy with all of his boys~... that leaves me as the only remaining mistress in charge. You should be lucky to be visited by me with a word from that promiscuous Korozen, of all people."

"That reminds me." The teal-haired kunoichi reaches deep into a pocket clearly labeled (05) in her overcoat, and takes out a small, cloth-wrapped box, with a medician's red cross on the front. She scoffs at it. "Anyway~~ you don't have to call me Nahara-sama or Raigarasu-taichou right this minute," she informs Umie graciously and in no uncertain terms.

She offers up the gift in a flat palm, for who-so-ever-wants-to-take-it~
Shiryuu is busy not giving her the satisfaction, glaring daggers into the ceiling.

"Today, you can call me Santa-sama, but *just* for today, ne?"

The ceiling is full of daggers.
"Go away before I consign you to hell." "Mou~!"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'This is no time for your unending sexiness, Akabane!!' "So you *do* find me sexy~URK-" And that was the last anyone heard from poor, poor Umie Akabane.

'You're ... ''not'' here to be... ravished... on a Christmas date?'

Ah, so this is what it's like to be on the other end of it...

At least she's being released from that headlock, so she can properly respond! "Welll....." Umie's eyes look to the ceiling, her lips twisting as she considers her words. "I wouldn't say 'no' to a good time, but I think he was just looking for his phone." She grins, cheekily. "It just felt like an excellent occasion to give him trouble~"

'She has a death wish...' "I'm pretty sure people have said the same thing about me dating you, Shiryuu." With Shiryuu now flopped on his back and no risk of her bonking him in the head by rising, Umie rises her legs into the air and uses them to leverage the upper half of her body up. "'Compromised', eh... Technically, that *would* be true, as he got some food poisoning from that rumor statue that came to life. The one causing all the bad luck mojo going around." She straightens the samue top. "He selflessly rescued Sumaru City's luck from the evil commander, so that all hopeful couples can get 'lucky' tonight~"

"It definitely is. You likely already know, but I'm Umie. A pleasure to meet you." Umie does like this Nahara, definitely. Shiryuu may want to get Nahara out of here before the two of them properly sync and cause a surplus of chaotic gremlin energy.

That doesn't mean that Umie misses the outline reflected of herself in Nahara's glasses. "Don't they already have my measurements on file?" she asks, propping her upper half on her palms, behind her. "Or maybe they haven't updated those since I graduated... I'm sure I've gained a few inches here and there--"

'The ideal Yamato nadeshiko refined figure.' "Don't remind me," Umie sighs. "I'm sure--"

'You're going to blow a fuse looking at this one all day.'

Oh, Umie *really* likes this one.

"Raigarasu Nahara..." Umie tilts her head towards Shiryuu. "... And you're the shirogarasu..." Come to think of it, Umie must have heard Nahara's voice back then...

And the person she was talking to, then... that must have been 'Shinkun-kun'.

"Nahara-sama seems a little easier to say," Umie says, sitting up at the sight of the box. "Though now I know what to call you if I need you to bother Shiryuu about something~"

Her heart's beating fast, mostly because she didn't even expect it to be 'finished', whatever it was Shiryuu was planning on giving her.

Since Shiryuu isn't taking it, Umie does instead, standing up and walking over. "Thank you, Santa-sama~" Umie chirps, plucking the box from Nahara's hand, as Shiryuu makes his threat. "Seriously, though... thank you. If Shiryuu was still sick, I would have seen if I could get you to get some medicine for him. Even if he'd certainly never need it, because he's invincible."

She curles the box into her palm, her red nails keeping it protected, as her thumb feels the cloth with a thumb. Of course, he'd keep it hidden like this.

.... Or maybe it really is medicine. Or-- WAIT
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> "I don't care about other people," Shiryuu says flatly.
"What I said stands taller."
Unconscionable.

Shiryuu is laying flat on his back on the bed, arms folded cattily as he stares dead straight up, lips pressed together in a cold flat nonexpression. If looks could kill, anyone on the floors above would have needed to be evacuated from the way Ryouhara burns through the ceiling with his gaze, unwilling to give Nahara even an inch.

There is the distinct feeling in the air that violence might have broken out if it weren't for Umie being there. Nahara knows this -- and is clearly enjoying every second of it.

She blinks as Umie replies, the gilded edge of the keycard lowering from her lips. 'I think he was just looking for his phone.' "Aaa ..." she vocalizes softly, understandingly as she leans over by the slightest inch, a fist planting on her hip as she stares at Umie with wide, sharply inquisitive pale gold eyes.

"...But," Nahara is thinking aloud, full of youthful, chaste inquiry, "I wonder in exactly which hidden spots he was looking for this _phone_...?"

The girl's conspiratorial hint hangs in the open air.

Letting it breathe, Nahara grins after a second.
"...don't let boys take charge so easily."

"Don't tell her _anything_," Shiryuu complains at Umie with all of the urgency of an interrogation subject, sharply looking over as she kicks back upright in the bed, only snapping back to the ceiling when Nahara gives him an even, quick glance.

It's really too late. Akabane is already blabbing. "Of course you did," Nahara replies, clapping her gloves together happily. Note that somewhere in the exchange 'he' became 'you,' as in 'you two.' -- Nahara's patiently putting Umie right back in the same box as her illustrious leader by assigning her an equal share of the credit -- or the blame. "We'd heard about a supralunar attack, but we thought you'd have it under control. And -- you know --"

She swirls a finger in the air, illustratively. "Fried chicken isn't my thing..."

"Who trusts _those_ files?" Nahara clucks her tongue, unwilling to say the word 'Order.' "Measurements taken by a bunch of depressing shut-ins. Tainted data will never be part of any database _I_ make. If I'm going to be Umie Ryouhara, or Nahara Akabane to implicate you in crimes, I need to make sure my information is just right. I suppose I'd need a wig, though -- I'd have to match the color, and my hair isn't quite long enough for the..." she makes an elaborate aqueezy-hands mime at about bun level. "Dee seven bee eh ay five?" she thinks, while doing so. "Hello Bubble Ash Beige? No -- more like Blonde Brown..."

Mm. She's getting ahead of herself.

To that end, Nahara's slightly taller than Umie but likely not by an awful lot and only once the lift from her heels are taken out of the equation. She is, however, entirely pleased when Umie takes point, taking the gift from her. "Aaa~" she all but purrs, hands returning to her hips. "What a polite young lady. I'll put you on my 'special nice list' for this year. Santa-sama's always watching, you know. Speaking of the naughty list, though --"

She points over Umie's shoulder.
"He just peeked at your legs a minute ago." "I DID NOT"

She waves a hand at Shiryuu easily. "And to think all of those times we poisoned him went to waste?" she thinks aloud of Umie's ask. "A bite of spice or two shouldn't get invincible Shirogarasu-sama in that poor a state... oh well!" She absolutely doesn't care. "Thank you for taking care of him! I'll have some bedding and maybe some other things sent up, I'd really love to stay and show you two a thing or two but... well, I really should go back and untie *my* Christmas date, ne?"

(No one ever asked what _Nahara_ was doing on her Christmas, obviously. It's a lie, obviously -- she's not going to untie him. She has work to get done too!)

"Of course, I could be troubled to," Nahara thinks, "if you need a rating on exercising crow's privilege to really put him through the mat--ie!!" "Time to go--!!" "OH~ destructive! Hishinmeisen's string is not meant to be used like this Shirogarasu-sama! You should save these moves for your girlfrie--" "Get--urgh--out!"

That is the story of poor Nahara, physically tied up, drug to the door and thrown out on her neon ass. After which, Shiryuu slides the wastebasket after her into the hall.

"I wasn't peeking!" Shiryuu tells Nahara with finality, then slams the door and shims it shut with a chair.
From the other side of the door: "Keep telling yourself that~"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Violence may have broken out otherwise, but it's Umie's presence that spurred Nahara needing to come here with the precious package.

Where was Shiryuu looking for his phone in, Nahara asks. "The boring spots," Umie says, with a shrug. "Not the fun spots."

'"...don't let boys take charge so easily.'

Umie grins, closing one eye as she taps her chin with a red nail. "Who said he was in charge?"

... It was fun, pretending he was there to 'ravish' her, knowing that he was instead driven by that single-minded desire to get to his phone instead.

All until Nahara was there to witness it all. But, on the other hand, Umie got to meet Nahara! And she *likes* Nahara.

Hence the babbling.

"I guess so," Umie hums, now rubbing the back of her neck, unsure of what to do with that hidden praise (or blame, as it were). "I like it, every once in a while--" She realizes, as she holds her right hand to rub the back of her neck, the wrist is bare, exposing her Mark. She tries not to make much of it, hoping that those 'files' already had mention of it. "The bucket of chicken I had got soaked, along with my nice sweater."

Hence the samue, but Umie doesn't say that, either.

"If you get to pose as me, do I get to pose as you?" She touches her hand to her chin, thoughtfully, examining Nahara over. "I'd have to get used to walking in heels that tall, though... and the clothing'd be hard to match... But..." she continues, letting the hand drop from her chin, "Nahara-sama would never do something like that. That would be the actions of a Nahara-san..."

SPEAKING OF NAUGHTY

"Oh was he..." She leans in, conspiratorially. "I always suspected he was all about the legs..."

ha ha ha that poisoned thing is a joke, ha ha ha happy joke time, ha ha ha Umie is looking at Shiryuu, trying to read from his expression if it's a joke or not.

"The night's still young," she answers back, semi-distracted by the feel of the package in her hands, trying not to think about whether this is an actual date Nahara is talking about, or...

... a victim.

*WHAM*

When he shoves that chair under the door handle, by the time he looks around, Umie is sitting on the bed, legs folded, cupping the wrapped 'present??' in her palm.

"I figured I'd wait for you, just in case it's just some nausea medicine."

She grins at him, and pats the space next to her on the bed. "You did imply the present wasn't finished yet."

Yet, if she's allowed, she'll open the package up anyway, carefully, trying to hide the excitement on her face.

Don't ruin it by getting your hopes up, Umie.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> 'Who said he was in charge?'

Nahara grins, a glossy, finished smile. "Aaa. Polite, fun little Shibuya," she thinks of her warmly, putting her best foot forward for her contemporary's examination gracefully. Answering wonder with wonder, the kunoichi has no problem stretching all the way out for Akabane's examination. "You're absolutely right. Always shoot higher than the moon," the kunoichi tells her.

Part of the show is just for the dance, isn't it?

"That way no one can split your arrow."

There is a flicker across the teal-haired kunoichi's glasses, outlining the shape of Umie's wrist. Nahara with her thin, knowing smile doesn't appear to pay it any mind.

Unfortunately for Umie, Shiryuu is of absolutely no help in determining whether he was genuinely poisoned or not -- he's too busy filling the ceiling with daggers and pointedly not looking at Umie's legs. He's not letting her win.

Either of them.

'I always suspected he was all about the legs..'

"That's the spirit!" To that end, Nahara titters devilishly, keeping the half-hand cuff of her glove just below her chin. Ah, but she's already starting to get distracted by Shiryuu's little toy. "You know, I think," she appraises, "you'll do just fine, Shibuya-san."

'The night's still young..'
"Make sure to take hold of everything you want guiltlessly...ne?"

To Nahara's merit, she does manage to get off a giggling 'I'll call you~' hand symbol and a wink to Umie over Shiryuu's shoulder as he physically picks her up and forces her out.

The young man only breathes once the door is locked and barred, his hands on either side of the frame as he finally relaxes, letting the tension drain from his spine.

"The Ryouhara clan is filled with scoundrels," Shiryuu grouses finally.

Padding across the room, Shiryuu finally rejoins Akabane, turning to first kneel, and take a seat next to her. "For all of that, it had better not be," the onmitsu realizes in deep, deep dread.

Luckily, even though Nahara peeked, she did a marvelous job of not adulterating the package -- the outer layer is only the part that keeps it from being conspicuous. Had it actually been handed to Shiryuu, he would have taken the tied cloth off of it first. Beneath the medician's guise, there is a more elaborate cloth, patterned in dark blue with a starfield pattern in the Subaru grouping. Unwrapping this, a delicate wooden box has a rudimentary latch -- and then finally, a small pendant, at the very end of it all.

Contrary to implications otherwise, it doesn't _seem_ unfinished. It's a tooled pendant, lightweight and made of a dark grey type of matte pewter metal. Though it was at one point clearly meant only to hang from the short jewelry chain included with it, a small clip mechanism has supplanted it. It's made of wound concentric circles, the centermost ring capturing in its settings a droplet of jadeite, so pale and polished so as to almost be entirely translucent. When the outer ring is twisted, it makes a satisfying click, spreading apart in three sections to open into a tripartite shape, letting a thin amount of light in around the setting and allowing the stone to shine. It is also clearly either handmade, or modified heavily from some other design.

His fingers tie up in the knees of his clothing, bunching the fabric up until the wrap binding his ankles is prominent.

"...Ah..." Shiryuu says, more than a little anxious over it.
"Um.. I suppose I got tied up thinking I would take you somewhere you liked in Shibuya to find an outfit you liked that would go with it.."
The best laid plans of mice and men.

He also completely forgets to say anything like 'Merry Christmas.' It was right there, man.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Welp, it seems that 'Shibuya' has become Umie's nickname.

Umie's not complaining; a nickname is better than Nahara freely spreading Umie's name around.

But in the end, it's all just part of the dance.

"Always." She'll aim her arrow high and claim her goal.

..... The biggest goal of all, however, remains covered by fog. What is the Mark? Who is Mai-chan? Who is Nyarlathotep? How do all of these relate to each other? Will she become like that man locked away, eventually? If she's lasted nearly ten years...

How does something that summoned a childhood friend also help to create a door?

Don't think about such things, Umie Akabane. It's Christmas, and the person you love is half-naked and--

DON'T THINK ABOUT THAT EITHER UMIE

"She's cute," Umie muses idly, as Shiryuu disparages his family clan. "Shibuya-san, huh... I don't dislike it, as a nickname."

She now turns her attention to the mysterious little present, slipping off its medicinal disguise to reveal the cloth underneath, pausing to recognize and admire the pattern before she carefully undoes the wrapping.

Her eyes glint at the equally mysterious wooden box, situated on her lap in the unwrapped fabric. A puzzle box? Ah, no, there's a latch, which she undoes.

She draws her breath in, cupping the pendant in the palm of her hand, running the pad of her thumb over the pewter, rings, the pale jadeite centered in the middle. "...?" With a barely audible note of curiosity in her held breath, she discovers that the outer ring can be twisted. Like a worry ring, maybe?

The ring clicks, and Umie's eyes widen, slightly, leaning her head closer in interest.

The wan jadeite now shines, like a small moon given access to a ray of reflected sunlight.

It's beautiful.

"You made this... for me." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "Didn't you."

A man who haunted her thoughts, driving her to explore Mementos with the goal of beating him at his own game....

Who won, in the end?

She draws her eyes back to Shiryuu, who is obviously anxious.

"... It's beautiful," she says, gently, fiddling with the clip on the back to clip it on her samue. "Honestly, I'm... god..." She wants to cry.

However, with that happiness comes a tickle of fear that something will come, to prick the bubble of that joy prematurely. Would it be out of jealousy, maliciousness, or just plain sadism?

She takes a moment to reassemble herself, and her emotions.

"That gives us an excuse for another date," she manages to say next, as she leans in, gently touching her left hand against Shiryuu's jawline, leaning in to plant a lingering kiss against his cheek.

Did she say Merry Christmas? She can't remember. "Though, right now, what I'd especially like... is to have cake with you."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> "She's an incorrigible tyrant," Shiryuu says, at first refusing to give Nahara the benefit of any doubt. "But," he does concede, "she's the best at what she does."

After all, there is a reason why he put her and O-Shinkun at the opposing compass points. Their entire nature is to act as a check on one another, and in turn, him. The institution of the Ryouhara Yongarasu is one that Shiryuu has at least some grudging respect for.

But the young man is ultimately eager to push any thought of that exhausting experience out of his head -- his hands tightening restlessly at his knees quickly replaces whatever other concerns he might have had, as his gaze wanders, skating over her hands as she opens the box.

If he were ever going to say anything about Christmas, he immediately forgets watching her.

His expression softens as Akabane enjoys the entirety of his attention, the sound of her voice and the way she turns the jadeite ornament to open it. His eye lingers along the softened lines of her, a distant part of him remembering to be concerned about the tone of her voice, though it's debatable if he really even understands why.

She was .. asking something, right?

"...aaa?" Shiryuu recalls lamely, a shuttered blink of a single eye moving his train of thought along slowly.

'You made this for me... didn't you.' "...um."

It's the most eloquence you're getting out of him.

Normally, Shiryuu would have a lot of opinions. About the nature and danger of supralunar powers, and how they relate to people. He'd explain that he made the pendant to be safe to wear as long as it's closed, that it won't catch the eye of anyone in battle. That it's meant to be opened and held up to the moon, to remember that he thinks of her when he looks at that same moon now.

He'd thought very carefully about what he wanted to say to this person that he loves.

"...ah."

No chance of it now. Sad.

Shiryuu is only broken out of it when she leans in, turning him pliantly into a small kiss on the cheek, and it's only that warmth that triggers him, making Ryouhara sharply, painfully aware of exactly how out of sorts he is. "--ah," he repeats, for emphasis. "S-sorry.." She said something about another date. Right. Cake. Oh! Cake. "I--it sounds good," he says, in that smooth, meandering fashion.

A short, sharp, minty puff of air as the young man releases the breath caught in his chest. This time, at the very least, he _doesn't_ put his girlfriend in a headlock, leaning into her space to reclaim that saori scarf, hidden carefully from prying eyes underneath a blanket the moment they were interrupted.

His hand slides into the box, feeling the little imperfections if the weave, an arm around Akabane to reach. It puts him very, deeply close to her.

In that space, while trying to focus on literally anything but her sweet, crisp scent, Shiryuu can finally consciously recall with some clarity what Umie might have been saying to him. 'What I'd especially like... is to have cake with you.'

"...I'd like that, too..." he says, deeply unaware he's repeating himself. "It's, um... the concierge is holding onto some for me, since their fridge is colder... I'll just get dressed, and..."

He hasn't actually recovered his gift from the box behind her yet, his hand still slid into it. He has however, leaned further into her silhouette, until there's no practical difference between hers or his.

When his kiss finds its circumspect way to her lips, it's much warmer than warm, and finally, after an agonizing forever, there's nothing left between them to get in the way.

"...I'll need to get dressed," Shiryuu tries to think. Don't kiss her again, Ryouhara. "..and.."
They'll have cake in a few minutes.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> For every moment of happiness, there is a price.

The less that she hears or sees Mai-chan's presence, the more she wonders when her childhood friend will show up, and how.

And when even that doesn't gain a response, she wonders if that, in itself, is a prelude to a fall, a way to build someone up so that the fall will be so much more spectacular.

Weeks from now, this suspicion may be proven right.

But all that is for later. Tonight is for them.

Shiryuu may struggle with eloquence, but Umie's not that much better. Thankfully, she knows enough to find Shiryuu's tied tongue a sign of his feelings.

His actions often speak louder than words, his arm drawing Umie close, aided by Umie melting into the smell and cool press of him, stray blonde bangs draping around his shoulder closest to her.

Something about the concierge, and the fridge.

Hm.

'I'll just get dressed, and...'

Maybe there's a way to do that without him leaving. Hm. Hm. Umie will have to think about it, as her lips cross with his.

Hm.

Another kiss, to think on it.

He'll need to get dressed.

The cake can wait, she decides. "Just a few minutes..."

Shiryuu's lips are sweet enough, she decides.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> It's been a long morning, an even longer afternoon. If you were to stack up every ill conceived thing, every poor, embarrassing little contrivance one upon the next and then set that stack against the miracles of the moment, one will assuredly find the match lopsided.

It's in that miracle of a moment they have to hide, with the onmitsu trying to pluck a single coherent thought from the aether and only finding a few more reasons to indulge, the bass-deep involvement of his breath a steady tempo against her. One kiss becomes two, and once paired, they only want for more company.

One could be forgiven even now, for waiting for that other shoe to drop.

But Shiryuu Ryouhara is nothing if not stubborn, letting his mind drift to the feel of his person's hair sliding along his bare shoulder. Nahara was, anoyingly, right about one thing. He was paying _far_ more attention to Umie than he was willing to admit, and her words, unbidden, choose right now to ghost back along his consciousness.

"Mm.. hey.."

It's somewhere between the third kiss, and when his hand slides his own gift along the small of her back. Inconveniently, it means that Shiryuu doesn't have much support anymore, and they are slowly moving across the bed.

"...'d you mean.. 'I'm not looking in any of the fun places'...?"

To Nahara's credit, she is not half the cruel mistress she claims to be -- once she gets downstairs, she'll have new bedding sent up to the room, along with a cake she should absolutely, could absolutely not have known about. Of course, she also sends a few other things.

For Shiryuu; a few bottles of Pocari, and a pack of medicine. It's for stomach discomfort.

For Umie; a heating pad, and a pack of medicine. It's for the morning after. Lord knows how she got it from the pharmacy.

(And for Nahara herself? The most expensive bottle of designer Aramasa sparkling sake she can find. To go, also charged to the room. Gift wrapped. For New Years. Business expense. Obviously.)

But all of that's a little later on, still.

Even if the two will likely find their way off the entire other side of the bed in their mutual distraction, and through a few more unlucky pieces of furniture aside.

Shiryuu will have enough time to argue with Umie, and be scandalized in turn. Right now, the boy is exactly where he wants to be.

'Just a few minutes,' she says...

"....yeah," Shiryuu agrees, somewhere in the middle of it.
</poem>
[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-08-22: The Heart of the Matter

2026-08-24T01:53:33Z

Tanyuu:

*'''Log: The Heart of the Matter'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Hana Fukami]], [[Umie Akabane]]
*'''Where:''' Lotus Plaza, Rengedai Ward, Sumaru City
*'''OOC Date:''' August 22, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 28, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''Hana Fukami just wants to find some nice floral scents. Instead, she encounters 'Kokoro Akechi', a completely normal young woman who seems to be just passing by, who has nothing important to say, at all, except... 'look out for yourself'. Isn't that what she's doing?''

----

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
Kaori is a beautiful shop, both visually and in smell. Miss Kaori is here today, talking with a customer this morning, where Hana Fukami is also here--her show is only on weekdays, so she's enjoying some time off. The greenery in the shop only enhances the beauty of the white walls and the shelves of scented products. Aromatherapy is said to cure what ails you, here...

And Hana could go for that today.

Hana is a tall woman in pink, with deep black hair. She happens to be checking over a shelf at the moment, picking something out for someone--

But the Resonant will... detect nothing from her; she has no Persona. Someone like Umie, though, might sense the stormclouds of gathering misfortune...

Or maybe she'll just recognize her from TV.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "You're... Ms. Fukami, aren't you?"

The voice comes from someone standing shorter than Hana is. Dressed in a pink baseball cap, clear frame classes, black leggings, a sporty jacket, large earrings which stand out against long, black, straight hair, she wouldn't look too out of place in a shopping mall that caters to youthly incomes and the time to idle around and spend it.

Fashionable, but not so much that she'd be noticed.

The look in the girl's eyes, however, feels more sober than the carefree young adult she portrays.

Briefly, that is, before her mask goes back on.

"I never thought I'd see a TV star here..." she cooes, eyes wide. "My mom totally loves your show! She talks about it all the time."

These are lies; she's the one who watches the show, occasionally, as she painted and fussed over her paper maiche masks.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
Hana turns without seeming surprised; she's gotten good at dispelling the instinct to blink when someone addresses her out of seemingly nowhere. "That's right,' she says as she turns. She smiles immediately, looking over how ''cute'' Umie's look is.

But that sober look...? What is it?

"I think 'star' might be overselling it," she demurs gently, "But I am on TV! Even people who appear on shows like nice-smelling places." She beams. "I'm happy to hear that! I'm lucky to have a lot of moms in my audience."

"What's your name?" she asks.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "I mean, if I tell Mom I saw you, you might as well be," Umie quips with a cheeky grin. "Well, your show *is* named Flower Talk, so I imagine it'd only be natural you'd be here, right?"

There is something of the Badb that drives the young woman here, a heartbeat of bad fortune that calls to the blackbird like footsteps on worn, mud-strewn ground. Alas, this is not a battlefield of blood, but of words, and Umie will have to mask herself properly if she wishes to extend her warning to the TV hostess without coming off looking like the threat herself.

The outfit was already there, being she was snooping for any hints of the Joker Cursed, but the identity needed a name. Obviously she--

...
(... no Umie didn't bother to think of a name.)

There is a perfume behind Hana's shoulder, a lovely shade of red in the shape of a heart.

"Kokoro--"

She obviously can't go with Akabane. It needs to be something believable. The codename Tamaki gave her was Mitsuhide, and the first name of figure was...

"--Akechi." Shit.

".... No relation to the second coming of the Detective Prince, of course," she adds, without missing a beat.

No going back now. Just deal with it, 'Kokoro Akechi', this is your fate, now.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
"That's true!" Hana says warmly. "I really like this place." Unaware of what Umie is sensing, it's true that Hana feels a little under the weather, a little bothered by something despite her pleasant family interactions today. But the name! A name... like...

It ''could'' be a real name. It really could! ...it probably isn't. But that's fine.

"Are you a fan of his?" Hana wonders. "He's very charming."

"Then, Akechi-san, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Hana turns for a moment, to look at the heart-shaped perfume, and then back to Umie. No, 'Kokoro'.

She smiles. "Either way, I like to come here to get ahead of stress..."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> To be fair, it's not that Umie would exactly know either; while there is nothing about Hana that would note Umie's senses as going off due to calling the Old Maid, Umie can't rule it out, either.

A lack of evidence is not the same as evidence.

Is Umie a fan of Akechi's? "Oh, you met him?" she says instead, sidestepping the question. "From what I've seen on TV," she says, "he's certainly very charismatic."

Umie's attempt to reassert confidence is waylaid by being addressed as 'Akechi-san', a further complication that she did not foresee.

She *could* give up, give her vague warning, and split. But what sort of help would that be?

"Please, call me Koko-san. I don't need more people to think I'm related to him..." She puts her hands to her cheeks, shaking her head. "It's so embarrassing..."

At least, Hana seems to be rather accepting, moving along with the obviously fake name.

And so, Umie does the same, her hands going to her pockets. "Iie...." she murmurs, eyelashes dropping to a relaxed level. "What sort of scents do you tend to like then, Fukami-san?"

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
As it happens, Hana hasn't called the Old Maid--but Umie has no way to tell, really.

"On TV, of course," Hana clarifiess, though it's true that she met him in person. "He is!"

A further complication... but, "Koko-san it is," she answers, and listens to the rest. It's embarrassing, isn't it? "Aww, I'm sorry to have contributed," Hana says, though--

Well, no, she doesn't ''buy'' it, but she's willing to rent it; she has no reason to cause a scene and confront Umie about it.

Instead, "Hmm... Well, is it sterotypical if I say floral?" she asks. "Today I was looking at the Dianthus flower's scent," she says. A flower relating to love and affection. ...For some reason.

"Are you familiar?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Indeed. Umie's sense of 'bad luck' extends to so many corners. There's the influence of the 'Joka dragon', the 'Joker Curse', and all the ones that just don't seem to fit...

At least there's no kegare that Umie can sense, just yet.

'On TV,' Hana clarifies. "Ahhh. For a moment, I thought you were able to snag him for your show..."

She puts a little more effort in appearing saddened by this; it's not that Umie didn't care, but that she's fine enough with the amount of exposure she has now. It's certainly more fun, besides, to talk on and on about weird supernatural concepts in a way she's only been able to with people like Tamaki.

"I wouldn't say that, no," Umie says, of Hana's answer. "There's a lot of floral scents out there, though... what ones are you looking at, then...?"

Dianthus. Nadeshiko.

Yamato nadeshiko, the ideal Umie plays so well, that she formed another person to get away from it.

Umie fights the compulsion to make a face. "Mostly from the phrase 'yamato nadeshiko'," she says, shifting back to her left foot. "I'm sure some man out there would love it if I resembled something like that, but let's be real; I prefer being more 'scents-sible'." umie no

"But nevermind me," she says, flipping her hair back. "What draws you to it?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
"If we do, I'd have to keep it secret until it aired~!" Hana answers cheerfully. "So maybe one day."

But Umie wouldn't say it. "I'm glad," she says. Her name, after all, is floral. So it would be fine if it were stereotypical accordingly. But she explains Dianthus... and of course, Hana plays that role well, too.

No, there's no especial amount of kegare that Umie can sense from Hana that's any more than the usual background noise. But really at taht phrase....

"Ah, yes," Hana says. "Men often do." She laughs faintly at 'scents-sible'. "So you'd rather follow your own path, mm? Respectable."

"...its meaning of love and affection," Hana says. "I have someone waiting for me back in Tokyo."

"Not that he's not going to wait a bit longer, of course; i was here visiting family."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Ahh, not even a tiny hint?" Umie grins, clapping her hands together once. "I get it though. That's a mark of a true professional~"

Even, at that phase... so far, she's only been able to detect someone right when they were about to transform, or... afterward, neither of each Hana is doing now.

It *is* disturbing how it feels like everywhere in Sumaru City has a small degree of that 'taint' now; had it always been there, or is it new?

Maybe, it's all a figment of Umie's imagination, yet another delusion being fed to her by that thing named 'Nyarlathotep'.

She squints. "Oh, right, your first name... it's Hana, isn't it? No wonder you were asking." She places a finger to her chin, thoughtfully. "People must assume it means 'flower'..." Much like people would assume 'Umie' was relating to the ocean, or 'rabbit'.

Or the moon.

She'll follow her own path. "I suppose, you could say that."

There's another meaning a dianthus could have, however...

'I have someone waiting for me back in Tokyo.' Umie's expression softens slightly. "It's a wonderful feeling, isn't it?"

What if that's where Hana's bad luck may come in, Umie supposes. But to assume that, and then had it be something else...

'Why don't you tell her, instead of pretending to be a part of her world, Umie-chan?'
It has to be a delusion. Or...
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
Hana smiles. "Of course." No hints!

It could all be Umie's imagination! Hana, certainly, seems in good spirits right now. There's no sign but intuition of her impending bad luck.

"That's right," Hana confirms of her first name. "The kanji it uses ''can'' mean 'flower'," she says, "Though in this case it's more 'blooming'."

But she's good at saying things. Umie clearly wants to be independent--conformists don't as often use fake names.

"It is," Hana agrees. It's a little complicated; she can't share everything about it. But, "So you have someone, too? ...Or have, in the past?"

She smiles back. "Well, there are other nice scents, too. I'm thinking also..."

"Chamomile and Hyacinth."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie makes a play at hesitating, as if waiting for Hana to relent and let some little hint through.

It's all a joke, of course, a way to play the personality of 'Kokoro Akechi'.

The 'heart', you could say.

"Blooming..." The connotations could swing between life, flowers, spring... or the eruption of something that was best allowed to keep closed.

Either is reading too much. The name 'Umie Akabane' had everything to do with blackbirds, red, and wings, but who is she, that is here, before Hana?

Who is Hana Fukami, and what is to be her fate?

Well, for one thing, Hana is a normal person who does not just gush about her 'bond', as Shiryuu would term it.

Umie's willing to share a little, because it's been a source of pleasant distraction during a tense time.

"Yes," Umie admits, and by the way she says it, she at least believes it to be true. "Very much in the present, thankfully. We just celebrated Christmas together."

It feels good, to say that, and not have it be a lie.

"Chamomile... I know about the tea, but Hyacinth... that sounds like a pretty floral scent." She knew some symbolism of some flowers, but this was largely Jun's field of specialty. "What do those symbolize?"

Maybe there's meaning there...

Or maybe, she's too cowardly to say what she wants to say, in favor of playing the lie.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
No. No relenting!! Just a smile.

Instead, she considers Umie--Kokoro's--talk of Blooming, but brightens as she decides to share instead. "That's wonderful!" Hana answers. "We did, too. And then for the new year we have ourselves and some very good friends for the coming year..." She's fond of all.

"Mine is a weatherman at the station," she says conspiratorially. "He played baseball in university, and still keeps up his game."

But... florals!

"Honestly it's less for what they symbolize and more for what they do; despite the fact that I'm enjoying my time with my loved ones greatly, it's a... hectic, time of year, and i'm looking into scents that will help me relax and enjoy what I have."

"After all, it's important to be present in the moment, don't you think?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Celebrating with someone you love, having plans for New Years' celebrations with friends.

None of this speaks of someone in 'danger', if 'bad luck' were to mean that, and that's assuming if Umie were to believe the sorts of information another woman would leak to another, stranger or no.

If anything, Hana would have incentive to dress everything up as perfect. The woman didn't seem like the sort that would openly complain about life's little setbacks to anyone that would listen, and as a hostess, that's a very good trait to have.

That conspiratorial hush prompts Umie to lean in with an eager nod; she presses a few red-nailed fingers to her lips. "... Ahhh... A guy like that can be hard to find... Very lucky, indeed."

'Bad Luck' didn't mean 'danger', right? Aside from the few things that have happened recently, Umie rarely, if ever, gained confirmation that things did go bad, unless it happened recently.

"I... probably will be working, to be honest. My boyfriend can be absent-minded," she admits. "And I took off Christmas Day to be with him. It was a good date, though... in spite of... I guess you could call it bad luck? I'm not sure if you were here when it happened, but it just seemed like everything went wrong in Aoba Ward."

Hectic, huh... Do tell, Hana. Umie considers this with a quiet expression, pursing her lips.

"It really can be hectic..." she admits. "Sometimes, it's easy to get wrapped up in the symbolism and language of things and not focus in the now." Like she's doing now, Umie reflects.

"It sounds like you're having a bit of bad luck yourself, but you're keeping your chin up in spite of it."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
"Thank you!" Hana answers, smiling back. "He was. Or rather, he found me first..."

But she doesn't go into the ''whole'' story. She could. But a casual conversation would call that oversharing...

"Ahh. I work during the day primarily," Hana says, "So I can usually enjoy the evening, sleep needs aside. We will be airing on New Years', of course."

absent-minded... "Hmmm. I did hear some strange things happened in Aoba," she says. "That it was a very unlucky day for everyone. Maybe it was Sumaru's time of Joka?" She is of course familiar with Wang Long. Obviously.

"But I'm glad your date was good. I hope you can see him a lot."

But sometimes... "Yes," Hana agrees. "It's important to live your life as it is, too."

But... "Oh, not me," Hana says, and looks a little distant. "I just have friends I worry about."

"...You never know what some people are dealing with, after all."

A beat, "But, Koko-san, it's been lovely to meet you."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'He found me first...' That comment causes Umie to give Hana a lopsided little smile. "I guess I could say the same went for me and my boyfriend..."

... in that Umie and Shiryuu first met on a beach! .... and tried to kill each other (well, one side more than the other).

To overshare... it certainly would be, and it's not as if the possibility of it being a lie would be dispelled.

However, the absence of confirmation does not constitute evidence of lying.

"It sure was. My boyfriend got food poisoning and everything," Umie laughs. "But it just meant I got to pamper him a little." Shiryuu would forgive her if her smile was a little sharp there, right?

"But... that's really what it's all about, right? Spending time with people you love, even if those times aren't picture perfect."

Time of Joka... Well, that would make things easier as a means of explanation.

Friends she worries about...?

"Mmn." Umie's eyelashes lower, her lips pursing. "I see." If her senses weren't tingling, she'd not be combing through all of this looking for clues. Would she have even approached?

... honestly, yes, she would have, and she would have asked for an autograph. Hana *did* keep the blues away during her lonelier days, just by being a face on daytime TV, after all.

"Just... remember to keep an eye on yourself, too. You never know when it's your time of Joka."

It's not like Umie could give Hana her burner phone's number. That worked with Maria, but it wouldn't work with someone older than her.

"And yes, it's been great to meet you too. Who knows, we might meet again sometime--"

She points to a flyer for a sale. "There's a sale going on next week, after all."

With a wink and a nod, 'Kokoro' leaves to go look at some unrelated stock, just long enough for Hana to leave.

... after which she goes to test out that heart-shaped perfume. Maybe something she could wear for Shiryuu....?
</poem>
[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-08-23: Connecting Threads

2026-08-24T01:51:35Z

Tanyuu: Created page with "*'''Log: Connecting Threads''' *'''Cast:''' Umie Akabane, Jun Kashihara *'''Where:''' Lotus Plaze, Rengedai Ward, Sumaru City *'''OOC Date:''' August 23, 2026 *'''IC Date:''' December 29, 2012 *'''Summary''': ''As Jun and Umie catch up on leads concerning love and the Joker Possessed (which are unrelated topics), they find themselves at impasse: if the Order is trying to collect the Possessed, what could it be for? The only people would could answer that would be..."

*'''Log: Connecting Threads'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Umie Akabane]], [[Jun Kashihara]]
*'''Where:''' Lotus Plaze, Rengedai Ward, Sumaru City
*'''OOC Date:''' August 23, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 29, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''As Jun and Umie catch up on leads concerning love and the Joker Possessed (which are unrelated topics), they find themselves at impasse: if the Order is trying to collect the Possessed, what could it be for? The only people would could answer that would be agents themselves. It'll have to be Jun that asks, however, as Umie strangely is hesitant to do so herself...''

----

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Laaast Christ-mas, he gave you bad luck~
But the ver-y next day, the Colonel's a-way~

(And good riddance.)
The Lotus Plaza still has their Christmas decor up, though the sales and incentives have all moved from promises of love and Christmas romance to New Years celebrations and cheer. The machine of capitalism never stops, never sleeps, always wanting more.

It wasn't too long ago that Umie was here herself, if in the disguise of 'Kokoro Akechi', which is a name Umie hopes shall never come up again. She'll need to think of a list of better names that will be as easy to remember.

Here, she's going as Umie Akabane, her ash blonde hair in twin buns, the excess in long bangs framing her face. The outfit is similarly her usual: accessories like small gold earrings, her lucky red charm bracelet, a red ribbed turtleneck, white winter jacket, jeans, and sneakers.

Waiting at a bench near a fountain, Umie glances at her phone before looking at a mother and her small son, the latter placing a coin in the fountain.

She smiles, discreetly looking back at her phone in case either notice; with how excited (but polite, after the mother reminds him to use his inside voice) the child is, it's likely neither of them notice any of the infectious cheer they're spreading.

Then, the father walks up and shares a few hurried words to the mother, who frowns.

Kegare, kegare, kegare, as far as the eye can see. Not as much as an ocean, not thick like the bad luck that spread on Christmas, but still there, like a slight, thin hum that cannot be identified.

Has it always been there? Maybe, if she asks Jun...

Well, that can come after possible news of his date with Tatsuya. If anyone needed some Christmas luck, it's those two.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Jun Kashihara has posed.
<poem>
It's sweet of Umie to think Jun got to go on a date with Tatsuya. Naive, and maybe outright oblivious given both of them were there fighting the Colonel's oppressive wave of misfortune, but sweet.

Jun is likewise dressed for the winter holidays, with a white alpaca sweater, black slacks, and a flower-printed winter coat. He arrives on time at the agreed-upon meeting place at Lotus Plaza, though as he approaches Umie, he notes her glancing in between her phone and a family of three. It's hard to tell what her interest is; to his eyes, there doesn't ''seem'' to be anything unusual about them...

"Good afternoon, Akabane-san," he greets her once he's close enough. He takes a seat next to her, though it might not be necessary. He glances again at the family, then back at her, just to let her realize he noticed what she's watching too. "I hope you're doing well after our last... encounter." He sighs, clutching a hand to his forehead. "None of us had a good time that night, so we can only pray New Year's will be a quiet one."

As it should be, being a family holiday in Japan where one cleans up the home and welcomes the new year with one's closest loved ones. Western traditions of celebrating with a countdown have started to spread, though.

"So what was it you wanted to discuss?" he adds.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Hey, the night was still young, and Umie and Shiryuu certainly had enough time to get up to mischief!

... well, as much as two chariot-type people could after chasing each other in an endless circle.

"Mmn," Umie responds, looking away from the departing family (and the happily skipping little kid), "Kashihara-kun. Same to you... sorry about bailing on you in the middle of putting the Colonel to rest." By 'bailing', Umie means 'Shiryuu hefted her under one arm and marched off after he heard her sniffle'.

"Were you able to get in touch with Tatsu-kun at all after that, at least?" Look at those hopeful eyes, Jun.

New Year's... The corner of Umie's lips crooks up. "One can only hope. It'll be my first one in my apartment, so... I'm counting on it being quiet. Hopefully, it'll be the same for you." His mom's support can't all be just for the camera.

As for what she wanted to discuss... "Mostly wanted to touch base on the, uh, 'Joker' Cursed." It's a little difficult, using 'Old Maid' here as a substitution. "I don't know if you have caught onto the pattern, but 'they'," she says, with a nod to try to convey the weight of who 'they' are, "are collecting them, for some reason."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Jun Kashihara has posed.
<poem>
Jun shakes his head and offers a rueful smile. "I didn't manage to contribute much to putting the Colonel to rest either. I got caught up helping a friend of mine to the bathroom." He isn't going to get into gruesome detail on how bad it got, but it got... pretty bad. Thankfully, due to Jun's assistance and keeping watch, no one saw the idol puking her guts out. That would've been devastating for Lisa's career.

Umie asks ''that'' question. She gets all the answers she needs when his smile fades and his brown eyes flick downwards. "I'm... afraid not. I'm sure he's busy with whatever it is he's trying to do, anyway." He forces a smile. "I'd be surprised if he even noticed it was Christmas."

Besides... it's not like the two of them are couple or anything like that. Even if Jun ''had'' been able to see Tatsuya, he knows full well it would not have ended i a date.

Still, New Year's sounds like it'll be better for Umie, and that brings a genuine smile to his lips. "I expect so. I'll be home with my parents." He shakes his head. "I'm just glad they went out of town for their Christmas date, after we spent the morning together. They didn't get caught up in the Colonel's vengeance."

That smile vanishes again, this time for a serious look, when Umie gets to the point, though. "They are? ...I'm afraid I hadn't--I've only encountered one so far--but..." He frowns, holding his chin in thought. "That makes a lot of sense. 'They' showed up for Sakurai-san too, and they made it clear they wanted her. So it wasn't just her."

He meets her eyes again. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it's nothing good. We should try our best to stop them from carrying anyone else away."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'I got caught up helping a friend of mine to the bathroom.' Umie blinks, straightening in her seat, before relaxing with a resigned mein. "You too, huh... my date was too proud to admit it, though."

Jun's sad smile gains grimace from Umie. ".... I swear, that boy..." Her gaze dips down towards the same tile. "... I think he was counting on Sudou being the end of it all. Now, it's just gotten worse. But..." She huffs a breath. "Would it surprise you that mine didn't realize it either? He thought everyone was just copying me, the dolt..." She lets her lips creep upward in a fond smile, just for a moment.

Then, she focuses her attention back on Jun. "If I see Tatsu-kun, I'll be sure to give him a piece of my mind..." She won't. She knows it. She has less claim to the young man's attention than someone like Jun; her memories aren't the lynchpin on which this supposed 'new world' rests.

And even if she did, while the two of them care for each other, but they're not actively dating. It's just wishful thinking, and Umie's need to made amends for reminding Jun.

"Family..." She nods, smiling. Two parents that actively show their love for one another... "I'm glad. Meanwhile... we made sure the Colonel's spicy 'justice' ended." The chicken wasn't *that* spicy outside of the food poisoning, was it?

The Order, however... that's a harder nut to crack, isn't it? "I've managed to catch a few..." If it weren't for the Bride and the Groom admitting it back in Electric Town in Tokyo... "I doubt they're bringing them to the Velvet Room, if they're going through all this trouble fighting us."

There's news beyond that as well, but she stops. "Yeah. I've been able to... sense some similarities, with Badb. But I can't get it down to a science yet to be able to sense it before it happens."

"Because what surrounds those Joker Possessed... it's like there's a little bit of it everywhere, too. Just in Sumaru City."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Jun Kashihara has posed.
<poem>
"That was the young man with the silver hair, yes? It seemed to me like the two of you were together," Jun comments. He didn't catch Shiryuu's name, but he did catch that much--to say nothing of how much he seemed to like the Colonel's cooking.

He pauses, though, when Umie says ''her'' date thought people were copying her. Jun gives her a bewildered look. "What? Are you serious?" He'd been half-joking when he made that comment about Tatsuya not realizing it was Christmas, but there's an ''actual'' person who ''actually'' didn't realize?? ...He can only shake his head. "Good luck to the both of us, then."

Was it spicy? Jun didn't actually sample any of it himself; he can only take others' word on whether it was good or bad. He almost sort of regrets that. It was a (hopefully) once-in-a-lifetime experience, after all.

"Agreed," Jun says grimly of the NWO's intentions. "I hardly want to imagine it."

Similarities? Jun furrows his slender eyebrows, but then Umie specifies she means the aura around the Joker Possessed. "Hmm... That's ominous. But just in Sumaru City...? Could it be some sort of... aura, or manifestation, of whatever makes Rumors come true?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> The man with the silver hair. Umie nods; there's little need to hide it, though she doesn't volunteer a name.

Jun's bewilderment draws a slow, blackbird grin to Umie's lips. She cackles. "... I know, right?" A moment, and she says, "It can be adorable, sometimes. But also, just as annoying." _She'll volunteer that part too_.

Just not how it factors into the concept of Shiryuu's air of 'gap moe'.

'Good luck to the both of us, then.' "Indeed," she softly agrees, her gaze floating back up to Jun's face. "All we can do is ensure whatever 'world' or 'timeline' Tatsu-kun is fighting against doesn't come to pass."

No matter how spicy it is.

Aura, manifestation... "From what I've gathered... it may be 'kegare'. Or, at least, something that people can call 'kegare'." Not 'it *is* kegare'-- unfortunately, Umie has no way of determining what a 'kegare' is supposed to be.

A manifestation of whatever makes rumors come true... "It's possible," Umie agrees, with a nod, her red-brown eyes serious. "I could sense when people entered their 'time of Joka' before, but... that was just 'bad luck'. If this is something I've just started being able to detect, it could have just been something that's always been there. But the Possessed... it's like that, amped up to..."

She makes a face. "If there was ever a thing that could be called 'kegare', it'd be this. Like, tasting something rotten at the back of your throat. Something going bad, filthy."

But what if it's all in her imagination?

Her gaze is cast towards the fountain, her lips thinning out to a frown. "... But..." The red-nailed fingers of her right hand gather against her good luck charm, feeling the bead placed there. "You can't set aside the idea that this, itself, could be a lie that that entity is trying to make into another truth."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Jun Kashihara has posed.
<poem>
Jun laughs a brief, slightly awkward laugh when Umie cackles and trashes her date. "You two seem like you get along well," he offers all the same, because if she can call him annoying like it amuses rather than irritates her, what else can that mean?

He shuts his eyes, though, when Umie weighs in on Tatsuya's battle. "...Yes." As much as he wants to see him, as he continues to want to see him, as he can't stop himself from seeking him out when he believes he's there... Jun knows it's better for everyone if he doesn't succeed. He might not know the extent to which that's true, but it's clear from Tatsuya's behavior it's so, and he trusts him.

"Hm." Kegare--'taint,' or 'filth,' or... perhaps one might broadly translate it as 'sin.' It's associated with Izanami and the underworld. After learning that there are in fact gods, it's an uneasy thought that there might be more than one involved. Fortunately, Jun does understand that Umie says 'may' and 'could be called.' Something that seems appropriate to go by that name, as she clarifies.

"I see... Hopefully it's 'kegare' in name only. If only we could find out why 'those people' want them... We have no idea why they've been doing anything, really." He shakes his head. "...At least it doesn't seem like bringing the 'Other Side' back is their general goal. I encountered the Bride recently through a... robot proxy warrior, if you can believe it... and she indicated that she and the Groom want that, unlike the rest of their organization." He rubs his forehead. "So it's still going to be a problem, but at least it's a smaller problem than it could be."

Who can say that any of the supernatural isn't just a lie cooked up by the gods? Jun keeps that thought to himself, though. Therein lies the path to paranoia. "Honestly, I'd prefer that to the alternative," he says instead, thinking of Izanami's kegare. "Though by no means does that make it a good thing, either. I wonder if we could somehow make contact with a member and question them... No, that would be foolish."

He folds his arms and legs. "I just wish we had a way of making the first move, instead of always playing catch-up."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "... we do," she admits, with a fond, almost embarrassed smile. "It snuck up on us; we'd always fight and bicker, but then we'd realize we just... were too used to using that as a shield to keep people from getting too close. Even the simple act of having a Persona means carrying a secret with you." And having a strange tattoo on your wrist... while there's ways around it, the cheapest was to keep it covered with cloth, rather than risk rain, sweat, or lighting giving away the heavy concealer on your wrist.

It was due to Tatsuya's 'failure' that Jun awakened, even if Umie'd disagree with that assessment. In turn, it was by Jun's own will to seek a new route that Sudou's scheme did not succeed.

"Yeah. Even by calling it 'kegare', though," Umie continues, "it feels like a sick joke, considering how Tatsu-kun feels responsible for all of this-- that he being here just 'taints' everything around him..."

A feeling she knows, and still wonders if she contributes to, herself.

'...At least it doesn't seem like bringing the 'Other Side' back is their general goal.' "Sometimes it feels like it may as well be the same thing," she murmurs, softly. "The way Sudou went about it, it was like... a world where everything was the way it was 'meant to be'. In that light, it's not too different from the wish for a 'world without sin' 'they' wish for."

Which makes less sense, of they're gathering people with this 'kegare', but that may be in name only. "Scion, right?" Umie asks, as Jun mentions her. "With the Bride being pregnant... it's probably the only way they can use her unique abilities safely."

They want that... just like the two Marked civilians she's encountered, who were also connected to the Order. Maybe, those two came into contact with the Bride and Groom at some point, and the belief spread from there. "I see..." she considers, tapping an index finger to her chin. "What did you tell Scion back?"

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Jun Kashihara has posed.
<poem>
"I see." Jun smiles at Umie's smile. Having the same sort of feelings in his own heart, he can tell the quality of her feelings from it. They don't just get along; they really care about each other. She deserves someone like that in her life, especially if it's someone who can understand the isolation she's experienced. Jun's fortunate to have had so many people supporting him up ever since he got involved in the supernatural--Umie herself included. "I'm happy for you two, then."

No doubt Tatsuya considers it his failure that Jun Awakened. Considering his personality and Sudou's obsession with him, it was probably going to happen sooner or later, though. The best Jun can do to mitigate that is keep his promise.

"Then why call it that at all?" Jun wonders of Umie and kegare.

He falls silent when Umie compares the 'Other Side' to the NWO ideal of the 'world without sin.' "I suppose the difference is whether everything is going forward or back," he muses. "In that sense, I suppose I have to prefer the 'world without sin'... even if it's a choice between the devil and the deep blue sea."

He frowns at the reminder that the Bride is pregnant--he saw that briefly during the battle at the Morimoto Sanitarium--but it's been a whirlwind since then. If that's the case, then yes, it does make sense to have a robot proxy take the field for her. As for Scion herself: "Yes," he confirms. "And nothing, really. What is there to say to someone who wants to unmake this entire world, just because they aren't happy with it?"

Even if, honestly, Jun could understand a little how the Bride must feel.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> There was a time when Umie would look at her classmates and wonder what was so special about talking about your crushes, or who you were dating. There was the appeal of knowing it from a gossip angle, yes, but...

Now, she realizes a lot of it was a secret bitterness. It's a stark contrast to the feelings she feels now, bittersweet as they may be, knowing that Tatsuya and Jun's attachments towards one another can't be freely expressed without risk.

But why allow it to be a tragedy, when it can be something else?

And why call it kegare?

Umie considers. "It's an easy name for it, considering what Chizuru Ishigami-san said, but... we can't trust her to not be a part of the machine as well." At least, according to the intel Umie heard through Nanjo's staff's efforts.

But what do they call it? Umie thinks back, to her own efforts at 'naming things'. Damn that heart-shaped perfume...

"... The past, or the future," Umie supposes, along with Jun's words. "I guess... that's why the idea of the former appeals to people with Sudou, as well as the Bride and Groom, whether it's the same exact idea or not. A world where things are supposed to be the way they are. Meanwhile, people like Sudou's father... they set their eyes on a future that's better."

If she had to choose... she can't even pose the hypothetical, to herself. "... If someone placed a gun to my head..."

It feels like an antithesis, to say she liked either one. "If I chose, either answer would be a lie."

Either way, what is there to say, to either? "That may be it-- why neither of us could say we liked either one. But..."

She lets in a breath. The Badb calls this difference between the two parties a weakness to take advantage of, but looking at Jun's face, she can't bring herself to fully commit to that idea.

Instead, Umie says this: "This may point to where we can find answers: the Bride and Groom, and to a degree, Scion, most likely, might be willing to volunteer information. They were willing to at least insinuate that Those Others' intent was not good for the Possessed, and that the Possessed'd be worse off in that organization's care."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Jun Kashihara has posed.
<poem>
"If we can't trust her, then should we really use the word she suggested?" Jun points out, before reluctantly adding, "Though I admit, I don't have any better suggestions."

"For a subjective definition of 'better,'" he adds dryly of Sudou's father. All considered, Jun very much doubts that a 'world without sin' would be friendly to anyone that Tatsuzou, an old man entrenched in his own power, doesn't approve of. In that light, it's easy to understand why the Groom and Bride are pursuing something else on their own time.

Either answer would be a lie. In other words, she'd refuse to choose either one, even with a gun to her head. There's certainly an honesty in that.

"I can only speculate, of course, but I do believe the 'Other Side' is objectively worse for the majority of people." Jun pauses. "...Though perhaps that's only my own bias in play, when I can only know for sure it was objectively worse for Tatsuya and me."

He doesn't need to know or remember the specifics to know that. Whatever Jun Kurosu was like, the hints Jun Kashihara has gotten have not been pleasant.

Umie points out that they've already gotten some answers from the Bride, Groom, and Scion. "Mmm... You're right, but... how would we be able to track them down? We could only hope that they happen to show their faces the next time one of the Possessed appear, and that we happen to be available to fight and question them." He gives Umie a slight smile. "Though with you and I both on the task, that at least doubles our chances of making that happen."

</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Yeah," Umie says, nodding. "It's still good to question it, though. What we call something can change the shape of it, if enough people do it. But, as it stands... yeah, I've got no ideas, either."

'For a subjective definition of 'better'', Junn says. Umie gives him a sharp little smile. "Want to bet it's a world that has everything only he thinks is great? I doubt he even thinks his most devout followers are good enough..."

People... like her parents, Umie reminds herself.

Her wry smile dissipates at the thought, like snow against the heat of one's cheek.

"... To be honest, I don't know much about it, aside from what you've likely gleaned. It's weird, though..." She settles back on her bench, shifting a little against the hard wood planks. "Back during the Museum incident, did you or anyone you were warning seem to see glimpses of a different set of events? It seemed like everyone kept getting confused." She shrugs. "While I didn't have that problem, I had my own unrelated issues."

It's better to shrug it off than look at it directly, especially for Jun's sake. It's not like she's trying to look away, right? ... Right?

"You were able to meet Scion once. Maybe, you'll luck out and see her again, especially if those two have gotten the idea from Sudou's rantings that you might be necessary for this 'Other World' of theirs," she supposes.

If they're both on the task, that'd double their chances, right?

"...." Umie hesitates. "... It'd... be better if it was someone like you, or... Uchida, or... someone who isn't... Just..."

'What's the worst that could happen, if you told him? Isn't he your ally, Umie-chan~?'
"It needs to be someone that isn't me," she repeats, her gaze back on the frothy fountain, rather than Jun.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Jun Kashihara has posed.
<poem>
"No bet. Not unless you're the one betting against it," Jun says with a wry smile to Umie.

His own smile likewise fades when she brings up those... visions. "I didn't," he says quietly. "But I noticed that others seemed to." If not for Argeiphontes giving power to his promise, would he have been haunted by those visions too, like he had by deja vu once upon a time?

Neither of them can look directly at these problems--for everyone's sakes.

However, when Umie hesitates and says it can't be her who asks, Jun gives her a long look. There are a lot of questions that could be asked here.

"...All right. I'll ask, in that case," he simply says instead.

Jun maybe has a little too much experience at this point taking others on faith.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> He didn't.

Something in Umie seems to relax, at that. ".... Then be assured that not everyone did. I doubt I was the only one."

To not look directly, or to look away from a call of duty...

..... All Umie can do is give Jun a regretful silence. "..."

"Thank you," Umie mumbles, with a grimace.

"... If something comes up... call me." She can at least give Jun that.

Somewhere, a clock chimes, a little too loudly against Umie's ears.

"I should get going." She stands up with a sigh, slipping her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "Oh! One more thing," she says, taking out a red scarf, "Those historical legends? They're growing."

She makes a face, as she drapes the ends of the scarf over her shoulders. "I'm apparently related to a ninja princess." WAY TO MISS THE MORE MESSED UP PART, UMIE. "So... we... match? Sort of."

After all, that ninja master's surname was _Kuroda_, not _Kurosu_.

"You take care, Kashihara-kun," she says, with a warmer tone, "You have my number, so if anything comes up, you can always give me a call." It sounds weak, after her refusal to talk directly to Bride and Groom, but... "Let's both have a wonderful New Year's."

... even if hers will be spent away from her own parents, they're still on her mind.
</poem>
[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-08-23: The Heart of the Matter

2026-08-24T01:50:51Z

Tanyuu: Tanyuu moved page 2026-08-23: The Heart of the Matter to 2026-08-22: The Heart of the Matter

#REDIRECT [[2026-08-22: The Heart of the Matter]]

2026-08-22: The Heart of the Matter

2026-08-24T01:50:51Z

Tanyuu: Tanyuu moved page 2026-08-23: The Heart of the Matter to 2026-08-22: The Heart of the Matter

*'''Log: The Heart of the Matter'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Hana Fukami]], [[Umie Akabane]]
*'''Where:''' Lotus Plaza, Rengedai Ward, Sumaru City
*'''OOC Date:''' August 22, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 28, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''Hana Fukami just wants to find some nice floral scents. Instead, she encounters 'Kokoro Akechi', a completely normal young woman who seems to be just passing by, who has nothing important to say, at all, except... 'look out for yourself'. Isn't that what she's doing?''

----

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
Kaori is a beautiful shop, both visually and in smell. Miss Kaori is here today, talking with a customer this morning, where Hana Fukami is also here--her show is only on weekdays, so she's enjoying some time off. The greenery in the shop only enhances the beauty of the white walls and the shelves of scented products. Aromatherapy is said to cure what ails you, here...

And Hana could go for that today.

Hana is a tall woman in pink, with deep black hair. She happens to be checking over a shelf at the moment, picking something out for someone--

But the Resonant will... detect nothing from her; she has no Persona. Someone like Umie, though, might sense the stormclouds of gathering misfortune...

Or maybe she'll just recognize her from TV.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "You're... Ms. Fukami, aren't you?"

The voice comes from someone standing shorter than Hana is. Dressed in a pink baseball cap, clear frame classes, black leggings, a sporty jacket, large earrings which stand out against long, black, straight hair, she wouldn't look too out of place in a shopping mall that caters to youthly incomes and the time to idle around and spend it.

Fashionable, but not so much that she'd be noticed.

The look in the girl's eyes, however, feels more sober than the carefree young adult she portrays.

Briefly, that is, before her mask goes back on.

"I never thought I'd see a TV star here..." she cooes, eyes wide. "My mom totally loves your show! She talks about it all the time."

These are lies; she's the one who watches the show, occasionally, as she painted and fussed over her paper maiche masks.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
Hana turns without seeming surprised; she's gotten good at dispelling the instinct to blink when someone addresses her out of seemingly nowhere. "That's right,' she says as she turns. She smiles immediately, looking over how ''cute'' Umie's look is.

But that sober look...? What is it?

"I think 'star' might be overselling it," she demurs gently, "But I am on TV! Even people who appear on shows like nice-smelling places." She beams. "I'm happy to hear that! I'm lucky to have a lot of moms in my audience."

"What's your name?" she asks.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "I mean, if I tell Mom I saw you, you might as well be," Umie quips with a cheeky grin. "Well, your show *is* named Flower Talk, so I imagine it'd only be natural you'd be here, right?"

There is something of the Badb that drives the young woman here, a heartbeat of bad fortune that calls to the blackbird like footsteps on worn, mud-strewn ground. Alas, this is not a battlefield of blood, but of words, and Umie will have to mask herself properly if she wishes to extend her warning to the TV hostess without coming off looking like the threat herself.

The outfit was already there, being she was snooping for any hints of the Joker Cursed, but the identity needed a name. Obviously she--

...
(... no Umie didn't bother to think of a name.)

There is a perfume behind Hana's shoulder, a lovely shade of red in the shape of a heart.

"Kokoro--"

She obviously can't go with Akabane. It needs to be something believable. The codename Tamaki gave her was Mitsuhide, and the first name of figure was...

"--Akechi." Shit.

".... No relation to the second coming of the Detective Prince, of course," she adds, without missing a beat.

No going back now. Just deal with it, 'Kokoro Akechi', this is your fate, now.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
"That's true!" Hana says warmly. "I really like this place." Unaware of what Umie is sensing, it's true that Hana feels a little under the weather, a little bothered by something despite her pleasant family interactions today. But the name! A name... like...

It ''could'' be a real name. It really could! ...it probably isn't. But that's fine.

"Are you a fan of his?" Hana wonders. "He's very charming."

"Then, Akechi-san, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Hana turns for a moment, to look at the heart-shaped perfume, and then back to Umie. No, 'Kokoro'.

She smiles. "Either way, I like to come here to get ahead of stress..."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> To be fair, it's not that Umie would exactly know either; while there is nothing about Hana that would note Umie's senses as going off due to calling the Old Maid, Umie can't rule it out, either.

A lack of evidence is not the same as evidence.

Is Umie a fan of Akechi's? "Oh, you met him?" she says instead, sidestepping the question. "From what I've seen on TV," she says, "he's certainly very charismatic."

Umie's attempt to reassert confidence is waylaid by being addressed as 'Akechi-san', a further complication that she did not foresee.

She *could* give up, give her vague warning, and split. But what sort of help would that be?

"Please, call me Koko-san. I don't need more people to think I'm related to him..." She puts her hands to her cheeks, shaking her head. "It's so embarrassing..."

At least, Hana seems to be rather accepting, moving along with the obviously fake name.

And so, Umie does the same, her hands going to her pockets. "Iie...." she murmurs, eyelashes dropping to a relaxed level. "What sort of scents do you tend to like then, Fukami-san?"

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
As it happens, Hana hasn't called the Old Maid--but Umie has no way to tell, really.

"On TV, of course," Hana clarifiess, though it's true that she met him in person. "He is!"

A further complication... but, "Koko-san it is," she answers, and listens to the rest. It's embarrassing, isn't it? "Aww, I'm sorry to have contributed," Hana says, though--

Well, no, she doesn't ''buy'' it, but she's willing to rent it; she has no reason to cause a scene and confront Umie about it.

Instead, "Hmm... Well, is it sterotypical if I say floral?" she asks. "Today I was looking at the Dianthus flower's scent," she says. A flower relating to love and affection. ...For some reason.

"Are you familiar?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Indeed. Umie's sense of 'bad luck' extends to so many corners. There's the influence of the 'Joka dragon', the 'Joker Curse', and all the ones that just don't seem to fit...

At least there's no kegare that Umie can sense, just yet.

'On TV,' Hana clarifies. "Ahhh. For a moment, I thought you were able to snag him for your show..."

She puts a little more effort in appearing saddened by this; it's not that Umie didn't care, but that she's fine enough with the amount of exposure she has now. It's certainly more fun, besides, to talk on and on about weird supernatural concepts in a way she's only been able to with people like Tamaki.

"I wouldn't say that, no," Umie says, of Hana's answer. "There's a lot of floral scents out there, though... what ones are you looking at, then...?"

Dianthus. Nadeshiko.

Yamato nadeshiko, the ideal Umie plays so well, that she formed another person to get away from it.

Umie fights the compulsion to make a face. "Mostly from the phrase 'yamato nadeshiko'," she says, shifting back to her left foot. "I'm sure some man out there would love it if I resembled something like that, but let's be real; I prefer being more 'scents-sible'." umie no

"But nevermind me," she says, flipping her hair back. "What draws you to it?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
"If we do, I'd have to keep it secret until it aired~!" Hana answers cheerfully. "So maybe one day."

But Umie wouldn't say it. "I'm glad," she says. Her name, after all, is floral. So it would be fine if it were stereotypical accordingly. But she explains Dianthus... and of course, Hana plays that role well, too.

No, there's no especial amount of kegare that Umie can sense from Hana that's any more than the usual background noise. But really at taht phrase....

"Ah, yes," Hana says. "Men often do." She laughs faintly at 'scents-sible'. "So you'd rather follow your own path, mm? Respectable."

"...its meaning of love and affection," Hana says. "I have someone waiting for me back in Tokyo."

"Not that he's not going to wait a bit longer, of course; i was here visiting family."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Ahh, not even a tiny hint?" Umie grins, clapping her hands together once. "I get it though. That's a mark of a true professional~"

Even, at that phase... so far, she's only been able to detect someone right when they were about to transform, or... afterward, neither of each Hana is doing now.

It *is* disturbing how it feels like everywhere in Sumaru City has a small degree of that 'taint' now; had it always been there, or is it new?

Maybe, it's all a figment of Umie's imagination, yet another delusion being fed to her by that thing named 'Nyarlathotep'.

She squints. "Oh, right, your first name... it's Hana, isn't it? No wonder you were asking." She places a finger to her chin, thoughtfully. "People must assume it means 'flower'..." Much like people would assume 'Umie' was relating to the ocean, or 'rabbit'.

Or the moon.

She'll follow her own path. "I suppose, you could say that."

There's another meaning a dianthus could have, however...

'I have someone waiting for me back in Tokyo.' Umie's expression softens slightly. "It's a wonderful feeling, isn't it?"

What if that's where Hana's bad luck may come in, Umie supposes. But to assume that, and then had it be something else...

'Why don't you tell her, instead of pretending to be a part of her world, Umie-chan?'
It has to be a delusion. Or...
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
Hana smiles. "Of course." No hints!

It could all be Umie's imagination! Hana, certainly, seems in good spirits right now. There's no sign but intuition of her impending bad luck.

"That's right," Hana confirms of her first name. "The kanji it uses ''can'' mean 'flower'," she says, "Though in this case it's more 'blooming'."

But she's good at saying things. Umie clearly wants to be independent--conformists don't as often use fake names.

"It is," Hana agrees. It's a little complicated; she can't share everything about it. But, "So you have someone, too? ...Or have, in the past?"

She smiles back. "Well, there are other nice scents, too. I'm thinking also..."

"Chamomile and Hyacinth."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie makes a play at hesitating, as if waiting for Hana to relent and let some little hint through.

It's all a joke, of course, a way to play the personality of 'Kokoro Akechi'.

The 'heart', you could say.

"Blooming..." The connotations could swing between life, flowers, spring... or the eruption of something that was best allowed to keep closed.

Either is reading too much. The name 'Umie Akabane' had everything to do with blackbirds, red, and wings, but who is she, that is here, before Hana?

Who is Hana Fukami, and what is to be her fate?

Well, for one thing, Hana is a normal person who does not just gush about her 'bond', as Shiryuu would term it.

Umie's willing to share a little, because it's been a source of pleasant distraction during a tense time.

"Yes," Umie admits, and by the way she says it, she at least believes it to be true. "Very much in the present, thankfully. We just celebrated Christmas together."

It feels good, to say that, and not have it be a lie.

"Chamomile... I know about the tea, but Hyacinth... that sounds like a pretty floral scent." She knew some symbolism of some flowers, but this was largely Jun's field of specialty. "What do those symbolize?"

Maybe there's meaning there...

Or maybe, she's too cowardly to say what she wants to say, in favor of playing the lie.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
No. No relenting!! Just a smile.

Instead, she considers Umie--Kokoro's--talk of Blooming, but brightens as she decides to share instead. "That's wonderful!" Hana answers. "We did, too. And then for the new year we have ourselves and some very good friends for the coming year..." She's fond of all.

"Mine is a weatherman at the station," she says conspiratorially. "He played baseball in university, and still keeps up his game."

But... florals!

"Honestly it's less for what they symbolize and more for what they do; despite the fact that I'm enjoying my time with my loved ones greatly, it's a... hectic, time of year, and i'm looking into scents that will help me relax and enjoy what I have."

"After all, it's important to be present in the moment, don't you think?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Celebrating with someone you love, having plans for New Years' celebrations with friends.

None of this speaks of someone in 'danger', if 'bad luck' were to mean that, and that's assuming if Umie were to believe the sorts of information another woman would leak to another, stranger or no.

If anything, Hana would have incentive to dress everything up as perfect. The woman didn't seem like the sort that would openly complain about life's little setbacks to anyone that would listen, and as a hostess, that's a very good trait to have.

That conspiratorial hush prompts Umie to lean in with an eager nod; she presses a few red-nailed fingers to her lips. "... Ahhh... A guy like that can be hard to find... Very lucky, indeed."

'Bad Luck' didn't mean 'danger', right? Aside from the few things that have happened recently, Umie rarely, if ever, gained confirmation that things did go bad, unless it happened recently.

"I... probably will be working, to be honest. My boyfriend can be absent-minded," she admits. "And I took off Christmas Day to be with him. It was a good date, though... in spite of... I guess you could call it bad luck? I'm not sure if you were here when it happened, but it just seemed like everything went wrong in Aoba Ward."

Hectic, huh... Do tell, Hana. Umie considers this with a quiet expression, pursing her lips.

"It really can be hectic..." she admits. "Sometimes, it's easy to get wrapped up in the symbolism and language of things and not focus in the now." Like she's doing now, Umie reflects.

"It sounds like you're having a bit of bad luck yourself, but you're keeping your chin up in spite of it."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
"Thank you!" Hana answers, smiling back. "He was. Or rather, he found me first..."

But she doesn't go into the ''whole'' story. She could. But a casual conversation would call that oversharing...

"Ahh. I work during the day primarily," Hana says, "So I can usually enjoy the evening, sleep needs aside. We will be airing on New Years', of course."

absent-minded... "Hmmm. I did hear some strange things happened in Aoba," she says. "That it was a very unlucky day for everyone. Maybe it was Sumaru's time of Joka?" She is of course familiar with Wang Long. Obviously.

"But I'm glad your date was good. I hope you can see him a lot."

But sometimes... "Yes," Hana agrees. "It's important to live your life as it is, too."

But... "Oh, not me," Hana says, and looks a little distant. "I just have friends I worry about."

"...You never know what some people are dealing with, after all."

A beat, "But, Koko-san, it's been lovely to meet you."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'He found me first...' That comment causes Umie to give Hana a lopsided little smile. "I guess I could say the same went for me and my boyfriend..."

... in that Umie and Shiryuu first met on a beach! .... and tried to kill each other (well, one side more than the other).

To overshare... it certainly would be, and it's not as if the possibility of it being a lie would be dispelled.

However, the absence of confirmation does not constitute evidence of lying.

"It sure was. My boyfriend got food poisoning and everything," Umie laughs. "But it just meant I got to pamper him a little." Shiryuu would forgive her if her smile was a little sharp there, right?

"But... that's really what it's all about, right? Spending time with people you love, even if those times aren't picture perfect."

Time of Joka... Well, that would make things easier as a means of explanation.

Friends she worries about...?

"Mmn." Umie's eyelashes lower, her lips pursing. "I see." If her senses weren't tingling, she'd not be combing through all of this looking for clues. Would she have even approached?

... honestly, yes, she would have, and she would have asked for an autograph. Hana *did* keep the blues away during her lonelier days, just by being a face on daytime TV, after all.

"Just... remember to keep an eye on yourself, too. You never know when it's your time of Joka."

It's not like Umie could give Hana her burner phone's number. That worked with Maria, but it wouldn't work with someone older than her.

"And yes, it's been great to meet you too. Who knows, we might meet again sometime--"

She points to a flyer for a sale. "There's a sale going on next week, after all."

With a wink and a nod, 'Kokoro' leaves to go look at some unrelated stock, just long enough for Hana to leave.

... after which she goes to test out that heart-shaped perfume. Maybe something she could wear for Shiryuu....?
[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-08-22: The Heart of the Matter

2026-08-23T23:31:29Z

Tanyuu: Created page with "*'''Log: The Heart of the Matter''' *'''Cast:''' Hana Fukami, Umie Akabane *'''Where:''' Lotus Plaza, Rengedai Ward, Sumaru City *'''OOC Date:''' August 22, 2026 *'''IC Date:''' December 28, 2012 *'''Summary''': ''Hana Fukami just wants to find some nice floral scents. Instead, she encounters 'Kokoro Akechi', a completely normal young woman who seems to be just passing by, who has nothing important to say, at all, except... 'look out for yourself'. Isn't that wh..."

*'''Log: The Heart of the Matter'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Hana Fukami]], [[Umie Akabane]]
*'''Where:''' Lotus Plaza, Rengedai Ward, Sumaru City
*'''OOC Date:''' August 22, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 28, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''Hana Fukami just wants to find some nice floral scents. Instead, she encounters 'Kokoro Akechi', a completely normal young woman who seems to be just passing by, who has nothing important to say, at all, except... 'look out for yourself'. Isn't that what she's doing?''

----

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
Kaori is a beautiful shop, both visually and in smell. Miss Kaori is here today, talking with a customer this morning, where Hana Fukami is also here--her show is only on weekdays, so she's enjoying some time off. The greenery in the shop only enhances the beauty of the white walls and the shelves of scented products. Aromatherapy is said to cure what ails you, here...

And Hana could go for that today.

Hana is a tall woman in pink, with deep black hair. She happens to be checking over a shelf at the moment, picking something out for someone--

But the Resonant will... detect nothing from her; she has no Persona. Someone like Umie, though, might sense the stormclouds of gathering misfortune...

Or maybe she'll just recognize her from TV.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "You're... Ms. Fukami, aren't you?"

The voice comes from someone standing shorter than Hana is. Dressed in a pink baseball cap, clear frame classes, black leggings, a sporty jacket, large earrings which stand out against long, black, straight hair, she wouldn't look too out of place in a shopping mall that caters to youthly incomes and the time to idle around and spend it.

Fashionable, but not so much that she'd be noticed.

The look in the girl's eyes, however, feels more sober than the carefree young adult she portrays.

Briefly, that is, before her mask goes back on.

"I never thought I'd see a TV star here..." she cooes, eyes wide. "My mom totally loves your show! She talks about it all the time."

These are lies; she's the one who watches the show, occasionally, as she painted and fussed over her paper maiche masks.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
Hana turns without seeming surprised; she's gotten good at dispelling the instinct to blink when someone addresses her out of seemingly nowhere. "That's right,' she says as she turns. She smiles immediately, looking over how ''cute'' Umie's look is.

But that sober look...? What is it?

"I think 'star' might be overselling it," she demurs gently, "But I am on TV! Even people who appear on shows like nice-smelling places." She beams. "I'm happy to hear that! I'm lucky to have a lot of moms in my audience."

"What's your name?" she asks.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "I mean, if I tell Mom I saw you, you might as well be," Umie quips with a cheeky grin. "Well, your show *is* named Flower Talk, so I imagine it'd only be natural you'd be here, right?"

There is something of the Badb that drives the young woman here, a heartbeat of bad fortune that calls to the blackbird like footsteps on worn, mud-strewn ground. Alas, this is not a battlefield of blood, but of words, and Umie will have to mask herself properly if she wishes to extend her warning to the TV hostess without coming off looking like the threat herself.

The outfit was already there, being she was snooping for any hints of the Joker Cursed, but the identity needed a name. Obviously she--

...
(... no Umie didn't bother to think of a name.)

There is a perfume behind Hana's shoulder, a lovely shade of red in the shape of a heart.

"Kokoro--"

She obviously can't go with Akabane. It needs to be something believable. The codename Tamaki gave her was Mitsuhide, and the first name of figure was...

"--Akechi." Shit.

".... No relation to the second coming of the Detective Prince, of course," she adds, without missing a beat.

No going back now. Just deal with it, 'Kokoro Akechi', this is your fate, now.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
"That's true!" Hana says warmly. "I really like this place." Unaware of what Umie is sensing, it's true that Hana feels a little under the weather, a little bothered by something despite her pleasant family interactions today. But the name! A name... like...

It ''could'' be a real name. It really could! ...it probably isn't. But that's fine.

"Are you a fan of his?" Hana wonders. "He's very charming."

"Then, Akechi-san, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Hana turns for a moment, to look at the heart-shaped perfume, and then back to Umie. No, 'Kokoro'.

She smiles. "Either way, I like to come here to get ahead of stress..."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> To be fair, it's not that Umie would exactly know either; while there is nothing about Hana that would note Umie's senses as going off due to calling the Old Maid, Umie can't rule it out, either.

A lack of evidence is not the same as evidence.

Is Umie a fan of Akechi's? "Oh, you met him?" she says instead, sidestepping the question. "From what I've seen on TV," she says, "he's certainly very charismatic."

Umie's attempt to reassert confidence is waylaid by being addressed as 'Akechi-san', a further complication that she did not foresee.

She *could* give up, give her vague warning, and split. But what sort of help would that be?

"Please, call me Koko-san. I don't need more people to think I'm related to him..." She puts her hands to her cheeks, shaking her head. "It's so embarrassing..."

At least, Hana seems to be rather accepting, moving along with the obviously fake name.

And so, Umie does the same, her hands going to her pockets. "Iie...." she murmurs, eyelashes dropping to a relaxed level. "What sort of scents do you tend to like then, Fukami-san?"

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
As it happens, Hana hasn't called the Old Maid--but Umie has no way to tell, really.

"On TV, of course," Hana clarifiess, though it's true that she met him in person. "He is!"

A further complication... but, "Koko-san it is," she answers, and listens to the rest. It's embarrassing, isn't it? "Aww, I'm sorry to have contributed," Hana says, though--

Well, no, she doesn't ''buy'' it, but she's willing to rent it; she has no reason to cause a scene and confront Umie about it.

Instead, "Hmm... Well, is it sterotypical if I say floral?" she asks. "Today I was looking at the Dianthus flower's scent," she says. A flower relating to love and affection. ...For some reason.

"Are you familiar?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Indeed. Umie's sense of 'bad luck' extends to so many corners. There's the influence of the 'Joka dragon', the 'Joker Curse', and all the ones that just don't seem to fit...

At least there's no kegare that Umie can sense, just yet.

'On TV,' Hana clarifies. "Ahhh. For a moment, I thought you were able to snag him for your show..."

She puts a little more effort in appearing saddened by this; it's not that Umie didn't care, but that she's fine enough with the amount of exposure she has now. It's certainly more fun, besides, to talk on and on about weird supernatural concepts in a way she's only been able to with people like Tamaki.

"I wouldn't say that, no," Umie says, of Hana's answer. "There's a lot of floral scents out there, though... what ones are you looking at, then...?"

Dianthus. Nadeshiko.

Yamato nadeshiko, the ideal Umie plays so well, that she formed another person to get away from it.

Umie fights the compulsion to make a face. "Mostly from the phrase 'yamato nadeshiko'," she says, shifting back to her left foot. "I'm sure some man out there would love it if I resembled something like that, but let's be real; I prefer being more 'scents-sible'." umie no

"But nevermind me," she says, flipping her hair back. "What draws you to it?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
"If we do, I'd have to keep it secret until it aired~!" Hana answers cheerfully. "So maybe one day."

But Umie wouldn't say it. "I'm glad," she says. Her name, after all, is floral. So it would be fine if it were stereotypical accordingly. But she explains Dianthus... and of course, Hana plays that role well, too.

No, there's no especial amount of kegare that Umie can sense from Hana that's any more than the usual background noise. But really at taht phrase....

"Ah, yes," Hana says. "Men often do." She laughs faintly at 'scents-sible'. "So you'd rather follow your own path, mm? Respectable."

"...its meaning of love and affection," Hana says. "I have someone waiting for me back in Tokyo."

"Not that he's not going to wait a bit longer, of course; i was here visiting family."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Ahh, not even a tiny hint?" Umie grins, clapping her hands together once. "I get it though. That's a mark of a true professional~"

Even, at that phase... so far, she's only been able to detect someone right when they were about to transform, or... afterward, neither of each Hana is doing now.

It *is* disturbing how it feels like everywhere in Sumaru City has a small degree of that 'taint' now; had it always been there, or is it new?

Maybe, it's all a figment of Umie's imagination, yet another delusion being fed to her by that thing named 'Nyarlathotep'.

She squints. "Oh, right, your first name... it's Hana, isn't it? No wonder you were asking." She places a finger to her chin, thoughtfully. "People must assume it means 'flower'..." Much like people would assume 'Umie' was relating to the ocean, or 'rabbit'.

Or the moon.

She'll follow her own path. "I suppose, you could say that."

There's another meaning a dianthus could have, however...

'I have someone waiting for me back in Tokyo.' Umie's expression softens slightly. "It's a wonderful feeling, isn't it?"

What if that's where Hana's bad luck may come in, Umie supposes. But to assume that, and then had it be something else...

'Why don't you tell her, instead of pretending to be a part of her world, Umie-chan?'
It has to be a delusion. Or...
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
Hana smiles. "Of course." No hints!

It could all be Umie's imagination! Hana, certainly, seems in good spirits right now. There's no sign but intuition of her impending bad luck.

"That's right," Hana confirms of her first name. "The kanji it uses ''can'' mean 'flower'," she says, "Though in this case it's more 'blooming'."

But she's good at saying things. Umie clearly wants to be independent--conformists don't as often use fake names.

"It is," Hana agrees. It's a little complicated; she can't share everything about it. But, "So you have someone, too? ...Or have, in the past?"

She smiles back. "Well, there are other nice scents, too. I'm thinking also..."

"Chamomile and Hyacinth."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie makes a play at hesitating, as if waiting for Hana to relent and let some little hint through.

It's all a joke, of course, a way to play the personality of 'Kokoro Akechi'.

The 'heart', you could say.

"Blooming..." The connotations could swing between life, flowers, spring... or the eruption of something that was best allowed to keep closed.

Either is reading too much. The name 'Umie Akabane' had everything to do with blackbirds, red, and wings, but who is she, that is here, before Hana?

Who is Hana Fukami, and what is to be her fate?

Well, for one thing, Hana is a normal person who does not just gush about her 'bond', as Shiryuu would term it.

Umie's willing to share a little, because it's been a source of pleasant distraction during a tense time.

"Yes," Umie admits, and by the way she says it, she at least believes it to be true. "Very much in the present, thankfully. We just celebrated Christmas together."

It feels good, to say that, and not have it be a lie.

"Chamomile... I know about the tea, but Hyacinth... that sounds like a pretty floral scent." She knew some symbolism of some flowers, but this was largely Jun's field of specialty. "What do those symbolize?"

Maybe there's meaning there...

Or maybe, she's too cowardly to say what she wants to say, in favor of playing the lie.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
No. No relenting!! Just a smile.

Instead, she considers Umie--Kokoro's--talk of Blooming, but brightens as she decides to share instead. "That's wonderful!" Hana answers. "We did, too. And then for the new year we have ourselves and some very good friends for the coming year..." She's fond of all.

"Mine is a weatherman at the station," she says conspiratorially. "He played baseball in university, and still keeps up his game."

But... florals!

"Honestly it's less for what they symbolize and more for what they do; despite the fact that I'm enjoying my time with my loved ones greatly, it's a... hectic, time of year, and i'm looking into scents that will help me relax and enjoy what I have."

"After all, it's important to be present in the moment, don't you think?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Celebrating with someone you love, having plans for New Years' celebrations with friends.

None of this speaks of someone in 'danger', if 'bad luck' were to mean that, and that's assuming if Umie were to believe the sorts of information another woman would leak to another, stranger or no.

If anything, Hana would have incentive to dress everything up as perfect. The woman didn't seem like the sort that would openly complain about life's little setbacks to anyone that would listen, and as a hostess, that's a very good trait to have.

That conspiratorial hush prompts Umie to lean in with an eager nod; she presses a few red-nailed fingers to her lips. "... Ahhh... A guy like that can be hard to find... Very lucky, indeed."

'Bad Luck' didn't mean 'danger', right? Aside from the few things that have happened recently, Umie rarely, if ever, gained confirmation that things did go bad, unless it happened recently.

"I... probably will be working, to be honest. My boyfriend can be absent-minded," she admits. "And I took off Christmas Day to be with him. It was a good date, though... in spite of... I guess you could call it bad luck? I'm not sure if you were here when it happened, but it just seemed like everything went wrong in Aoba Ward."

Hectic, huh... Do tell, Hana. Umie considers this with a quiet expression, pursing her lips.

"It really can be hectic..." she admits. "Sometimes, it's easy to get wrapped up in the symbolism and language of things and not focus in the now." Like she's doing now, Umie reflects.

"It sounds like you're having a bit of bad luck yourself, but you're keeping your chin up in spite of it."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Hana Fukami has posed.
<poem>
"Thank you!" Hana answers, smiling back. "He was. Or rather, he found me first..."

But she doesn't go into the ''whole'' story. She could. But a casual conversation would call that oversharing...

"Ahh. I work during the day primarily," Hana says, "So I can usually enjoy the evening, sleep needs aside. We will be airing on New Years', of course."

absent-minded... "Hmmm. I did hear some strange things happened in Aoba," she says. "That it was a very unlucky day for everyone. Maybe it was Sumaru's time of Joka?" She is of course familiar with Wang Long. Obviously.

"But I'm glad your date was good. I hope you can see him a lot."

But sometimes... "Yes," Hana agrees. "It's important to live your life as it is, too."

But... "Oh, not me," Hana says, and looks a little distant. "I just have friends I worry about."

"...You never know what some people are dealing with, after all."

A beat, "But, Koko-san, it's been lovely to meet you."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'He found me first...' That comment causes Umie to give Hana a lopsided little smile. "I guess I could say the same went for me and my boyfriend..."

... in that Umie and Shiryuu first met on a beach! .... and tried to kill each other (well, one side more than the other).

To overshare... it certainly would be, and it's not as if the possibility of it being a lie would be dispelled.

However, the absence of confirmation does not constitute evidence of lying.

"It sure was. My boyfriend got food poisoning and everything," Umie laughs. "But it just meant I got to pamper him a little." Shiryuu would forgive her if her smile was a little sharp there, right?

"But... that's really what it's all about, right? Spending time with people you love, even if those times aren't picture perfect."

Time of Joka... Well, that would make things easier as a means of explanation.

Friends she worries about...?

"Mmn." Umie's eyelashes lower, her lips pursing. "I see." If her senses weren't tingling, she'd not be combing through all of this looking for clues. Would she have even approached?

... honestly, yes, she would have, and she would have asked for an autograph. Hana *did* keep the blues away during her lonelier days, just by being a face on daytime TV, after all.

"Just... remember to keep an eye on yourself, too. You never know when it's your time of Joka."

It's not like Umie could give Hana her burner phone's number. That worked with Maria, but it wouldn't work with someone older than her.

"And yes, it's been great to meet you too. Who knows, we might meet again sometime--"

She points to a flyer for a sale. "There's a sale going on next week, after all."

With a wink and a nod, 'Kokoro' leaves to go look at some unrelated stock, just long enough for Hana to leave.

... after which she goes to test out that heart-shaped perfume. Maybe something she could wear for Shiryuu....?
[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-07-14: It's Good to See Your Face

2026-08-10T21:35:08Z

Tanyuu:

*'''Log: It's Good to See Your Face'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Umie Akabane]], [[Goro Akechi]]
*'''Where:''' Narumi - Main
*'''OOC Date:'''July 14, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 09, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''As Umie lies vulnerable and helpless at the hospital following the Mizunagi Incident, a terrible assassin makes his visit to complete the job... with delicious foods from a variety of konbini chains. ALways so helpful, so trustworthy, always providing valuable insight to matters of the supernatural and Justice- what *would* Umie do without a friend like Akechi in her life?''

----

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Studies show that eating foods rich in-" *click*
"Oh, look at her go! She's in the final-" *click*
"Experts can't say why the boat-" *click*
"A samurai's worth is in his word-" *click*
"As Prime Min-" *CLICK*
"You activated my trap, Sato-kun! Now-" *click*

The TV goes black as a chipped red nail presses the power button on the TV remote.

Umie flops her head back into her raised pillow, turning her head towards the window outside, looking out onto a plain view of a chilly courtyard, December having come in full force. At least there's lights strewn through the branches, but with the sun out, they're not on to distract her.

Besides, there's an obnoxious bouquet of white roses, complete with a 'get well' card, halfway blocking the view. It's as if Honjou wanted it to the only thing, other than the TV, for Umie to look at.

With her left arm in a sling, her right wrist bandaged up, bandages over where Ruin's bullet ended up going (thank god), and various other miscellaneous injuries, the blonde's usual means to whittle away the time have been cut back. She can't do anything with her hands.

There's just the beeps of medical equipment, the murmur of staff walking by, dust motes in the sun streaming in, and an urge to look at her phone.

Oh. And nightmares, but that's for future Umie to deal with. Present Umie is wide awake, and is refusing to think about all the mysteries that have spilled out over the past few days.

Or the people left behind from them.

The TV turns back on, and Umie sighs. Maybe, in the five minutes that have passed, something interesting will be on.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Hospital Rooms can feel like jail cells when you don't want to be there. Sure, there are no bars, and you have some things you can do, but it feels like you are no longer in control of your life.

And just like Jail cells...

Knock Knock.

One can have visitors!

"Why hello there, may I come in? Or would you prefer I leave you to your channel surfing?"

Why- there's a familiar voice behind the knock. Assuming Umie doesn't tell him not to come in, because one does not enter a woman's room without permission- he will soon after.

"I know that flowers are the customary gift when visiting someone ill..."

He places a bag down on a bedside table, and suddenly, he's producing!

Konbini snacks. Mostly non-perishable snacks, but multiple sandwiches and cutlets and the like. "... but I felt you might appreciate something else more. Hospital food is- serviceable at best, ergo- I brought you a stash to keep hidden from your nurse."

He reaches in and pulls out a cold pack, "Also some long-lasting cold packs, so you don't have to eat the sandos all at once."

He hasn't said anything yet about what happened, the incident or the like- but then again, why would he? It's much more fun to play around first.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> How suspicious, Goro Akechi is here! Except, it is not suspicious, by any stretch of the imagination. He's the second coming of the detective prince for a reason, and this happened in the same ward as him! That's practically like being in his backyard. A ship disappeared, a ship embedded itself into the side of a hospital, a person named Umie Akabane was admitted into that same hospital...

It'd be suspicious if Akechi *wasn't* knocking on Umie's door right now, because it just seems like such a perfect situation to socialize in. Umie, lying in bed, unable to move much, and Akechi, able to walk right out at any moment he gets a need to be elsewhere.

All this, and he'd look like a complete prince just for showing up.

So of course Umie tells Akechi to come in. She's not even going to pretend she's not immensely happy to see him, even! (Well, okay, let's not go *that* far. She'll settle for 'seems moderately pleased to have him here'.)

"Come on in, Akechi-kun," Umie murmurs, with a half-grin. "I will always prefer your company over daytime TV." Such a high bar.

The delighted twinkle in her eyes grows to unabashed delight as Akechi sets down a bag on the bedside table with a familiar sound of crinkling wrappers and hollow plastic containers.

Konbini snacks!!!

"I wonder what hanakotoba says about these..." she quips. "Egg sando.... peace and comforting prosperity, maybe?" Akechi's even thought ahead, with... ice packs! "As a proper detective should," she assesses, nodding once. "We'll have to properly dispose of all evidences of your crime, of course." Experimentally, she holds up her right hand; coincidentally, the bandages happen to cover her Mark, for once. "Quick, one egg sando, before they notice."

She's grinning like an idiot, but that may be due to the pain meds. That is the excuse Umie would tell herself.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
How suspiciously unsuspicious! After all, Detectives know things. And he's a supernatural one. Indeed, one might wonder what pointed him in this direction- but in this direction he has come.

When he comes in, it's wearing a grey blazer so light it's almost tan, a tie- and a button up white shirt, as well as slacks matching his jacket.

Of course, there's also black gloves. One always must be prepared.

It's a Sunday after all, so he's not in his school uniform, but still something ''like'' one for work.

"Well, it's good to know I rank above Soap Operas and Talk Shows at least." He grins, "Although I do appear on the latter from time to time."

Then Umie asks quite the strange question, and as if he doesn't see the joke, he shrugs, "Knowing Hanakotoba? I'm not all together certain what emotions an egg would represent... perhaps yearning, hope? Likely one would pair it up with conceptions of feelings related to fertility."

As Umie suggests that they'll have to properly dispose of all evidence of a crime... he grins, "Please, who do you take me for?" And at the bottom of the bag he produces- a trash bag!!!

"All you have to do is hide it in here. Then tie it up and toss it within the garbage. Even if someone fancied searching through your garbage, you'd have already been discharged when your crime was discovered."

And of course, he produces- one Egg Sando. "I didn't know which one you'd prefer, so I stopped by several stores. Here's the Dawson's."

As he hands it over.

"In my opinion, it's the most palatable." Then takes a seat, giving her time to eat. He doesn't force a topic change onto her injuries- yet.

Mostly because he doesn't want to put a damper on the mood... ''yet'' at least.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Impeccable timing, impeccably dressed, impeccable hair, too. It's enough to make someone jealous that they haven't somehow prepared, even if their circumstances disallow for proper primping.

"Of course you are." She looks up to the TV, currently marked with 'MUTE', where two actors express themselves over a passionate argument. "Have you ever considered being on the former? I bet you'd be a hit, should you ever get tired of chasing mysteries."

She's mostly joking; she imagines the work would drive someone like Akechi completely bonkers.

Likewise, she doesn't see Akechi using a hidden language of comfort food to send a coded message, but it's a funny one to consider, after staring at those white roses for a few hours. "'I wish you success in your endeavors', then," she muses. "But I suppose, the best example would be, 'I brought you food, stop asking me'." She'd hold her hand to her chin, but instead, that half-smile has to just sit there, naked.

"Ahh, excellent." She'll have to hide these from Shiryuu, after all. How can a man who has murdered people be so obsessed with her eating healthy??

The questions may be coming, but Umie is happy to simply let them come on their own time, or assign themselves to the realm of assumptions. As a detective, and someone who has dabbled in the supernatural alone, injuries would simply be a part of the whole package It's barely been over a week since they've faced Hodai, however, and now, she's here, with arguably worse injuries.

.... Umie's glad Ren wasn't there this time to witness those deaths, at least. That's enough to give most people nightmares, including her, despite thinking she'd seen it all. Demons can die in cruel, violent ways, after all... It was shocking at first to her much younger brain, but she had gotten used to it the same way someone would get used to violence on a nature documentary. Even if a demon is almost completely human shaped, they are not bound by humanity, expressing themselves and holding themselves to a different credo that Umie had gotten far too used to.

"All of that, for me?" The question is presented like a quip, but there's a part of it that feels moved by the extra steps Akechi took. And so, when the next words come, they're warmer, unable to hold back as she accepts that sandwich. "Thank you, Akechi-kun."

So much irony, and only Akechi is in a position to appreciate it.

She eats the sando, careful not to overextend her right wrist any, from where Ruin slammed into it. "Mm. Did you happen to have something to drink on you?"

After that, Umie broaches one subject, at least. "By the way, have you heard from Amamiya-kun at all?" She frowns. "I've been trying to figure out what to text him in regards to that day, but I keep coming up blank. Plus, with everything going on..." SHe motions with her chin.

"Which... is another reason I have to thank you, for being there. I think that's why he took everything so well." Obviously.

Pause. "... You... *were* there, right?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"Haha... it has been offered but- I don't think I'd be much of an actor, myself." He says with a touch of good humor and no small amount of irony. "Besides, shows like that have such a rigorous filming schedule, that I'd have to give up being a Detective entirely."

Would it drive him bonkers? Perhaps not- after all, he desires validation, acclaim. At the same time, he wouldn't get it for being himself. He'd get it for the ''role'' and his talent playing someone else.

It would drive him up a wall, because he wouldn't be loved in and of himself, and he'd know it.

He shakes his head, snorting at her end result, that half-smile on her face and the 'I brought you food, stop asking me'.

How can a man who has murdered people be so obsessed with eating healthy? It's a good question, but Akechi would guess it's because he lives such a rigidly disciplined life.

... and Goro Akechi, despite doing so on the surface as the High School Detective Prince, is anything but in many other ways...

"Yes I decided to show you my acting skills by playing the role of the doting grandmother." He quips back, "You aren't eating nearly enough, Akabane-chan. Here, have some junk food."

When she asks if he has something to drink on him, he brings out a Ramune bottle, placing it in front of her. "Of course I do. Though you will have to hazard not separating your trash for a time."

...

Then she opens the subject and-

"After the incident with your ex-coworker slash stalker, we spoke briefly."

Though he won't say the context to protect their identity of course. "But not after- when I heard you were admitted to the hospital, I decided it'd be best if I spoke to you first... just in case."

He crosses his arms, "After all, wounds such as these beg questions from your friends that you may not want to answer."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Validation is a tricky beast to lure in, and one Umie is woefully unable to understand in the same way she'd understand loneliness. Of course she wants it, like any young adult...

The same goes for being loved. Her and Shiryuu bonded together with an almost magnetic force, simply because their loneliness played across that gulf of understanding in similar keys. Yet, both have families, and people who are concerned about them. Akechi, on the other hand...

The surreal idea of Akechi being a doting grandmother... Now, it's Umie who snorts. "Sorry, but I can't call you 'grandma'. My grandma would've brought apples or Nanbu crackers. Perhaps you are my caring doting brother instead?" she suggests, chuckling.

Not that she'd know what that was like, outside of media. What would Grandma Rie have thought of junk food...?

Those memories are hazy, like spring night fog.

The ramune soda is offered, and she takes it gratefully. "Don't tell me you didn't get yourself anything after all that running around," she says, one eye closed as she lowers the bottle down. "'Akechi-kun, you're not eating nearly enough. You're skin and bones!'"

ah, how the turns... table.

"... Well-" This is from another incident, she's about to say, but that feels like getting off the subject. "He doesn't need to know *that*. I'm mostly concerned that he's okay. You and I can laugh off a guy attacking with a vending machine, but he saw his co-worker get hurt by some random guy." Not to mention Kurou is convinced he'll have to break ties, but that heartbreak is another matter. "I guess... you've known him for longer, so I was just wondering what you think. Should I just... not say anything next time we're on shift together?" She carefully tips her bottle back. "I've never had this happen before, is what I'm saying. You operate on the edge of more worlds than one, so... I'm looking to you for advice."

Pause. It makes her feel a little too naked, just directly asking him for advice. So, she adds something, a touch impishly: "Afterwards, I might be persuaded to offer some of that information about what happened here, if you're looking for that."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Indeed, he made the comparison because it was so ridiculous. However, now that she calls him a 'caring doting brother' his smile wavers just a touch, then, "Well... it would certainly be more apt."

He's quiet, perhaps a little solemn on that one. What does Umie think of him? And he tried to murder her. Perhaps it would be a kindness, 'euthanasia' in a sense.

But...

He manages to come back to whenever she says he's skin and bones. "Of course I ate something on the way." He scoffs at her, "What kind of gift would this be if I immediately went? ... And by the way, I'll be taking half of it."

He leans back, arms still crossed, "Besides, I eat more than enough from my TV appearances- do you have any idea how much food an entire production crew has back stage?"

Akechi looks away as she speaks about the vending machine, "Well, one person was certainly laughing." He grouses, remembering the incident, before contemplating what Umie says and-

"I think some version of the truth that's palatable to a normal person is for the best." He says, and it's certainly ironic, given that Ren Amamiya isn't normal. "Then- if they remember more, you can go from there. After all, if they do, it's a sign they have the potential to become a Persona User themselves, one day."

It's a bunch of lies all put together to protect Ren's identity, that alone is amusing enough.

"Perhaps- you were attacked by a stalker at the con. He threw a steel chair at you. He's been jailed for now- while the cops investigate his crimes."

Reaching up, he rubs his eyes with a gloved hand, then, "Yes... I think I will ask. What did you get involved in after- everything that happened that put you here?"

A beat.

"And I'll do you a courtesy just this once and not play detective."

Surprising. But he does truly feel bad. Ordinarily he'd mess with her and ask questions that outright accuse her just to see how she reacts.

He holds up one finger, "I know you were shot by a small caliber firearm, which is what put you here." He holds up a second finger, "And the timing of your admission coincides with that incident involving the research vessel striking the Narumi Memorial Hospital. ... That is what I've deduced already."

Such genius detective work, so wow, given that he's the one who put her here.

</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "It would be," Umie reflects, a second later, as if realizing a similar notion at about the same time. Ghh... she was never like this _before_, but she also didn't have people she could even mention the presence of the supernatural. Even people like Toki, who would be trustworthy at the very least...

But she actually does feel a bond of trust with Akechi, despite his more eccentric traits, despite knowing him for a far shorter amount of time. And for Akechi, Umie wonders, what lurks beyond his own hesitancy?

Perhaps it's to do with his detective work, she reasons. She's probably being to chummy with him.

She'll just blame the pain killers, like a proper adult!

'By the way, I'll be taking half of it.' "Ah, ah, good. You're growing boy andddd... I'm sorry, I can't continue with that," Umie snickers. "And is that so...?" She ponders, tilting her head. "... So that's your real reason... I see..." She's kidding!

Well, one person was certainly laughing, Akechi recounts. "I guess I lucked out..." Umie idly muses. "All I remember is people coming, and..." That Shiryuu came for her. Kurou, coated in glass, moving so fast it was like he was dancing with his weapon. That Akechi's shoulder felt hard. That she ruined things. That Ren said things, and for some reason, she just trusted it.

That was definitely the concussion talking.

Ren is, of course, a normal person, what do you mean, Akechi. Akechi does bring up a consideration Umie's pondered before, in passing: the potential. "... Doesn't that worry you? Sure, he'd have plenty of people who'd help him, like us, but. Pushing that aside, could you handle him knowing about those sides of you? Or that he'll be dealing with the Dark Hour?"

Not all of this is just about Ren: Umie also wants to know what Akechi thinks about this matter himself.

As for the rest, Umie seems to invite the question. "Go ahead. I can't promise I can tell you everything-- after all, some things are dangerous just to know, right?"

Like disembodied mummified heads. Akechi's words on that are not ones Umie's forgotten.

'And I'll do you a courtesy just this once...' "My, my," Umie's hands jerk again, and she stops them, continuing on, "how courteous of you." Akechi may appreciate the way Umie's arms and body jerk, responding to those impulses to express herself, then immediately declining as ow ow ow ow.

As long as she thinks in abstracts, it's easier to lay quips like little bombs around, and not be distracted by the dark matters that lack coherent shape in Umie's mind.

She'll at least confirm his points. "Mmhmm," Umie says. Augh, she so wants to put her hand on her hands to mime listening to a story about Akechi's day.

The ship. Yes. Her expression stills as her mind touches on it, unable to make sense of any of it.

She gives a sigh.

"... And what do you think happened there?" she asks. Her eyelids lower slightly. "Then I'll know what I can tell you."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Akechi at the very least, doesn't explore the issue. Like so many things, he puts away uncomfortable subjects for later. He's so good at compartmentalizing things. Blood had always mattered so much to him that the idea that there can be the possibility of family without had never occurred to him.

Mostly because, without the ties of blood, who would ever want to be around him or be his family?

Of course, the moment she knows the real him, it wouldn't matter anyway. And even if by some miracle it were otherwise, soon enough, she'll be gone.

He snorts at her growing boy comment, "And you're ''not'' a growing young woman any longer. So I have to suspect you only wish me to grow taller in order to reach the top shelf for you."

Well he gives as good as he gets.

There was definitely a concussion talking. And he certainly didn't contribute to it by just dropping her, nope.

If you think that, then your memory is being affected by concussion.

"You did. And I just so happened to be in the area." He says, with a shit-eating grin which lets Umie know that he absolutely suspected something was coming and was there because of her.

Doesn't it worry him though? About Ren.

"Could I handle that?" He pretends to look contemplative, "Yes, I do believe I could. We all have our secrets. Things we keep hidden from even our friends. From interests we'd rather not reveal- to something such as this."

It's a step forward that he can even say Ren is a friend now- but Akechi you definitely can't handle Ren as they are right now.

"Sometimes these things come out. Whether by happenstance or- artifice. It's best to assume any secret you're keeping could one day be learned by someone in your life."

Of course, him being Ruin he finds very unlikely anyone could because he's too smart for it hohohoOHOHOHOHOHO.

"Yes, I offer very courteous courtesies." As he quips back her way. "The most courteous, of course." Before he then frowns as he saw that wince, but then settles back.

"On that I'm uncertain of the exact details. However... in the aftermath I found an anonymous rumor post in Dark Side of Sumaru that's been circulating for about a week that allows me to make certain deductions..."

Goro Akechi steeples his fingers together, "...someone has altered your family history by rumor to tie you to the Ryouhara clan, your family line being the lineage of a mythological Princess named 'Unohime'. Furthermore, they linked that to a research vessel known as the Mizunagi, which was supposed to smuggle recently unearthed artifacts regarding this altered history."

He then looks beyond towards Umie, waiting on their reaction, "The manifestation of a rumor can be unpredictable at best. My guess is that- the rumor manifested in a way that the one who wrote it could never have expected."

That much is quite true! He never would have expected ''that'' to happen.

"Somewhere in the incident regarding that 'manifestation' you were shot."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Akechi has full confirmation of what Umie would do and act, right there, right? She'd hate him, and even when she asked if he was cursed as well, he'd feel no reluctance in throwing it right back at her, while keeping her in the dark just how doomed she is.

All of his statements could be taken in more than one way, and the truth is beyond what Umie can imagine, no matter what jokes or caustic ponderings she's made aloud.
... Or even dreamed.

'And you're ''not'' a growing young woman any longer.' Umie tsks. "Rude."
'So I have to suspect you only wish me to grow taller in order to reach the top shelf for you.' "And what do you think I have Amamiya-kun do?" (As well as other employees, but Ren is most relevant here.) She shamelessly admits to it!

Good for Umie, though, that Akechi is just as shameless, admitting he 'just so happened' to be in the area. "Uh huh..." She takes another bite of her egg sando, switching over to the ramune soda, one eye closed. "How can I ever doubt that radiant smile of yours..."

The subject of Ren, and in turn how Akechi would treat such things in general, is handled with more seriousness. She listens, taking in Akechi's viewpoint, stifling a smile as she hears him indirectly confirm he considers Ren a friend.

"... It's scary to consider." Perhaps, Akechi's secrets aren't as deep, or he's more prepared for them to eventually come to light. "That this is a risk that we have to take, just to engage with other people."

But in turn, because he shares this, he hears an admission from Umie, whether unwelcome or no: she considers him a part of this strange 'grouping' she's made in her mind.

Will he appreciate that, when she has no idea the man who almost killed her is sitting nary a meter or two away from her?

"I'd expect nothing less than the highest courtesies from you," she says right back, unfortunately fumbling over how to continue. To court his courtesies? No, she's not courting him, she's courting the gumpy shinobi who is currently being a terror to his nurse, who is having none of his attitude.

Ahhh, her prince-

".... eh?" Umie casts a blank look at Akechi. No, she was *not* expecting this at all. So now, with Umie's blessing, Akechi gets to reap his just rewards, borne from the seeds he himself planted. "My wrist hurts when I hold up my phone for that long, and it's outdated, so... I... haven't been keeping up..." Blink, blink. "How."

"How the hell." The Ryouharas. "Uno.... hime...? I'm... what?" no, Umie, your descendant is a princess, not you, silly!

Umie takes a breath. "Wait, no. Rumors can't be *that* powerful. It's just things that are easy to change, like..." Shops selling weapons! Easy. ".... My parents met up north, in Aomori." And there's a Ryouhara branch in Akita... "The Order must be behind this somehow... because... Uh."

The egg sando lies forgotten, in her hand. "... Wait, you're just pranking me, aren't you?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"Obviously you need a backup." Akechi says, of that being Amamiya's purpose. "And one for supernatural shelves."

He knows FULL WELL she can 'jump good' when powered up.

"It is." He agrees with her on how frightening it is, "But it is a small price to pay for the power we wield. In a sense, without it- both of us would be helpless to even perceive a whole part of the world we live in, much less do anything about it."

He inhales, then shakes his head, "Just imagine what our lives would be like if we were in the middle of this without our powers... or even where you might be right now."

Umie however is incredulous when at first delivered the news of the rumor, and Akechi watches her reaction.

"You would love it if I said 'Just Kidding' right about now... but no I'm not pranking you." He says with a solemnity, "I'm quite serious. Whoever spread the rumor was utilizing the fervor of those invested in the 'History Boom' in order to make certain it would take hold."

He looks up at the ceiling. Then takes a deep breath and-

"Honestly, I am beginning to believe the power of Rumors is without limit. The boundaries were never about whether something is easy to change- but whether it is a rumor that remains within the public consciousness. That it continues to live 'Rent Free' in people's heads, so to speak, far beyond wherein they've heard it. The more people you can convince..."

He allows that to linger for a time, with the implication obvious.

"... It's quite terrifying. However, the more fantastical the rumor- the easier it is for people to dismiss it. As it stands- the idea that you're descended from a Ninja Clan's Princess isn't that difficult for people to accept, since they think it came from the Honmaru Park dig site."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> ... How is Akechi managing to make something she was afraid of suddenly sound fun? "Supernatural shelves, eh..." She stalls, glancing to the side with a rueful expression. "... Now you have me wondering what a Persona of somebody like Amamiya-kun would even look like." Maybe something like that confident, mysterious persona (lower case p) Ren had during the cosplay convention...

_wait, no, why is she seriously thinking about this_ "... Then, let's agree that, if Amamiya-kun *does* have a Persona hiding inside him--" ha ha ha Umie hasn't realized that Potential had a capital P "--we'll make sure he adjusts just fine." Why does Umie look so serious

And indeed, Umie is quite nimble at scaling up obstacles that would be normally impossible, even for someone who's tall. (... though, Shiryuu found out the hard way that Umie has been doing some bouldering of her own and is willing to use it on him.)

At least she feels better about it. "I suppose. I've had mine--" Badb, that is "-- long enough that it's hard to imagine life without her. Is it like that, for you and yours? Even if it's a shorter time frame, going through Mementos by yourself..."

Where would she be, without her powers? She makes a face, as she considers it. It's a rhetorical question, meant to lead to the obvious answer of 'they'd be dead'. The answer would be the same here, as well; her survival would have depended on another set of events to happen: her heart condition being found out and treated, for instance.

She forcefully glazes over it, turning her attention instead on poor, poor Akechi. "Mm, are you implying that even you would be over your head?" It's a fake question, a diversion from something she doesn't want to think about. A contradiction in her logic, that strikes like a lightning bolt far too close for comfort.

'What if things aren't as random as they should be?'

Like an answering chime of a bell, the next topic hits nearly the same note: a rumor, about her and the Ryouharas, tied to the same burial site that birthed the History Boom in Sumaru City, as Akechi pinpoints. "... So it plants the seed of belief, and spreads from there as the belief is confirmed, like a feedback loop. Just like the stories of Kurosu, Amano, and Suou-- enough to spawn a small shrine near the sanitarium. And then there's Wang Long; Ishigami-san could say anything at this point, and it'd come true."

It's not even about belief, anymore. "Like an information virus. Just you telling me, or me reading it later, makes us a part of its spread. The only way for something like that to properly die would for it to be forgotten, or for the public to move onto something else."

But the fact that she, Umie Akabane, normal boring konbini worker, and the Ryouharas, a family of shinobi that do not interact with the public, makes it suspicious, in a way.

"Do you ever wonder why it's here, in Sumaru City, that rumors can work like that? It's always been a strange city, but Tokyo has its share of strange districts. Sumaru City, though... it's like a 'Mementos' onto itself."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"Certainly it would have glasses and an apron." Akechi says cheerfully. "I'm guessing Fire Element, after all, Amamiya-kun devotes so much of their free time to making the perfect cup of coffee."

Of course, those are all lies he's curating to keep her away from the truth, since he's not certain if she knows- or what she knows or not.

"Of course we will. I've actually introduced several people to this world, believe it or not."

Including one of the Phantom Thieves but he's not gonna say that!

"My Persona..." Akechi pauses, thinking of how to describe it then, eventually- "I see it as one of my limbs, I suppose. It's been with me for so long that it truly is that much a part of me." As for whether he'd be in over his head without one?

"Of course. Does it surprise you that I'd think that? If I can't perceive the supernatural long without remembering it, then there's no way for me to interact with it. Now- that's not to say a Persona User is invulnerable."

He strokes his chin in thought, "I suppose that without one, it's not impossible I could take them in a fight, under the right conditions- with preparations, but- how would I know to prepare at all for the eventuality that the supernatural is real?"

Akechi does indeed actually have plans for if his Persona powers were somehow sealed. A necessary eventuality given the things the New World Order is coming up with.

Umie explains in her own way what he surmised about rumors, and eventually he nods, "The issue is that one cannot predict how it will be spread- or what form it takes within people's minds. In a sense, it's like a telephone game. It's likely that if everyone has different 'conceptions' of the rumor, then it is difficult for it to form."

He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms again, "As it stands, there's not much room left for interpretation in the rumor I saw posted- so it likely has become reality. Your family lineage has changed."

Then she asks a good question, and he looks right at her, "I think the answer for why it can happen is rather simple, actually. I think some God or Devil has taken an interest in Sumaru City, personally. And perhaps we already know 'whom' it is- given our good friend, Tatsuya Sudou."

The good friend part he says with a most sarcastic tone, of course.

"You said his name once to me yourself." He prompts, "Though how does one fight something like that? ... That, I do not know."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Sureeee, they're lies designed to lead Umie astray, and not just you having some fun, Akechi. "Glasses and an apron..." Umie's expression goes flat. "I'd... think he'd probably like something that didn't remind him of his evening shift the next day."

More bewildering is how Akechi openly admits to helping introduce several people to this world. "What, using the Persona Game? Or you mean help them get a handle on what's going on?" She frowns. She's tried to do the same for the Phantom Thieves, though who knows how well she really helped, once they got past her initial understanding of things. "How do Mask-sans even... become Mask-sans, anyway? Is it just... you have a potential to become a Persona User, and you... just have a mask, instead of... the other types?"

Hearing Akechi describe how his Persona is to him (which is, of course, Robin Hood), the blonde's face relaxes; she breathes, eyes closing. "... yes." No wonder that it's so painful, when it's hit when manifesting.

Does it surprise Umie that Akechi would admit to that reality? Maybe not entirely, as his success comes from somewhere, but hearing him take that question and answer it seriously does allow Umie to feel a mote of respect for him to admit to it. (... _unlike a certain shihaisha_, but it *does* allow a point for her to jab.)

Furthermore... "... So you noticed that too." This may mean Amamiya-kun will forget, perhaps. "At first I wondered if it was just a response to trauma, but given how reliably it happens... maybe it's tied to the way some people develop Personas and some don't."

"But yes." Umie looks to her forgotten egg sando in her hand, and the bandaged spot where that bullet hit, now covered by her hospital gown. "Bullets still work. If it weren't for my Persona, I likely would have bled out before I got proper care. Blood thinners complicate a lot of things." She tilts her head, giving Akechi a cheeky lopsided smile. "Ah~ oops, I let something slip. Please do ignore."

Akechi has his eccentricities, and has his own issues with becoming close to people (or whatever private matters that brought Ren to his doorstep), but his forward direction sometimes runs in a similar manner to Umie's own, though she cannot understand what drives someone to have a 'Justice' behind it, whether personal, or something more like Katsuya's own. It makes talking about these bigger phenomena feel like she can get somewhere.

.... Even if it means having to sometimes stare a few demons (of the personal kind) in the face. But isn't that part of looking into a mystery, or trying to reach past that locked door?

"... Like with the Sevens rumor." Umie nods. "You'd have to predict how people would act as a whole, not just logic your way in and hope people appreciate you trying to solve some problem." She takes another bite of her egg sando, finally, switching to the ramune soda. "But who would do a thing like that, I wonder..." She did. Look, she's even closing one eye as she says that.

"Which means... somebody thought it'd be fun to play with my family bloodline. Kind of scary, but I can't even think back to any further relatives aside from my grandma."

As for what? "... a God or Devil, huh..." The ramune bottle is set back on the sidetable, as Umie sits with her thoughts, the intermittant beep of the monitors presenting a constant ticking of some clock. "If it really was something like that, why use rumors, when you could just 'do', if such things exist. But there is definitely something that is being served by all these coincidences..."

"... Nyarlathotep." She remembers Ruin's words. "If it's anything like the thing in the short stories, it feels like something that delights in our suffering. That it's all just a game..."

There's a thread of anger laid underneath those words.

"... You keep trying, is what you do. Over and over. You resist."
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>"Probably, but one doesn't get to pick the look of one's Persona. Not really." He smirks at Umie. He does like Robin Hood, certainly- but he understands that if he could have chosen its look, he would not have made it quiteeee so over the top.

As to her question- he shakes his head, "Oh, no, I mean as in having given them an 'orientation' of sorts once they had awakened. I don't try to make it happen."

That's perhaps one of his biggest lies tonight, of all of them.

"As for that... to be perfectly honest. I'm not certain. Not even the Metaverse is a necessary factor, from my observations. One person I know awakened in Sumaru City."

He won't say who of course.

"It is a mystery, the combination of factors that are involved- whether there is some 'patron' who determines such, or otherwise. There are simply not enough clues at this time- only patterns."

It is easy to admit that if one was helpless- they'd be helpless, even for a prideful person like Akechi.

It is after all, only hypothetical.

"Exactly. And unfortunately there could be other factors as well. Rumors are after all 'unnatural' and none of us are given a set of rules. It could be certain people possess a 'back door' of sorts to make rumors take hold of more easily."

Like say a Severed Mummy Head in a Shrine.

"Yes, it is quite terrifying. It's- not impossible that one could use a rumor to change fundamentally who you are as a person. However, as Persona Users we at least seem to have ''some'' natural resistance... and well- it is my belief at least that as a celebrity- I'm partially immune to such drastic changes to begin with. Too many people out of Sumaru City know who I am and have a soild conception of that."

So being a celebrity at least makes it difficult for someone to suddenly go- 'Goro Akechi is actually a girl raised as a boy' or the like.

"However that doesn't mean certain... creative rumors couldn't get around it. Uncertainties- voids to fill within one's past with tabloid gossip... you understand what I'm saying."

Nyarlathotep.

"The man from Egypt, who has legions of followers. In a sense, perhaps the New World Order is... that, for him."

You keep trying, is what you do. Over and over. You resist.

"Well, if it were true Lovecraftian horror. One is unable to resist. But- that doesn't mean it has to be that way. One should resist until the bitter end."

And burn down the world around you in your fury.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie opens her mouth, as if to object; she then thinks further on it. "... Yeah," she murmurs. "Badb's look changed very little, despite how young I was when I first summoned her." She pops the last bite of her egg sando into her mouth, drinking her ramune. "Younger me probably would have appreciated something more... girly?" But Umie can see something feminine in the cold veined skin, whipped fabric, and nails, a creature of death and violence manifested, confident in her domain, restless when she's not. A devil of broad strokes and pointed fingers, reflecting the smile and chaotic energy of a person whose best plans have as much of a chance to fail as to succeed.

"Yours is certainly more heroic-looking, but like you said, it's through the lens of Robin Hood as the trickster. He had his own justice, separate from the law that made his trickery necessary." That's the fun part, isn't it? Akechi can say one thing, and Umie will fill the rest of the narrative to make it logical. Whether it brushes up against the truth or not wouldn't matter.

Umie wouldn't have any reason to disbelieve that Akechi had an intentional hand in the awakening of more than one person, including a Phantom Thief. "The question is... did that Metaverse app appear on phones before or after a person summoned their Persona? If before, would it be something in the cognitive world responding to something in that person, or is it an intentional 'tuning' of that potential into something else?"

She has her reasons for wondering the latter, having pondered what was similarly 'tuned' by her Mark, and by extension, Nyarlathotep. However, the idea that other 'patrons' exist never occurred to Umie, if her head tilt indicates anything. "A patron, huh... well, I hope that 'patron's' more fun than mine." She grins, eyes twinkling merrily. "Sounds like someone mischievous, to like masks and hiding so much~" oh, Umie, how wrong you are... "But yeah. All we have are patterns. There's just as much indication that there's nothing there but a narrative that gives everything cohesion."

Certain people, having more of a 'back door' to influencing rumor... "But wouldn't that be a rumor to make that a thing?" Umie supposes. "Rumormongers are often seen as more adept because of their knowledge of goings on. To imagine a mysterious person or organization is more adept just because of some hidden reason... that could be a deadly thing to spread." oh she wants to shake her finger so bad ughh "Outside of intelligent debates between two people willing to think of the possibilities, of course." She'll wink at him. That works.

It *is* terrifying. But, in talking about it, it feels like something she can play with in turn over, rather that broil her mind in endless 'what if's and ruminations. Goro Akechi, second coming of the detective prince, may be more immune, for example... "... While in comparison, 'that runaway Akabane girl' is someone with a lot smaller thumbprint," Umie builds on. "The collective idea of who that person is is easier to edit; that, or reality is just edited around that person. Your background, for example."

Her eyes center on Akechi and sit there, intentionally. What Umie has to determine her theory of what Akechi's background is will be based on evidence as loose as the evidence she had that Akechi was a Persona user, the specifics aren't needed here. "... A rumor can start that you are the son of someone famous. A famous movie star," no she's not going to choose politican after having to stare at that damn bouquet for what feels like way too long "... and that's how you got your start, and where you got those good looks. But it'd have to be a mystery who it is; all the better to construct a story that is interesting, and feed into the image you've projected."

Indeed, Umie understands what Akechi is saying. As for Nyarlathotep... "From what I remember, a lot of it was the protagonist slowly recalling the horrors of what he saw. Like he was a passive observer, unable to affect a greater being's plans," she murmurs, softly. "For the sake of a short story, it's necessary. But for those of us on the chessboard, we make do with what we have."

'One should resist until the bitter end' is a fine thing for someone like Akechi to say. But for the person underneath that pleasant face of his... it means something different.

And for the blonde, with her worries of a possible Dark Hour visit from Ruin, implications of things larger than her rumbling in the details, and a worrying sensation of what may come next... she does what she does best: act like she's not as scared as she actually is, deep inside.

"A boring pawn is disposed of quickly, or when it outlives its usefulness. A pawn that resists your hand... wouldn't that be the sort a being like Nyarlathotep would find more interesting? Even if it will always eventually move according to your wishes... it's the struggle that may be more interesting to see."
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"Well in a Jungian sense, a Persona is a mask one wears to present themselves to society. In our case, a 'mask' which allows us to face the supernatural on equal terms..."

Akechi raises a gloved hand, palm up in a one sided shrug, "... if your younger self didn't equate 'femininity' with agency in such spaces, it makes sense that Badb would not be especially 'girly'."

So what does that mean about Robin Hood, then? Nothing, shut up. Akechi for one isn't going to discuss its aesthetics and what they mean aloud.

"Indeed so, and just like him- I have my own Justice, which is distinct from the laws of this country, even if I often align with them."

He leans back and crosses his arms, "Robin Hood's antagonists were Prince John and the villainous Sheriff of Nottingham... but they were corrupt usurpers of a more just King... Richard the Lionheart in many versions of the tale, whom Robin had pledged fealty to."

In other words, it's not exactly a contradiction that Robin Hood follows the law ''he'' believes is Just, rather than the current law of the land.

"Before." Akechi says to Umie, with a certainty, "Not everyone necessarily notices it, but it always appears shortly before the event in question. Whether it's a matter of days, hours or mere minutes. While I don't have proof of this in every circumstance- I do in a great many."

As an example... Ichika. Though he's not about to mention how he knows that.

Again, he lifts his arm as a shrug, "While I have no confirmation, I suspect it responds to something known as the 'Will of Rebellion'. Nor can I answer you on precisely ''what'' it is- or how it comes to be in some individuals."

Placing a hand upon his chin, "If I had to speculate, it primarily seems to be a part of those individuals who have suffered some sort of grave injustice- and do not accept it as simply the way of the world, but as something wrong that must be opposed."

He takes his hand away from his chin as they talk about the 'patron'. "Perhaps. But we are speaking of gods and devils. Even the most benevolent deity can be just as much a devil in our mythology."

There's a soft chuckle, as he thinks upon it, "I would not bet on the idea that such patrons are necessarily better- even if I doubt they could be much worse."

Naturally he hasn't spoken to Ren on this one. Naturally. And has no intention of doing so... even implying he knows something, would give away so much.

Settling back and crossing his arms again, "Well, how do you think the New World Order came to be?" He poses this question, in regards to such dangerous rumors, "Do you really think such an organization was built up naturally- when it bases itself in a city where rumors can change the nature of our world?"

Indeed it's quite clear that Akechi doesn't think it was. Despite it having began years before he could have possibly been a part of it to know for sure.

"Indeed so. The less people know about you, the easier it is to believe such fanciful things as you being a Kunoichi Princess in a Ninja anime." He says with a smirk, "Whereas for me- well, like I said, I understand full well where my past would be vulnerable to rumors."

But, that's partially why he stays so abreast, so he can perform ''counterplay'' immediately when rumors opposing him begin.

Umie however, spells it out, and there's a sigh, and another shrug, "Yes exactly. And people would prefer to believe that I such a lineage, because it's more comfortable within their narrative of how I'm so competent and talented."

He looks up at the ceiling, "Otherwise, it would force them to reconsider their narrative of those left within foster care as being the children of degenerates- who will be a drain on their society for the rest of their lives."

Yep, he stays right on top of those rumors. The last thing he needs is for someone to change the fact Shido is his father. That would make all his work towards this vengeance ''moot''.

"Yes, that's exactly the essence of it. The eldritch- the unknowable, laughs at our attempt to have any sort of agency. But that does not mean they have to be correct..."

There's a chuckle, "I actually rather detest Lovecraft's themes. But still- it seems it was worth reading after all."

There's a pause at the idea of what he finds the most interesting.

"I... hesitate to say that he'd necessarily find them more interesting. I won't claim to understand the mind of such a being as the one we might face. But if I had to guess..."

...
...
...

It's a terrible memory, staring so deeply into Takahisa Shinjo's eyes. Knowing how small he truly was in comparison. Whether he could defeat him or not, wasn't the question. It was how small he was to what was behind those eyes.

"... I would say that they find our attempts to make ourselves more interesting- to resist their will... amusing, at best."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> TOO LATE, Umie's already looking at Akechi with one of those slightly squinty looks, as she thinks of exactly that, because it's a good point. While Akechi's enamored with Sherlock Holmes, his Persona embodied the traits of a 'purer' hero archetype, signifying a drive for justice than the themes of Sherlock Holmes would directly support.

The Badb is a gargoyle, meant to scare away all the scary things that could come gobble a delicious little girl up.

"... Yeah." Umie frowns. "I may have wanted a pretty fairy tale princess then, but that wasn't what I *needed*. And you... it's not about the mystery, but that your Justice is served. King Richard isn't coming back from the crusades anytime soon, and there are plenty of Prince Johns and Sheriff of Nottinghams to deal with. You didn't need a Sherlock Holmes, you needed a Robin Hood."

Or a Loki...

"Before," Umie parrots, with a blink. "It's just weird, to have it be because of a manmade device. You'd think a mirror, or... magic words." She tilts her head with a lopsided grin. "You think it gets updates every once in a while? Maybe one day there'll be ads added... Then you'll know it was evil all along."

The concept Akechi mentions, however... "A... Will of Rebellion? As opposed to A Will of Justice?" She considers, the fingers of her right hand jerking up in a complusive track to her chin before she forces them back down. "Well, no one's going to keep us from theorizing, right? I want to hear what you think."

She listens, nodding slowly. "With the Phantom Thieves, then, maybe it was a spark of 'rebelling' against people like that school coach-- not that that was their genesis, since they would have had to find each other first." She gestures now to Akechi, with her chin. "And with you... I could see it being your 'Justice'. Just because it corresponds with the law of the land doesn't mean you're less of a rebel, if that's what you're holding in your heart."

"Is this just a general term you've heard, like how we all call it the 'Dark Hour'?"

A rebellious means of becoming a Persona user... "Trickster gods weren't the greatest beings, yeah," Umie laughs. "Even a 'gift' of fire can mean the gods suddenly see you as a danger to them."

Wills of Rebellion and what a 'Mask-san' is is pleasant enough topic, but the NWO...

No, it's clear from Umie's face that she *hasn't* ever considered the possibilities. "Huh... I guess... there's nothing that *disproves* it, exactly," Umie ponders. "It was easy for me to assume they've just always been there, influencing things. So you're thinking..."

Her gaze travels out towards the lone window, half covered by the bouquet of white roses.

The beginnings of snow travel down in light trails, beginning to coat the branches of the trees outside.

"By first snow..."

".... It's possible," she concedes, again, as if trying to wrap her mind around it, but finding herself unable to.

As possible as the reality of all the foster children left to age out in foster homes, looked at as a drain on society.

Like small dots in the giant monster of society, forced to walk a labyrinthian maze.

Or dots of frozen ice against an eldritch being, an idle, passing fancy.

"It'd have to be something born from us though, right? It can't be a true god, even in the kami sense."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Has one considered that he's partially enamored with Sherlock Holmes because- and this is true, Sherlock Holmes was kind of an asshole? As are many of the Detective archetypes.

But indeed, it is true, that originally he believed that his Persona should embody a certain kind of Justice than that.

Children however are wont to believe in fantasies that can never come true.

"Well you can be one now for your 'beau' if you'd like." He says with a sense of wryness, when it comes to the Ryouhara. "But, that is certainly true. It is not even that there is an absentee 'ideal' ruling figure. It might in fact be that none exists at all- and because of that, corruption is rife amidst the elite and powerful."

He has thought a lot about comparisons of his mindset to that of why Robin Hood, how it marks his beliefs.

"Do you truly think it's so strange?" He says, as he keeps his arms crossed, "What of the Evoker? Such things are man made. And in this new information age where social media is on the rise- what better way to represent the 'interconnectedness' of the Metaverse. Mementos... the so-called 'Palace of Everyone's Hearts.' connects one, as social media might."

There's a chuckle at the idea of updates, ads. "Well. I doubt it would be so blatant. However- I do not believe the Metaverse Navigator is manmade at all. I believe it simply manifests upon cell phones as being representative of some aspect of the human condition."

Akechi then nods- and- holds out a hand. "Unlock your phone and hand it to me. I promise- I won't be searching your texts or mail. I just wish to show you something." He then takes out his very much locked cell phone. "Let us just say this is yours, currently. I have gifted it to you temporarily."

Should Umie comply, he taps the phone, then holds it up to show the Metaverse Navigator on her phone. "Because it's in my possession cognitively, the Metaverse Navigator is present." He then tosses it back to her on the bed. "Now, I'll be taking my phone back."

And as he does so, he indicates to her. "Now look for the Metaverse Navigator." And should Umie do so, it's gone, as if it were never there to begin with.

"It's not some magic trick. I believe it is literally a product of human cognition."

There's another small chuckle at the 'Will of Justice'. "Would one not call a 'Will of Rebellion' a 'Will of Justice'- if one is rebelling against injustice?" Akechi asks her pointedly. "Nevertheless, that is what I'm quite certain it is called."

And when she asks about how, "I heard it from my Persona, when I awakened." Akechi says quite simply, "It is the only time it has spoken to me. I suppose it's possible it was mistaken, or lying- but- for what reason would a Persona have to lie to me?"

Would even Akechi's own Persona lie to himself? Well... some questions are better not dwelled upon.

"Indeed so- if corruption is the law of the land, then is not rebellion Justice itself?" Is his simple answer to that idea, before then nodding again, "Tricksters are quite dangerous, in a sense. Many defy the will of the gods. Some are rebellious gods themselves who teach humility to their brethren. Either way- I wouldn't know if I had a 'patron' who is a Trickster. Or whether there is one at all..."

He shrugs yet again, "Unlike the dearly departed Sudou-san." He says drily, for calling him the dearly departed, "There has yet to be anyone who has spoken of an encounter with such an entity. ... Whereas Nyarlathotep has had his existence confirmed by a number of beings."

When Umie says she hasn't considered the prospect, he nods, "It's understandable you didn't. After all- neither of us has witnessed such a grand manifestation of a rumor. To 'create' an entire para-military organization. However, while there's no way to confirm it- I can't quite discount it either. There are too many strange elements about the New World Order that don't quite fit otherwise..."

Umie does concede it's possible, and he considers the prospect of whether it could be a true god, or one created from us. "I don't think- barring new concrete evidence there's any easy answer to that. What makes a 'true god' a 'true god'? What makes a god created by men? It soon enough becomes a 'Chicken or Egg' dilemma... which means we'd only be running about in circles."

Scootching to adjust his position some, he leans forward, "Now if you'd like, we can give it a try all the same. But I'll have you know- I would never associate with any girl who lays eggs."

He smirks, knowing it's a bad joke, but that she's likely to get it. After all, if man made the god themselves, then they'd have 'laid the egg'.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'Well you can be one now for your 'beau' if you'd like.'

---A WEEK OR SO FROM NOW---

Shiryuu slips out a knife, debating whether or not to plunge it in the back or chin of the person he sees as someone who has come, as she did with Hodai and others, to bring 'ruin' to his family.

No, not Ruin, but Umie Akabane, hohoho.

---NOW---

"I don't think he's going to appreciate it," Umie groans. "Besides, I think Amamiya-kun wore the dress better... though..." She hums. "I wouldn't have called 'Ran' a damsel in distress. More like a damsel *of* distress." A pause. "A damsel of 'this dress'."

You can leave at any time, Akechi. Umie has no ability to stop you, as she is now, as well as properly satiated with food.

"Double duty... having to be King Richard and Robin Hood all on your own..." she tsks with a teasing air. "What a busy life, to be a Goro Akechi. But..." she continues, gesturing lightly with her unslung hand, "That *is* a part of it, maybe. Maybe not what I meant by my joke, but it seems a Will of Rebellion is about embodying a double identity on top of it. There's plenty of rebellion to go around, from all sorts of Persona Users, but to be an rebel, Robin from Locksley has to shed his identity and become Robin Hood. The cognitive trick to it is far beyond anything I could do, either; my masks barely work beyond certain parameters." In order to survive, she had to know others, and have others know who she is, but also... a literal barrier it presents between herself and the Eldtritch Other, even if it is as flimsy as a child's belief in a fantasy that can never come true.

"You, meanwhile, just took pity on me, despite my lousy evidence." 'And revealed yourself' is the rest of that sentence.

'Do you truly think it's so strange?' "... Huh. That *is* true." Of course. Whether a phone, or a strange gun, it's still technology, much newer than a mirror. "There are people who've seemed to discover a similar mechanism, even," she continues. "While the Evoker is special, it seems to be tied with the Dark Hour, and the concept of dying. So, your theory is... the phones have the app because it's reflecting Mementos in a way, like how it itself reflects a 'Palace of Everyone's Hearts'." She considers, her eyelids slipping down halfway as she directs her gaze towards her lap.

But who's to say that Kurou is in a class all his own, having had to recover

"It'd explain a lot, if it was true." Still, when Akechi offers, it sparks a glint of curiosity in Umie's eyes. She carefully offers out her red phone, and accepts Akechi's. "Now let's see," she begins to tease--

Well, *that* was quick. "Holy cow," she squeaks, eyes wide in a raw glimpse of wonder. She then coughs, offering a dramatic sigh as her phone's tossed back.

"Alas, you did the bare minimum and had it locked." Umie says, as she offers his phone back. Probably was a burner phone, besides, but did it really have to look newer than hers...?

To rebel against injustice... "Maybe if I hadn't blacked out, I could've been a proper Mask-san," she jokes. "But I guess, in terms of injustice..." The Order did do her an injustice, yet it took Akechi to ask her before she seriously considered taking them down, rather than simply glare incompetently across that gulf of power.

Is she still there...?

Her gaze grows beyond Akechi, in that moment, as she considers what is the thing she considers being the biggest injustice.

A pause, a moment of consideration, before she lets out a performative sigh, closing one eye. "Alas, I just have a powerful manifestation of my true self that I can call on when I need to, as well as know when I'm able to. Oh no."

Just like Akechi was able to hear the voice of his Persona when he first woke up, and remember it. What voice would Badb have...?

They are all, in many ways, built on the whims of Tricksters.

"I can't help there, either. Besides, for all I know, I could've gotten an understudy," Umie comments wryily, on the topic of Nyarlathotep.

As for the NWO, yet again... "I arrived in Sumaru City about a decade back, but I suppose, even if I experienced a Sumaru City without the Order, I'd might not remember it. When did you, Akechi-kun?" Though, they'd likely both be too young to really be aware, or care about it.

"Maybe... it's like the historical rumors. The rumors about a ninja princess isn't too dissimilar to the ones of... what was it..." She tries to remember. "Tatsuosuke Suou, Junnosuke Kuroda, and Maihime," pause "Amano."

Like something trying to manifest a thing that shouldn't be.

She would be scared, but, with Akechi, she feels less scared and more like it's simply a mystery to plunder for secrets. "It's like a locked door, but... any lock can be broken or surpassed eventually."

Only, there'd be another door at the other end, and another, after that.

A girl... who lays eggs?

Umie cackles.

"Don't look at me, I just open unsuspecting boxes." She smirks. "Only the finest, gifted to me by the gods~ You should really try it out sometime; sometimes you find hope at the bottom."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"You might be surprised at the effect of a Princess dress on a man." Akechi says with a wry note of humor, "And please, Umemura-chan is definitely a damsel of transgress."

He quips, both rhyming and punning, terrible.

"Ha." He says with a grin, "I wouldn't say I aspire to ''rule'', Akabane-san... much less to be some ideal of Just rule."

That much is true at least. He would never want to merely take Shido's place, or to become the worst of all things, which is synonymous with Shido- a politician.

"Hm. Yes, I do suppose that is true. I can't say I understand how precisely it works." He says, lying through his teeth, "My being a celebrity I do believe weakened my protection over time. Granted, I didn't go to any great pains to conceal my identity either. I have no reason to."

After all, people do believe he's on the right side of the law.

"It is almost certainly a trick of cognition, that much is true. When I first awakened- if someone witnessed me with my 'Mask' on- if I left the room, and transformed back- they would not even suspect it was me."

He does give her a smug look because the fact is that- "Well I'd say you earned the pity. After all. A half-dozen people who were beside you the day you witnessed me take that form for the first time- had seen right through it."

Ouch. Way to rub it in.

"In essence, yes, that's it exactly. I can't confirm that certainly, as I don't know where the Navigator comes from."

He is certain it must come from ''someone'' though, despite it being a product of cognition. In fact, he knows who it comes from precisely.

It's just he can't say that he does.

"Haha... were you hoping to sift through my fanmail?" He quips, not telling Umie that indeed it's his real phone, and if only she could crack the code, she'd have all the evidence she needs to figuring out he's Ruin- eventually, if she followed the trail within.

Alas.

At the same time though, it rather sells he's not got anything sinister on that phone if he's just willing to throw it to someone, right?

"Perhaps." He says to the idea she could become a 'Mask'. "It is after all, only a guess. For all I know, there's another qualification that I'm not aware of."

And he suspects the same. Umie was never out for 'justice' or 'vengeance' in a sense, when they first met. Not in the same sense as Akechi.

But he's not about to say so.

Instead, he chuckles at her statement of an understudy. "Well if you want to out yourself as a Theater Kid in that way..."

Then, Goro Akechi considers the prospect of when he arrived, before eventually deciding upon, "Nine years ago. And the disturbing question is. Even if there were a Sumaru City before the Order... would anyone even remember it?"

He places a hand upon his chin, "Even historians are forgetting that Sumaru City used to have a very different historical record. Without a care about whether the new history is real- or counterfeit. After all, why would they have any reason to deny the reality before their eyes?"

He does nod slowly at the idea of the connection to the Sumaru legend, "Yes, I would argue that it was specifically crafted to slot nicely into the tale... it is too- 'tidy'- I'd say."

A locked door?

"My, how larcenous of you." He grins, at the idea of it being broken or surpassed eventually, "And what do you think would be found behind this door?"

Then Umie relates herself to-

There's a flicker of, something in Akechi's eyes- something inscrutable. "Hope and butterflies..." He says, quietly, to himself, to the idea of Pandora, trailing off as if he were lost in thought.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Ran Umemura, trans-gress---

"Iiii think that's up to Amamiya-kun," Umie says, with a wry grin. "But I guess you really can't help yourself, can you~"

However, in here, a rebel gifts a captive forbidden goods, and inflects his Justice on her.

(Or... would it be more fair to say he's 'infecting' her?)

"Then why is the outfit a band major? Everyone knows they're a few steps away." Her teasing lightens. "Joking aside, I don't see you as that type. You're.... more the type to put things in motion."

Like rumors.

'I have no reason to.' That, Umie seems to react to, giving Akechi a pensive frown. "... Even with the Order?" She thinks on it, offering her own answer, free of Akechi needing to provide any himself. "...Then again... It's harder, when you're by yourself. I got along easily enough because the Dark Hour is a different beast compared to Mementos. At some point, we both had to look outward, even if we both prefer working on own terms."

She had years, but Mementos threw so much of it back at her and forced her to reconsider the boundaries of these different realities, just like Tartarus did.

That confidence can only go so far before she's merely acting.

Ouch. Umie sighs. "Shame on me for trying to keep an open mind," she says, rolling with Akechi's punch. "It just seemed... too obvious?"

She *is* winking there.

So much of this is a pantomime of what they know and don't, secret identities hidden within secret identities. Knowledge hidden in plain sight, with Umie nonethewiser, as it passes from her hand to Akechi's.

After all, who would believe that the same person who landed Umie in this hospital is the same one chatting with her? Umie wouldn't. To consider that possibility would mean seeing an enemy in every friendly face, and to distrust even your own gut instinct.

Just like, to access the idea of what injustice was done to Umie, it means facing who is at the helm of it all, and just how intertwined Nyarlathotep became in her life, without the entity really having to lift a finger beyond the initial push or three.

"I've never heard of anyone Awakening a second time, so." It wasn't the Order, but Nyarlathotep. "How can someone get *more* awake?"

"Imagine all the juicy gossip hidden within..." The blonde shakes her head. "A forbidden garden of secrets, and secret admirers. I'll regret giving this phone up so readily..."

She jokes.

"Please, I've had to be the perfect daughter for most of my life. That has to count for something." She lets her head hit her pillow with an audible 'paff'. "Just like you have to pretend to be the relatable boy detective next door, always available to all your fans."

Nine years ago. "So... not too long after I did, really." What caused him to come here, assuming he was part of the same orphanage as Akihiko and Shinjiro? Was he adopted?

Something in Umie's gut disagrees with the possibility, despite the lack of solid evidence. There is a strange thirst to him, sometimes--

` .... But she dismisses it, like so many other things.

"I wonder if there's records outside of Sumaru City that could give clues. The Order can't destroy *everything*, and rumors don't seem to travel outside of the city," Umie ponders. "Then again, what would a person do with that knowledge? Seems like a great way to make yourself a target, too..."

But it's still a Door, and doors must be opened, eventually.

Even the ones that will hurt the most. "Listen," Umie laughs, "The Dark Hour gives you a lot of time to look at closed doors. It's natural that you'll want to open them, right? Even if there's nothing on the other side."

Hope... and butterflies. "...." She observes that look in Akechi's gaze for a fair moment, the sound of the hospital machines working away.

"Akechi-kun," Umie says, as another moment passes by, as she looks at him from her propped up pillow. "... What's on your mind."

It's a gentle prodding; for once, she doesn't supply the possibilities herself.

Ren's been a terrible influence.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"If I can, know that I need immediate medical attention." He quips, regarding being unable to help himself, before snorting at the idea of a band major, "It's not like I designed it, so I can only speculate. It likely has to do with Princely archetypes in the Shoujo of the seventies."

Which is, way before Akechi's time. Still he doesn't clarify how he knows them. "Many designs were along those lines."

He leans back, crossing his arms anew, "''Especially'' with the Order. For starters- I'm a Celebrity, so they'll be hesitant to kill someone so high profile, but even if that doesn't stop them..."

He makes eye contact with Umie, "... it only leaves them further opportunities to create new evidence, in solving the case. I for one say that you ought never to deter your enemy from making a mistake."

He's certainly confident, isn't he?

He chuckles at the idea it was too obvious, grinning at her wink, before she indicates-

"Ah, if you mean in the sense that you could become one now? I have no idea whatsoever."

He shrugs, lifting up both of his hands in an exaggerated gesticulation, "It might require that qualification during your first such awakening, or it might not. Who can say? How would one even test it?"

'relatable boy detective next door'

He smirks yet again, "If that were true, I would have sent out on social media that I was visiting you at the hospital." He jests, in regards to always being available to his fans. "But you do have a point."

Another nod, at it being not too long after she did, "Roughly the same time, yes. And I can't precisely know the circumstances of Sumaru City before that point- I wasn't exactly supernaturally aware, back then."

When Umie indicates that surely the Order can't destroy 'everything'- Akechi prompts her, "Check your phone. Search online for history of Sumaru City, see what you find."

And when she starts, he adds, "It's quite possible some record still exists- but if it does, I have not yet found it. Older editions in libraries and bookstores are gone, now replaced with more 'updated' versions. And Sumaru City is hardly noteworthy enough for textbooks to cover it in depth. No... one must check more niche history volumes."

However, when she asks him about what's on his mind, and he lowers his hand, and looks up. "Ah- the reference to Pandora merely made me think of something I read once regarding an unrelated incident, pay it no mind."

He finally straightens back up and asks, "So, do you have a time frame on when they think you'll be discharged? And do you need someone to pick you up?"

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'It likely has to do with Princely archetypes in the Shoujo of the seventies.' "And why your dashing rival looks like he's wearing victorian clothing," Umie prods back, with a smirk. "It matches well; a cognitive shorthand to indicate what an older Persona may not show in itself. But then again, with the Tengu mask..." And it makes sense, why Akechi would know, in Umie's mind. After all, she didn't know about a Badb. "Which makes me wonder... will these outfits change as a Mask-san gets older? It's interesting to consider."

Someone so high profile...

"It wouldn't be beyond them to knock someone down a peg or two," she murmurs. Her eyelashes lower halfway, as she considers Akechi right back. "There's more than one way to get something done. Scaring away your clients, or... making it so that you get associated with boring, mind-numbing cases. Opportunities to improve becoming pruned away, until you realize there's just a stump of your former life." She can't be too angry-- university just was what was the accepted trajectory.

'I for one say that you ought never to deter your enemy from making a mistake.' "My, my, I admire your confidence," she teases. "I'll have to remember that advice for next time."

The idea that someone could become something different? "Yeah. Who's to say what mysteries the human condition can hold?"

She pauses on it, for just a second. But not a moment more.

Whether it was having a Mark that attracted Nyarlathotep, or if Nyarlathotep wanted a Mark to happen, it's a space she's used to. If she was going to die of it, or transform into a distorted god, or whatever the hell would happen, it would have happened already.

It's just a pretty idea, and pretty ideas are as flimsy as the princes in shoujo manga, or hope and butterflies.

"I'm glad you didn't. It'd ruin our chat." She considers. "I wish there was more I could tell you about the cognitive space I and a few friends found ourselves in, but it may that you'll have to investigate yourself."

Ah, right, he'd be here for that, wouldn't he? She got so caught up in simply talking (and eating, let's be real) that she failed to give him anything of substance.

"All this chatting and I never gave you something for your trouble, eh? What a terrible confidant I am... But being shot..."

'I wasn't exactly supernaturally aware, back then.' "... Neither was I," Umie admits, with a wince. "Even after Awakening."

Looking back at her phone, Umie begins to tap on it, and frowns. "Just a cursory search, but... I'm not even sure *how* to search for it, now that I think about it." Her right hand begins to cramp up before she has a chance to type further, so she sets the phone back down. "Point taken, though. It's been long enough. Even something unrelated like the Dark Hour feels like it's been there forever, rather than something man-made."

But what's on Akechi's mind, specifically?

An unrelated incident, huh. "Which one," Umie says, with a subdued cackle. "Demons can tell you some pretty interesting things, you know."

Demons do, but they weren't the ones to tell her about what happened at Tamaki's former school, or St. Hermelin.

With her next breath, Umie's tone turns to a solemn whisper. "Be careful with that knowledge, whatever it is, Akechi-kun. I'd hate to see you disappear, you know?"

Finally, as Akechi straightens up, Umie's expression lightens, as if she said nothing at all. "I just have to promise my doc that I won't go lifting weights with my left arm or whatever," she says, closing one eye. "I'm certain they won't be able to keep me more than another day, at most, but with the way I came in, they've been dragging their heels."

She shrugs. "And most of *that* was just not having Badb with me when I got out of that zone next to the hospital. Blood thinners aren't fun."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
While he doesn't say too much about the archetype of his rival, there's another shrug at whether his costume might change, "I'm not actually certain. Mine hasn't, in three years- and I'm a very different person from who I was in middle school."

Or so he says. There are differences though- the differences between a civilian with rough edges, and a serial killer.

"Yes I do suppose it is ''possible''- that they could do that, especially if I were a normal detective." Akechi agrees, "But I doubt it. The New World Order wields a hammer, and looks at every problem like a nail."

Every Persona User, he might have said.

"So I'm not exactly shaking with terror here. Even should they send that 'one in the Black Mask' at me- he still requires the supernatural. I would be alerted that something is wrong before he had the chance to strike."

And after a moment, he adds- "We have had run ins before. In fact, I believe I mentioned to you once that he shot me."

Indeed... what mysteries the human condition can hold?

"Boundless." He says immediately, "Though that's not to say that they don't abide by a certain logic. After all-"

He reaches into a pocket, and pulls out...

His ray gun!

"-This is merely a model, obviously. If I pull the trigger." Which he does, while it's pointed at the ceiling. "Nothing happens. In the Metaverse however, the Collective Unconscious has a certain acceptance of the idea of 'laser pistols' from media."

That's not to say anyone taking a laser pistol in could do the same thing he does though! There's a certain trick to it, and one he's not like to give away soon.

"Well... for the Dark Hour at least, if you go on Dark Side of Sumaru, Persona Users can at least give a rough timeline of when it first manifested. Though accounts are- confusing."

He admits, "It isn't the same for the history of Sumaru City. After all- most people are under the impression, these are real findings, not the product of rumors. Why would they have reason to think rumors could work on such a grand scale?"

Umie though, asks on the specifics of which one, and he huffs out an amused breath, "Heh." Before he quips, "A certain incident at a box factory." He says, unseriously, "I hear all the woes of mankind were released- it's the origin story of your ex-fiance."

He then leans backwards, crossing his arms, "Oh I have no intention of going anywhere, Akabane-san. After all, what would you do without my sunny disposition as a part of your life?"

A beat.

"Still, I'll be careful." He promises, before she talks about her discharge, "Hm, well, understandable. After all, they do have to report all gunshot wounds to the police. ... On that note, what did you tell them?"

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Hm. Then maybe not." Akechi would have to be the one who has been a 'Mask-san' the longest, though Vesper could have been at it for longer. It counts for something, especially when his life would have been far more turbulent than Umie's.

(She had it in her head that Akechi Awakened much later, but still, it may have been a matter of what questions she had asked, and what facts she got mixed together. That could have been when he had found Mementos. So many things to keep aware of!)

Does he say those things with real confidence, or is it just a front, like she often tries to project? "... A bullet can undo a lot of things, Akechi-kun..." At least, by the point, her concern for Akechi is well-established. But what would she say, if she knew the entirety of who Goro Akechi is?

Her trailing off is rebutted with Akechi's reminder of his own run-in with Black Mask.

"Aha, that's right. I guess we have one more then in common now, huh?" Umie chuckles. "I'm honestly half expecting him to come walking up the next Dark Hour, but I suppose... he may be stuck in that dimension still."

With her gaze turned away by this point, it's hard to wager what she feels. Is Joker stuck there as well?

"I doubt that'd be enough, to slow him down," she murmurs, softly. "I'm not sure I can forget what it felt like, to have that gun pointed at me. What was I thinking, going after a man's heart..."

Her chin dips, her eyes narrowing. "Sometimes I question what sort of person I am in those moments. It's ridiculous, to taunt someone so powerful, but it felt like the only way to regain control of the situation." Because he was taunting her. She knows that.

Akechi doesn't need to know that, she thinks. He would have never done something so reckless.

Looking up towards Akechi's ray gun--

--she smiles, and then laughs. "I remember when you brought that out in that one Palace. I don't know why, but at the time, it felt comforting."

"I don't think if I tried it it'd work as well, though," Umie supposes. "The way you hold it with confidence..."

Maybe she's reading into it too much.

Between the Dark Hour, and Sumaru City... "And even Sumaru City's reputation as being a weird city where weird things happen doesn't help. It's easy to end every sentence with 'because that's just how Sumaru is'." It would be interesting to see if she can search that far, with the Dark Side forum, on that note.... "You think... maybe there's something there about the Order, too. If it's happened within the establishing of the forums, maybe..."

'it's the origin story of your ex-fiance.' Umie makes a show of an appropriately flat face as she walks into that joke, but not too long after, she cackles. "So *that's* why the man's so boring to talk to. He's made of card-board."

YOU CAN LEAVE AT ANY TIME AKECHI, THE DOOR IS OPEN

What would she do?

"It would be a grey world indeed," Umie says to that, with a fond smile. "My blood pressure'd be a lot better though, you know...?"

That's called a callback.

As for her discharge, and what was reported, Umie herself just shrugs. "No clue. I wasn't in the mood to say much of anything at the time. I imagine the ship suddenly appearing on the hospital meant a lot of things got pushed to the side."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
His expression sobers as she indicates a bullet can undo a lot of things, "You're absolutely right, but don't you think you're preaching to the choir? After all... I investigate a lot of murders. However, if it puts your mind more at ease..."

He taps his brief case. "I'm licensed to carry a firearm for my work, and I can confidently say that I can outshoot any police officer in this country, given how little practice their training allows each year." He locks eyes with Umie, "And that isn't an exaggeration."

There's not even a hint of that braggadocio in his voice this time, it's so... so matter of fact.

However, the 'police officer' was chosen because it was specifically relevant to Sumaru City- and they both know why.

"Indeed we do." He does finally chuckle, "What an unusual turn of events..." A beat, "I wouldn't count on him being stuck in there. He's been traveling the Metaverse for longer than any of us have even been awakened."

He looks troubled, on the idea that she might actively be traumatized by the event, but- isn't that the obvious? Most of his targets don't live long after, and those that do, are all traumatized.

Every psychotic breakdown he creates ruins so many lives.

"I have... a few tricks up my sleeve. While I won't say that I could stop him, I do think I could sufficiently surprise him to get away." He finally allows, rather than address her hurt.

How could he? He doesn't have the right.

"We do what we have to." Is all he eventually says, of the idea of taunting him. "To survive. Sometimes what you couldn't believe you did in the moment is what needed to be done in the moment."

Indeed... it bought Umie long enough time for intervention, so could it not be said it saved her life in some sense?

"I don't think it says anything ill about you, specifically. Though I understand why you might take the time after for... self-reflection."

Eventually he slips the Ray Gun away at her words, "It's a powerful image, I suppose. Someone brandishing it in a certain pose. The 'cavalry' has arrived, so to speak. I'm glad it gave you comfort."

But... he can never really be the hero, or heroic. That is not who he is, nor will it ever be. He has made his choice.

For the sake of his Justice.

"... But, I don't know. Perhaps try it on for size one day, you may find it to be surprisingly enjoyable."

Though he doesn't say he'll teach her that trick of course. Nope. Part of the fun is somebody else figuring it out for themselves!!!

"Perhaps." He says on the Dark Side of Sumaru, "If so, it's buried so far that even I haven't found it. The internet has developed so much in ten years."

There's a chuckle at her laughter, before he says, with a grin, "Ah, so he's not a woe, but the box itself. That does explain so very much."

Though, when she says it was pushed back, he looks troubled, then places a hand on his chin. Pausing. Then eventually stands up.

"I don't believe in coincidences like that. While it might in fact be nothing, the moment they're arranging you for discharge, I recommend you have your boyfriend on standby to take you out through an exit they don't expect."

He stands up, and takes out his phone, "I'm going to go poke around to make certain it's in fact nothing." Tapping on it, he begins to leave the room, "I'll talk to you soon, focus on getting well and getting out of here for now."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>
If Umie could only fold her arms right now, she would!! "You got a point there. You and Katsuya-san have an advantage there that I don't, unless I want to risk something *else* screwing up." Though, Katsuya...

... She briefly makes a face, as she makes the connection to Akechi's choice of words. The Order is likely going to punish Katsuya soon, no doubt.

She'll file that away for later.

"I'll take your word for it. Cognition can't smooth over a shaky hand." Anymore than Umie's strikes can fake the level of prowess that Kurou's similar weaponry has, when it comes to going in for a kill.

As for Ruin... "Yeah. If we could get out, no doubt he can." And Joker... will he be okay?

A unusual turn of events, indeed.

As for trauma... Umie tilts her chin at Akechi's gesture of confidence in his future encounters with the assassin, taking in a breath.

"... That's likely the key, the same as always." While Akechi doesn't address her hurt, the logic seems to circumvent it entirely. "You've probably had to do the same, I imagine. Not just to survive, but for the sake of your Justice."

Look at how far Akechi's come, that Umie is willing to say that with a straight face, even some admiration.

Determination and control will always be something Umie finds admirable, as long as it's not being applied to subjugating her, after all.

As for the cavalry? "I suppose," Umie concedes, at the imagery. "In the moment, it just made me realize a little bit more about you as a person. You might've just gotten it at a toy store someplace, but it was still a choice you made, despite having the 'real' thing in your briefcase."

Pause. "..... then again that'd be really bad if forensics came in and identified what bullet was used, sooo."

She should try it, sometime.

"What, getting a laser gun? And steal *your* schtick? God forbid." She laughs, and ponders on it, red brown eyes narrowed into merry slits. "Maybe I'll make some origami stars and see if they act like real ninja stars. *That* could be fun."

She'll have to take another look at the Dark Side boards again, it seems, on another note.

AND ON ANOTHER NOTE, "The pun was sitting right there! I had to," she laughs.

Akechi's urgency, however, is finally realized for what it is.

"Uh--" Her eyes widen. OH. POLICE. SUMARU POLICE.

"Yeaaahhh, you go do that. I'll pass a note to my boyfriend--" hee hee she has a boyfriend and he's acknowledging it, hee hee "--or something." As he gets out his phone, she wiggles her fingers at him. "You need to get going anyway. I can't justify keeping you any longer. Except--"

She dips her head, once.

"Thanks, Akechi-kun. I can always count on you."
</poem>

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-07-14: It's Good to See Your Face

2026-08-10T21:34:07Z

Tanyuu:

*'''Log: It's Good to See Your Face'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Umie Akabane]], [[Goro Akechi]]
*'''Where:''' Narumi - Main
*'''OOC Date:'''July 14, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 09, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''As Umie lies vulnerable and helpless at the hospital following the Mizunagi Incident, a terrible assassin makes his visit to complete the job... with delicious foods from a variety of konbini chains. ALways so helpful, so trustworthy, always providing valuable insight to matters of the supernatural and Justice- what *would* Umie do without a friend like Akechi in her life?''

----

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Studies show that eating foods rich in-" *click*
"Oh, look at her go! She's in the final-" *click*
"Experts can't say why the boat-" *click*
"A samurai's worth is in his word-" *click*
"As Prime Min-" *CLICK*
"You activated my trap, Sato-kun! Now-" *click*

The TV goes black as a chipped red nail presses the power button on the TV remote.

Umie flops her head back into her raised pillow, turning her head towards the window outside, looking out onto a plain view of a chilly courtyard, December having come in full force. At least there's lights strewn through the branches, but with the sun out, they're not on to distract her.

Besides, there's an obnoxious bouquet of white roses, complete with a 'get well' card, halfway blocking the view. It's as if Honjou wanted it to the only thing, other than the TV, for Umie to look at.

With her left arm in a sling, her right wrist bandaged up, bandages over where Ruin's bullet ended up going (thank god), and various other miscellaneous injuries, the blonde's usual means to whittle away the time have been cut back. She can't do anything with her hands.

There's just the beeps of medical equipment, the murmur of staff walking by, dust motes in the sun streaming in, and an urge to look at her phone.

Oh. And nightmares, but that's for future Umie to deal with. Present Umie is wide awake, and is refusing to think about all the mysteries that have spilled out over the past few days.

Or the people left behind from them.

The TV turns back on, and Umie sighs. Maybe, in the five minutes that have passed, something interesting will be on.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Hospital Rooms can feel like jail cells when you don't want to be there. Sure, there are no bars, and you have some things you can do, but it feels like you are no longer in control of your life.

And just like Jail cells...

Knock Knock.

One can have visitors!

"Why hello there, may I come in? Or would you prefer I leave you to your channel surfing?"

Why- there's a familiar voice behind the knock. Assuming Umie doesn't tell him not to come in, because one does not enter a woman's room without permission- he will soon after.

"I know that flowers are the customary gift when visiting someone ill..."

He places a bag down on a bedside table, and suddenly, he's producing!

Konbini snacks. Mostly non-perishable snacks, but multiple sandwiches and cutlets and the like. "... but I felt you might appreciate something else more. Hospital food is- serviceable at best, ergo- I brought you a stash to keep hidden from your nurse."

He reaches in and pulls out a cold pack, "Also some long-lasting cold packs, so you don't have to eat the sandos all at once."

He hasn't said anything yet about what happened, the incident or the like- but then again, why would he? It's much more fun to play around first.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> How suspicious, Goro Akechi is here! Except, it is not suspicious, by any stretch of the imagination. He's the second coming of the detective prince for a reason, and this happened in the same ward as him! That's practically like being in his backyard. A ship disappeared, a ship embedded itself into the side of a hospital, a person named Umie Akabane was admitted into that same hospital...

It'd be suspicious if Akechi *wasn't* knocking on Umie's door right now, because it just seems like such a perfect situation to socialize in. Umie, lying in bed, unable to move much, and Akechi, able to walk right out at any moment he gets a need to be elsewhere.

All this, and he'd look like a complete prince just for showing up.

So of course Umie tells Akechi to come in. She's not even going to pretend she's not immensely happy to see him, even! (Well, okay, let's not go *that* far. She'll settle for 'seems moderately pleased to have him here'.)

"Come on in, Akechi-kun," Umie murmurs, with a half-grin. "I will always prefer your company over daytime TV." Such a high bar.

The delighted twinkle in her eyes grows to unabashed delight as Akechi sets down a bag on the bedside table with a familiar sound of crinkling wrappers and hollow plastic containers.

Konbini snacks!!!

"I wonder what hanakotoba says about these..." she quips. "Egg sando.... peace and comforting prosperity, maybe?" Akechi's even thought ahead, with... ice packs! "As a proper detective should," she assesses, nodding once. "We'll have to properly dispose of all evidences of your crime, of course." Experimentally, she holds up her right hand; coincidentally, the bandages happen to cover her Mark, for once. "Quick, one egg sando, before they notice."

She's grinning like an idiot, but that may be due to the pain meds. That is the excuse Umie would tell herself.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
How suspiciously unsuspicious! After all, Detectives know things. And he's a supernatural one. Indeed, one might wonder what pointed him in this direction- but in this direction he has come.

When he comes in, it's wearing a grey blazer so light it's almost tan, a tie- and a button up white shirt, as well as slacks matching his jacket.

Of course, there's also black gloves. One always must be prepared.

It's a Sunday after all, so he's not in his school uniform, but still something ''like'' one for work.

"Well, it's good to know I rank above Soap Operas and Talk Shows at least." He grins, "Although I do appear on the latter from time to time."

Then Umie asks quite the strange question, and as if he doesn't see the joke, he shrugs, "Knowing Hanakotoba? I'm not all together certain what emotions an egg would represent... perhaps yearning, hope? Likely one would pair it up with conceptions of feelings related to fertility."

As Umie suggests that they'll have to properly dispose of all evidence of a crime... he grins, "Please, who do you take me for?" And at the bottom of the bag he produces- a trash bag!!!

"All you have to do is hide it in here. Then tie it up and toss it within the garbage. Even if someone fancied searching through your garbage, you'd have already been discharged when your crime was discovered."

And of course, he produces- one Egg Sando. "I didn't know which one you'd prefer, so I stopped by several stores. Here's the Dawson's."

As he hands it over.

"In my opinion, it's the most palatable." Then takes a seat, giving her time to eat. He doesn't force a topic change onto her injuries- yet.

Mostly because he doesn't want to put a damper on the mood... ''yet'' at least.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Impeccable timing, impeccably dressed, impeccable hair, too. It's enough to make someone jealous that they haven't somehow prepared, even if their circumstances disallow for proper primping.

"Of course you are." She looks up to the TV, currently marked with 'MUTE', where two actors express themselves over a passionate argument. "Have you ever considered being on the former? I bet you'd be a hit, should you ever get tired of chasing mysteries."

She's mostly joking; she imagines the work would drive someone like Akechi completely bonkers.

Likewise, she doesn't see Akechi using a hidden language of comfort food to send a coded message, but it's a funny one to consider, after staring at those white roses for a few hours. "'I wish you success in your endeavors', then," she muses. "But I suppose, the best example would be, 'I brought you food, stop asking me'." She'd hold her hand to her chin, but instead, that half-smile has to just sit there, naked.

"Ahh, excellent." She'll have to hide these from Shiryuu, after all. How can a man who has murdered people be so obsessed with her eating healthy??

The questions may be coming, but Umie is happy to simply let them come on their own time, or assign themselves to the realm of assumptions. As a detective, and someone who has dabbled in the supernatural alone, injuries would simply be a part of the whole package It's barely been over a week since they've faced Hodai, however, and now, she's here, with arguably worse injuries.

.... Umie's glad Ren wasn't there this time to witness those deaths, at least. That's enough to give most people nightmares, including her, despite thinking she'd seen it all. Demons can die in cruel, violent ways, after all... It was shocking at first to her much younger brain, but she had gotten used to it the same way someone would get used to violence on a nature documentary. Even if a demon is almost completely human shaped, they are not bound by humanity, expressing themselves and holding themselves to a different credo that Umie had gotten far too used to.

"All of that, for me?" The question is presented like a quip, but there's a part of it that feels moved by the extra steps Akechi took. And so, when the next words come, they're warmer, unable to hold back as she accepts that sandwich. "Thank you, Akechi-kun."

So much irony, and only Akechi is in a position to appreciate it.

She eats the sando, careful not to overextend her right wrist any, from where Ruin slammed into it. "Mm. Did you happen to have something to drink on you?"

After that, Umie broaches one subject, at least. "By the way, have you heard from Amamiya-kun at all?" She frowns. "I've been trying to figure out what to text him in regards to that day, but I keep coming up blank. Plus, with everything going on..." SHe motions with her chin.

"Which... is another reason I have to thank you, for being there. I think that's why he took everything so well." Obviously.

Pause. "... You... *were* there, right?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"Haha... it has been offered but- I don't think I'd be much of an actor, myself." He says with a touch of good humor and no small amount of irony. "Besides, shows like that have such a rigorous filming schedule, that I'd have to give up being a Detective entirely."

Would it drive him bonkers? Perhaps not- after all, he desires validation, acclaim. At the same time, he wouldn't get it for being himself. He'd get it for the ''role'' and his talent playing someone else.

It would drive him up a wall, because he wouldn't be loved in and of himself, and he'd know it.

He shakes his head, snorting at her end result, that half-smile on her face and the 'I brought you food, stop asking me'.

How can a man who has murdered people be so obsessed with eating healthy? It's a good question, but Akechi would guess it's because he lives such a rigidly disciplined life.

... and Goro Akechi, despite doing so on the surface as the High School Detective Prince, is anything but in many other ways...

"Yes I decided to show you my acting skills by playing the role of the doting grandmother." He quips back, "You aren't eating nearly enough, Akabane-chan. Here, have some junk food."

When she asks if he has something to drink on him, he brings out a Ramune bottle, placing it in front of her. "Of course I do. Though you will have to hazard not separating your trash for a time."

...

Then she opens the subject and-

"After the incident with your ex-coworker slash stalker, we spoke briefly."

Though he won't say the context to protect their identity of course. "But not after- when I heard you were admitted to the hospital, I decided it'd be best if I spoke to you first... just in case."

He crosses his arms, "After all, wounds such as these beg questions from your friends that you may not want to answer."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Validation is a tricky beast to lure in, and one Umie is woefully unable to understand in the same way she'd understand loneliness. Of course she wants it, like any young adult...

The same goes for being loved. Her and Shiryuu bonded together with an almost magnetic force, simply because their loneliness played across that gulf of understanding in similar keys. Yet, both have families, and people who are concerned about them. Akechi, on the other hand...

The surreal idea of Akechi being a doting grandmother... Now, it's Umie who snorts. "Sorry, but I can't call you 'grandma'. My grandma would've brought apples or Nanbu crackers. Perhaps you are my caring doting brother instead?" she suggests, chuckling.

Not that she'd know what that was like, outside of media. What would Grandma Rie have thought of junk food...?

Those memories are hazy, like spring night fog.

The ramune soda is offered, and she takes it gratefully. "Don't tell me you didn't get yourself anything after all that running around," she says, one eye closed as she lowers the bottle down. "'Akechi-kun, you're not eating nearly enough. You're skin and bones!'"

ah, how the turns... table.

"... Well-" This is from another incident, she's about to say, but that feels like getting off the subject. "He doesn't need to know *that*. I'm mostly concerned that he's okay. You and I can laugh off a guy attacking with a vending machine, but he saw his co-worker get hurt by some random guy." Not to mention Kurou is convinced he'll have to break ties, but that heartbreak is another matter. "I guess... you've known him for longer, so I was just wondering what you think. Should I just... not say anything next time we're on shift together?" She carefully tips her bottle back. "I've never had this happen before, is what I'm saying. You operate on the edge of more worlds than one, so... I'm looking to you for advice."

Pause. It makes her feel a little too naked, just directly asking him for advice. So, she adds something, a touch impishly: "Afterwards, I might be persuaded to offer some of that information about what happened here, if you're looking for that."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Indeed, he made the comparison because it was so ridiculous. However, now that she calls him a 'caring doting brother' his smile wavers just a touch, then, "Well... it would certainly be more apt."

He's quiet, perhaps a little solemn on that one. What does Umie think of him? And he tried to murder her. Perhaps it would be a kindness, 'euthanasia' in a sense.

But...

He manages to come back to whenever she says he's skin and bones. "Of course I ate something on the way." He scoffs at her, "What kind of gift would this be if I immediately went? ... And by the way, I'll be taking half of it."

He leans back, arms still crossed, "Besides, I eat more than enough from my TV appearances- do you have any idea how much food an entire production crew has back stage?"

Akechi looks away as she speaks about the vending machine, "Well, one person was certainly laughing." He grouses, remembering the incident, before contemplating what Umie says and-

"I think some version of the truth that's palatable to a normal person is for the best." He says, and it's certainly ironic, given that Ren Amamiya isn't normal. "Then- if they remember more, you can go from there. After all, if they do, it's a sign they have the potential to become a Persona User themselves, one day."

It's a bunch of lies all put together to protect Ren's identity, that alone is amusing enough.

"Perhaps- you were attacked by a stalker at the con. He threw a steel chair at you. He's been jailed for now- while the cops investigate his crimes."

Reaching up, he rubs his eyes with a gloved hand, then, "Yes... I think I will ask. What did you get involved in after- everything that happened that put you here?"

A beat.

"And I'll do you a courtesy just this once and not play detective."

Surprising. But he does truly feel bad. Ordinarily he'd mess with her and ask questions that outright accuse her just to see how she reacts.

He holds up one finger, "I know you were shot by a small caliber firearm, which is what put you here." He holds up a second finger, "And the timing of your admission coincides with that incident involving the research vessel striking the Narumi Memorial Hospital. ... That is what I've deduced already."

Such genius detective work, so wow, given that he's the one who put her here.

</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "It would be," Umie reflects, a second later, as if realizing a similar notion at about the same time. Ghh... she was never like this _before_, but she also didn't have people she could even mention the presence of the supernatural. Even people like Toki, who would be trustworthy at the very least...

But she actually does feel a bond of trust with Akechi, despite his more eccentric traits, despite knowing him for a far shorter amount of time. And for Akechi, Umie wonders, what lurks beyond his own hesitancy?

Perhaps it's to do with his detective work, she reasons. She's probably being to chummy with him.

She'll just blame the pain killers, like a proper adult!

'By the way, I'll be taking half of it.' "Ah, ah, good. You're growing boy andddd... I'm sorry, I can't continue with that," Umie snickers. "And is that so...?" She ponders, tilting her head. "... So that's your real reason... I see..." She's kidding!

Well, one person was certainly laughing, Akechi recounts. "I guess I lucked out..." Umie idly muses. "All I remember is people coming, and..." That Shiryuu came for her. Kurou, coated in glass, moving so fast it was like he was dancing with his weapon. That Akechi's shoulder felt hard. That she ruined things. That Ren said things, and for some reason, she just trusted it.

That was definitely the concussion talking.

Ren is, of course, a normal person, what do you mean, Akechi. Akechi does bring up a consideration Umie's pondered before, in passing: the potential. "... Doesn't that worry you? Sure, he'd have plenty of people who'd help him, like us, but. Pushing that aside, could you handle him knowing about those sides of you? Or that he'll be dealing with the Dark Hour?"

Not all of this is just about Ren: Umie also wants to know what Akechi thinks about this matter himself.

As for the rest, Umie seems to invite the question. "Go ahead. I can't promise I can tell you everything-- after all, some things are dangerous just to know, right?"

Like disembodied mummified heads. Akechi's words on that are not ones Umie's forgotten.

'And I'll do you a courtesy just this once...' "My, my," Umie's hands jerk again, and she stops them, continuing on, "how courteous of you." Akechi may appreciate the way Umie's arms and body jerk, responding to those impulses to express herself, then immediately declining as ow ow ow ow.

As long as she thinks in abstracts, it's easier to lay quips like little bombs around, and not be distracted by the dark matters that lack coherent shape in Umie's mind.

She'll at least confirm his points. "Mmhmm," Umie says. Augh, she so wants to put her hand on her hands to mime listening to a story about Akechi's day.

The ship. Yes. Her expression stills as her mind touches on it, unable to make sense of any of it.

She gives a sigh.

"... And what do you think happened there?" she asks. Her eyelids lower slightly. "Then I'll know what I can tell you."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Akechi at the very least, doesn't explore the issue. Like so many things, he puts away uncomfortable subjects for later. He's so good at compartmentalizing things. Blood had always mattered so much to him that the idea that there can be the possibility of family without had never occurred to him.

Mostly because, without the ties of blood, who would ever want to be around him or be his family?

Of course, the moment she knows the real him, it wouldn't matter anyway. And even if by some miracle it were otherwise, soon enough, she'll be gone.

He snorts at her growing boy comment, "And you're ''not'' a growing young woman any longer. So I have to suspect you only wish me to grow taller in order to reach the top shelf for you."

Well he gives as good as he gets.

There was definitely a concussion talking. And he certainly didn't contribute to it by just dropping her, nope.

If you think that, then your memory is being affected by concussion.

"You did. And I just so happened to be in the area." He says, with a shit-eating grin which lets Umie know that he absolutely suspected something was coming and was there because of her.

Doesn't it worry him though? About Ren.

"Could I handle that?" He pretends to look contemplative, "Yes, I do believe I could. We all have our secrets. Things we keep hidden from even our friends. From interests we'd rather not reveal- to something such as this."

It's a step forward that he can even say Ren is a friend now- but Akechi you definitely can't handle Ren as they are right now.

"Sometimes these things come out. Whether by happenstance or- artifice. It's best to assume any secret you're keeping could one day be learned by someone in your life."

Of course, him being Ruin he finds very unlikely anyone could because he's too smart for it hohohoOHOHOHOHOHO.

"Yes, I offer very courteous courtesies." As he quips back her way. "The most courteous, of course." Before he then frowns as he saw that wince, but then settles back.

"On that I'm uncertain of the exact details. However... in the aftermath I found an anonymous rumor post in Dark Side of Sumaru that's been circulating for about a week that allows me to make certain deductions..."

Goro Akechi steeples his fingers together, "...someone has altered your family history by rumor to tie you to the Ryouhara clan, your family line being the lineage of a mythological Princess named 'Unohime'. Furthermore, they linked that to a research vessel known as the Mizunagi, which was supposed to smuggle recently unearthed artifacts regarding this altered history."

He then looks beyond towards Umie, waiting on their reaction, "The manifestation of a rumor can be unpredictable at best. My guess is that- the rumor manifested in a way that the one who wrote it could never have expected."

That much is quite true! He never would have expected ''that'' to happen.

"Somewhere in the incident regarding that 'manifestation' you were shot."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Akechi has full confirmation of what Umie would do and act, right there, right? She'd hate him, and even when she asked if he was cursed as well, he'd feel no reluctance in throwing it right back at her, while keeping her in the dark just how doomed she is.

All of his statements could be taken in more than one way, and the truth is beyond what Umie can imagine, no matter what jokes or caustic ponderings she's made aloud.
... Or even dreamed.

'And you're ''not'' a growing young woman any longer.' Umie tsks. "Rude."
'So I have to suspect you only wish me to grow taller in order to reach the top shelf for you.' "And what do you think I have Amamiya-kun do?" (As well as other employees, but Ren is most relevant here.) She shamelessly admits to it!

Good for Umie, though, that Akechi is just as shameless, admitting he 'just so happened' to be in the area. "Uh huh..." She takes another bite of her egg sando, switching over to the ramune soda, one eye closed. "How can I ever doubt that radiant smile of yours..."

The subject of Ren, and in turn how Akechi would treat such things in general, is handled with more seriousness. She listens, taking in Akechi's viewpoint, stifling a smile as she hears him indirectly confirm he considers Ren a friend.

"... It's scary to consider." Perhaps, Akechi's secrets aren't as deep, or he's more prepared for them to eventually come to light. "That this is a risk that we have to take, just to engage with other people."

But in turn, because he shares this, he hears an admission from Umie, whether unwelcome or no: she considers him a part of this strange 'grouping' she's made in her mind.

Will he appreciate that, when she has no idea the man who almost killed her is sitting nary a meter or two away from her?

"I'd expect nothing less than the highest courtesies from you," she says right back, unfortunately fumbling over how to continue. To court his courtesies? No, she's not courting him, she's courting the gumpy shinobi who is currently being a terror to his nurse, who is having none of his attitude.

Ahhh, her prince-

".... eh?" Umie casts a blank look at Akechi. No, she was *not* expecting this at all. So now, with Umie's blessing, Akechi gets to reap his just rewards, borne from the seeds he himself planted. "My wrist hurts when I hold up my phone for that long, and it's outdated, so... I... haven't been keeping up..." Blink, blink. "How."

"How the hell." The Ryouharas. "Uno.... hime...? I'm... what?" no, Umie, your descendant is a princess, not you, silly!

Umie takes a breath. "Wait, no. Rumors can't be *that* powerful. It's just things that are easy to change, like..." Shops selling weapons! Easy. ".... My parents met up north, in Aomori." And there's a Ryouhara branch in Akita... "The Order must be behind this somehow... because... Uh."

The egg sando lies forgotten, in her hand. "... Wait, you're just pranking me, aren't you?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"Obviously you need a backup." Akechi says, of that being Amamiya's purpose. "And one for supernatural shelves."

He knows FULL WELL she can 'jump good' when powered up.

"It is." He agrees with her on how frightening it is, "But it is a small price to pay for the power we wield. In a sense, without it- both of us would be helpless to even perceive a whole part of the world we live in, much less do anything about it."

He inhales, then shakes his head, "Just imagine what our lives would be like if we were in the middle of this without our powers... or even where you might be right now."

Umie however is incredulous when at first delivered the news of the rumor, and Akechi watches her reaction.

"You would love it if I said 'Just Kidding' right about now... but no I'm not pranking you." He says with a solemnity, "I'm quite serious. Whoever spread the rumor was utilizing the fervor of those invested in the 'History Boom' in order to make certain it would take hold."

He looks up at the ceiling. Then takes a deep breath and-

"Honestly, I am beginning to believe the power of Rumors is without limit. The boundaries were never about whether something is easy to change- but whether it is a rumor that remains within the public consciousness. That it continues to live 'Rent Free' in people's heads, so to speak, far beyond wherein they've heard it. The more people you can convince..."

He allows that to linger for a time, with the implication obvious.

"... It's quite terrifying. However, the more fantastical the rumor- the easier it is for people to dismiss it. As it stands- the idea that you're descended from a Ninja Clan's Princess isn't that difficult for people to accept, since they think it came from the Honmaru Park dig site."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> ... How is Akechi managing to make something she was afraid of suddenly sound fun? "Supernatural shelves, eh..." She stalls, glancing to the side with a rueful expression. "... Now you have me wondering what a Persona of somebody like Amamiya-kun would even look like." Maybe something like that confident, mysterious persona (lower case p) Ren had during the cosplay convention...

_wait, no, why is she seriously thinking about this_ "... Then, let's agree that, if Amamiya-kun *does* have a Persona hiding inside him--" ha ha ha Umie hasn't realized that Potential had a capital P "--we'll make sure he adjusts just fine." Why does Umie look so serious

And indeed, Umie is quite nimble at scaling up obstacles that would be normally impossible, even for someone who's tall. (... though, Shiryuu found out the hard way that Umie has been doing some bouldering of her own and is willing to use it on him.)

At least she feels better about it. "I suppose. I've had mine--" Badb, that is "-- long enough that it's hard to imagine life without her. Is it like that, for you and yours? Even if it's a shorter time frame, going through Mementos by yourself..."

Where would she be, without her powers? She makes a face, as she considers it. It's a rhetorical question, meant to lead to the obvious answer of 'they'd be dead'. The answer would be the same here, as well; her survival would have depended on another set of events to happen: her heart condition being found out and treated, for instance.

She forcefully glazes over it, turning her attention instead on poor, poor Akechi. "Mm, are you implying that even you would be over your head?" It's a fake question, a diversion from something she doesn't want to think about. A contradiction in her logic, that strikes like a lightning bolt far too close for comfort.

'What if things aren't as random as they should be?'

Like an answering chime of a bell, the next topic hits nearly the same note: a rumor, about her and the Ryouharas, tied to the same burial site that birthed the History Boom in Sumaru City, as Akechi pinpoints. "... So it plants the seed of belief, and spreads from there as the belief is confirmed, like a feedback loop. Just like the stories of Kurosu, Amano, and Suou-- enough to spawn a small shrine near the sanitarium. And then there's Wang Long; Ishigami-san could say anything at this point, and it'd come true."

It's not even about belief, anymore. "Like an information virus. Just you telling me, or me reading it later, makes us a part of its spread. The only way for something like that to properly die would for it to be forgotten, or for the public to move onto something else."

But the fact that she, Umie Akabane, normal boring konbini worker, and the Ryouharas, a family of shinobi that do not interact with the public, makes it suspicious, in a way.

"Do you ever wonder why it's here, in Sumaru City, that rumors can work like that? It's always been a strange city, but Tokyo has its share of strange districts. Sumaru City, though... it's like a 'Mementos' onto itself."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"Certainly it would have glasses and an apron." Akechi says cheerfully. "I'm guessing Fire Element, after all, Amamiya-kun devotes so much of their free time to making the perfect cup of coffee."

Of course, those are all lies he's curating to keep her away from the truth, since he's not certain if she knows- or what she knows or not.

"Of course we will. I've actually introduced several people to this world, believe it or not."

Including one of the Phantom Thieves but he's not gonna say that!

"My Persona..." Akechi pauses, thinking of how to describe it then, eventually- "I see it as one of my limbs, I suppose. It's been with me for so long that it truly is that much a part of me." As for whether he'd be in over his head without one?

"Of course. Does it surprise you that I'd think that? If I can't perceive the supernatural long without remembering it, then there's no way for me to interact with it. Now- that's not to say a Persona User is invulnerable."

He strokes his chin in thought, "I suppose that without one, it's not impossible I could take them in a fight, under the right conditions- with preparations, but- how would I know to prepare at all for the eventuality that the supernatural is real?"

Akechi does indeed actually have plans for if his Persona powers were somehow sealed. A necessary eventuality given the things the New World Order is coming up with.

Umie explains in her own way what he surmised about rumors, and eventually he nods, "The issue is that one cannot predict how it will be spread- or what form it takes within people's minds. In a sense, it's like a telephone game. It's likely that if everyone has different 'conceptions' of the rumor, then it is difficult for it to form."

He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms again, "As it stands, there's not much room left for interpretation in the rumor I saw posted- so it likely has become reality. Your family lineage has changed."

Then she asks a good question, and he looks right at her, "I think the answer for why it can happen is rather simple, actually. I think some God or Devil has taken an interest in Sumaru City, personally. And perhaps we already know 'whom' it is- given our good friend, Tatsuya Sudou."

The good friend part he says with a most sarcastic tone, of course.

"You said his name once to me yourself." He prompts, "Though how does one fight something like that? ... That, I do not know."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Sureeee, they're lies designed to lead Umie astray, and not just you having some fun, Akechi. "Glasses and an apron..." Umie's expression goes flat. "I'd... think he'd probably like something that didn't remind him of his evening shift the next day."

More bewildering is how Akechi openly admits to helping introduce several people to this world. "What, using the Persona Game? Or you mean help them get a handle on what's going on?" She frowns. She's tried to do the same for the Phantom Thieves, though who knows how well she really helped, once they got past her initial understanding of things. "How do Mask-sans even... become Mask-sans, anyway? Is it just... you have a potential to become a Persona User, and you... just have a mask, instead of... the other types?"

Hearing Akechi describe how his Persona is to him (which is, of course, Robin Hood), the blonde's face relaxes; she breathes, eyes closing. "... yes." No wonder that it's so painful, when it's hit when manifesting.

Does it surprise Umie that Akechi would admit to that reality? Maybe not entirely, as his success comes from somewhere, but hearing him take that question and answer it seriously does allow Umie to feel a mote of respect for him to admit to it. (... _unlike a certain shihaisha_, but it *does* allow a point for her to jab.)

Furthermore... "... So you noticed that too." This may mean Amamiya-kun will forget, perhaps. "At first I wondered if it was just a response to trauma, but given how reliably it happens... maybe it's tied to the way some people develop Personas and some don't."

"But yes." Umie looks to her forgotten egg sando in her hand, and the bandaged spot where that bullet hit, now covered by her hospital gown. "Bullets still work. If it weren't for my Persona, I likely would have bled out before I got proper care. Blood thinners complicate a lot of things." She tilts her head, giving Akechi a cheeky lopsided smile. "Ah~ oops, I let something slip. Please do ignore."

Akechi has his eccentricities, and has his own issues with becoming close to people (or whatever private matters that brought Ren to his doorstep), but his forward direction sometimes runs in a similar manner to Umie's own, though she cannot understand what drives someone to have a 'Justice' behind it, whether personal, or something more like Katsuya's own. It makes talking about these bigger phenomena feel like she can get somewhere.

.... Even if it means having to sometimes stare a few demons (of the personal kind) in the face. But isn't that part of looking into a mystery, or trying to reach past that locked door?

"... Like with the Sevens rumor." Umie nods. "You'd have to predict how people would act as a whole, not just logic your way in and hope people appreciate you trying to solve some problem." She takes another bite of her egg sando, finally, switching to the ramune soda. "But who would do a thing like that, I wonder..." She did. Look, she's even closing one eye as she says that.

"Which means... somebody thought it'd be fun to play with my family bloodline. Kind of scary, but I can't even think back to any further relatives aside from my grandma."

As for what? "... a God or Devil, huh..." The ramune bottle is set back on the sidetable, as Umie sits with her thoughts, the intermittant beep of the monitors presenting a constant ticking of some clock. "If it really was something like that, why use rumors, when you could just 'do', if such things exist. But there is definitely something that is being served by all these coincidences..."

"... Nyarlathotep." She remembers Ruin's words. "If it's anything like the thing in the short stories, it feels like something that delights in our suffering. That it's all just a game..."

There's a thread of anger laid underneath those words.

"... You keep trying, is what you do. Over and over. You resist."
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>"Probably, but one doesn't get to pick the look of one's Persona. Not really." He smirks at Umie. He does like Robin Hood, certainly- but he understands that if he could have chosen its look, he would not have made it quiteeee so over the top.

As to her question- he shakes his head, "Oh, no, I mean as in having given them an 'orientation' of sorts once they had awakened. I don't try to make it happen."

That's perhaps one of his biggest lies tonight, of all of them.

"As for that... to be perfectly honest. I'm not certain. Not even the Metaverse is a necessary factor, from my observations. One person I know awakened in Sumaru City."

He won't say who of course.

"It is a mystery, the combination of factors that are involved- whether there is some 'patron' who determines such, or otherwise. There are simply not enough clues at this time- only patterns."

It is easy to admit that if one was helpless- they'd be helpless, even for a prideful person like Akechi.

It is after all, only hypothetical.

"Exactly. And unfortunately there could be other factors as well. Rumors are after all 'unnatural' and none of us are given a set of rules. It could be certain people possess a 'back door' of sorts to make rumors take hold of more easily."

Like say a Severed Mummy Head in a Shrine.

"Yes, it is quite terrifying. It's- not impossible that one could use a rumor to change fundamentally who you are as a person. However, as Persona Users we at least seem to have ''some'' natural resistance... and well- it is my belief at least that as a celebrity- I'm partially immune to such drastic changes to begin with. Too many people out of Sumaru City know who I am and have a soild conception of that."

So being a celebrity at least makes it difficult for someone to suddenly go- 'Goro Akechi is actually a girl raised as a boy' or the like.

"However that doesn't mean certain... creative rumors couldn't get around it. Uncertainties- voids to fill within one's past with tabloid gossip... you understand what I'm saying."

Nyarlathotep.

"The man from Egypt, who has legions of followers. In a sense, perhaps the New World Order is... that, for him."

You keep trying, is what you do. Over and over. You resist.

"Well, if it were true Lovecraftian horror. One is unable to resist. But- that doesn't mean it has to be that way. One should resist until the bitter end."

And burn down the world around you in your fury.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie opens her mouth, as if to object; she then thinks further on it. "... Yeah," she murmurs. "Badb's look changed very little, despite how young I was when I first summoned her." She pops the last bite of her egg sando into her mouth, drinking her ramune. "Younger me probably would have appreciated something more... girly?" But Umie can see something feminine in the cold veined skin, whipped fabric, and nails, a creature of death and violence manifested, confident in her domain, restless when she's not. A devil of broad strokes and pointed fingers, reflecting the smile and chaotic energy of a person whose best plans have as much of a chance to fail as to succeed.

"Yours is certainly more heroic-looking, but like you said, it's through the lens of Robin Hood as the trickster. He had his own justice, separate from the law that made his trickery necessary." That's the fun part, isn't it? Akechi can say one thing, and Umie will fill the rest of the narrative to make it logical. Whether it brushes up against the truth or not wouldn't matter.

Umie wouldn't have any reason to disbelieve that Akechi had an intentional hand in the awakening of more than one person, including a Phantom Thief. "The question is... did that Metaverse app appear on phones before or after a person summoned their Persona? If before, would it be something in the cognitive world responding to something in that person, or is it an intentional 'tuning' of that potential into something else?"

She has her reasons for wondering the latter, having pondered what was similarly 'tuned' by her Mark, and by extension, Nyarlathotep. However, the idea that other 'patrons' exist never occurred to Umie, if her head tilt indicates anything. "A patron, huh... well, I hope that 'patron's' more fun than mine." She grins, eyes twinkling merrily. "Sounds like someone mischievous, to like masks and hiding so much~" oh, Umie, how wrong you are... "But yeah. All we have are patterns. There's just as much indication that there's nothing there but a narrative that gives everything cohesion."

Certain people, having more of a 'back door' to influencing rumor... "But wouldn't that be a rumor to make that a thing?" Umie supposes. "Rumormongers are often seen as more adept because of their knowledge of goings on. To imagine a mysterious person or organization is more adept just because of some hidden reason... that could be a deadly thing to spread." oh she wants to shake her finger so bad ughh "Outside of intelligent debates between two people willing to think of the possibilities, of course." She'll wink at him. That works.

It *is* terrifying. But, in talking about it, it feels like something she can play with in turn over, rather that broil her mind in endless 'what if's and ruminations. Goro Akechi, second coming of the detective prince, may be more immune, for example... "... While in comparison, 'that runaway Akabane girl' is someone with a lot smaller thumbprint," Umie builds on. "The collective idea of who that person is is easier to edit; that, or reality is just edited around that person. Your background, for example."

Her eyes center on Akechi and sit there, intentionally. What Umie has to determine her theory of what Akechi's background is will be based on evidence as loose as the evidence she had that Akechi was a Persona user, the specifics aren't needed here. "... A rumor can start that you are the son of someone famous. A famous movie star," no she's not going to choose politican after having to stare at that damn bouquet for what feels like way too long "... and that's how you got your start, and where you got those good looks. But it'd have to be a mystery who it is; all the better to construct a story that is interesting, and feed into the image you've projected."

Indeed, Umie understands what Akechi is saying. As for Nyarlathotep... "From what I remember, a lot of it was the protagonist slowly recalling the horrors of what he saw. Like he was a passive observer, unable to affect a greater being's plans," she murmurs, softly. "For the sake of a short story, it's necessary. But for those of us on the chessboard, we make do with what we have."

'One should resist until the bitter end' is a fine thing for someone like Akechi to say. But for the person underneath that pleasant face of his... it means something different.

And for the blonde, with her worries of a possible Dark Hour visit from Ruin, implications of things larger than her rumbling in the details, and a worrying sensation of what may come next... she does what she does best: act like she's not as scared as she actually is, deep inside.

"A boring pawn is disposed of quickly, or when it outlives its usefulness. A pawn that resists your hand... wouldn't that be the sort a being like Nyarlathotep would find more interesting? Even if it will always eventually move according to your wishes... it's the struggle that may be more interesting to see."

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.

"Well in a Jungian sense, a Persona is a mask one wears to present themselves to society. In our case, a 'mask' which allows us to face the supernatural on equal terms..."

Akechi raises a gloved hand, palm up in a one sided shrug, "... if your younger self didn't equate 'femininity' with agency in such spaces, it makes sense that Badb would not be especially 'girly'."

So what does that mean about Robin Hood, then? Nothing, shut up. Akechi for one isn't going to discuss its aesthetics and what they mean aloud.

"Indeed so, and just like him- I have my own Justice, which is distinct from the laws of this country, even if I often align with them."

He leans back and crosses his arms, "Robin Hood's antagonists were Prince John and the villainous Sheriff of Nottingham... but they were corrupt usurpers of a more just King... Richard the Lionheart in many versions of the tale, whom Robin had pledged fealty to."

In other words, it's not exactly a contradiction that Robin Hood follows the law ''he'' believes is Just, rather than the current law of the land.

"Before." Akechi says to Umie, with a certainty, "Not everyone necessarily notices it, but it always appears shortly before the event in question. Whether it's a matter of days, hours or mere minutes. While I don't have proof of this in every circumstance- I do in a great many."

As an example... Ichika. Though he's not about to mention how he knows that.

Again, he lifts his arm as a shrug, "While I have no confirmation, I suspect it responds to something known as the 'Will of Rebellion'. Nor can I answer you on precisely ''what'' it is- or how it comes to be in some individuals."

Placing a hand upon his chin, "If I had to speculate, it primarily seems to be a part of those individuals who have suffered some sort of grave injustice- and do not accept it as simply the way of the world, but as something wrong that must be opposed."

He takes his hand away from his chin as they talk about the 'patron'. "Perhaps. But we are speaking of gods and devils. Even the most benevolent deity can be just as much a devil in our mythology."

There's a soft chuckle, as he thinks upon it, "I would not bet on the idea that such patrons are necessarily better- even if I doubt they could be much worse."

Naturally he hasn't spoken to Ren on this one. Naturally. And has no intention of doing so... even implying he knows something, would give away so much.

Settling back and crossing his arms again, "Well, how do you think the New World Order came to be?" He poses this question, in regards to such dangerous rumors, "Do you really think such an organization was built up naturally- when it bases itself in a city where rumors can change the nature of our world?"

Indeed it's quite clear that Akechi doesn't think it was. Despite it having began years before he could have possibly been a part of it to know for sure.

"Indeed so. The less people know about you, the easier it is to believe such fanciful things as you being a Kunoichi Princess in a Ninja anime." He says with a smirk, "Whereas for me- well, like I said, I understand full well where my past would be vulnerable to rumors."

But, that's partially why he stays so abreast, so he can perform ''counterplay'' immediately when rumors opposing him begin.

Umie however, spells it out, and there's a sigh, and another shrug, "Yes exactly. And people would prefer to believe that I such a lineage, because it's more comfortable within their narrative of how I'm so competent and talented."

He looks up at the ceiling, "Otherwise, it would force them to reconsider their narrative of those left within foster care as being the children of degenerates- who will be a drain on their society for the rest of their lives."

Yep, he stays right on top of those rumors. The last thing he needs is for someone to change the fact Shido is his father. That would make all his work towards this vengeance ''moot''.

"Yes, that's exactly the essence of it. The eldritch- the unknowable, laughs at our attempt to have any sort of agency. But that does not mean they have to be correct..."

There's a chuckle, "I actually rather detest Lovecraft's themes. But still- it seems it was worth reading after all."

There's a pause at the idea of what he finds the most interesting.

"I... hesitate to say that he'd necessarily find them more interesting. I won't claim to understand the mind of such a being as the one we might face. But if I had to guess..."

...
...
...

It's a terrible memory, staring so deeply into Takahisa Shinjo's eyes. Knowing how small he truly was in comparison. Whether he could defeat him or not, wasn't the question. It was how small he was to what was behind those eyes.

"... I would say that they find our attempts to make ourselves more interesting- to resist their will... amusing, at best."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> TOO LATE, Umie's already looking at Akechi with one of those slightly squinty looks, as she thinks of exactly that, because it's a good point. While Akechi's enamored with Sherlock Holmes, his Persona embodied the traits of a 'purer' hero archetype, signifying a drive for justice than the themes of Sherlock Holmes would directly support.

The Badb is a gargoyle, meant to scare away all the scary things that could come gobble a delicious little girl up.

"... Yeah." Umie frowns. "I may have wanted a pretty fairy tale princess then, but that wasn't what I *needed*. And you... it's not about the mystery, but that your Justice is served. King Richard isn't coming back from the crusades anytime soon, and there are plenty of Prince Johns and Sheriff of Nottinghams to deal with. You didn't need a Sherlock Holmes, you needed a Robin Hood."

Or a Loki...

"Before," Umie parrots, with a blink. "It's just weird, to have it be because of a manmade device. You'd think a mirror, or... magic words." She tilts her head with a lopsided grin. "You think it gets updates every once in a while? Maybe one day there'll be ads added... Then you'll know it was evil all along."

The concept Akechi mentions, however... "A... Will of Rebellion? As opposed to A Will of Justice?" She considers, the fingers of her right hand jerking up in a complusive track to her chin before she forces them back down. "Well, no one's going to keep us from theorizing, right? I want to hear what you think."

She listens, nodding slowly. "With the Phantom Thieves, then, maybe it was a spark of 'rebelling' against people like that school coach-- not that that was their genesis, since they would have had to find each other first." She gestures now to Akechi, with her chin. "And with you... I could see it being your 'Justice'. Just because it corresponds with the law of the land doesn't mean you're less of a rebel, if that's what you're holding in your heart."

"Is this just a general term you've heard, like how we all call it the 'Dark Hour'?"

A rebellious means of becoming a Persona user... "Trickster gods weren't the greatest beings, yeah," Umie laughs. "Even a 'gift' of fire can mean the gods suddenly see you as a danger to them."

Wills of Rebellion and what a 'Mask-san' is is pleasant enough topic, but the NWO...

No, it's clear from Umie's face that she *hasn't* ever considered the possibilities. "Huh... I guess... there's nothing that *disproves* it, exactly," Umie ponders. "It was easy for me to assume they've just always been there, influencing things. So you're thinking..."

Her gaze travels out towards the lone window, half covered by the bouquet of white roses.

The beginnings of snow travel down in light trails, beginning to coat the branches of the trees outside.

"By first snow..."

".... It's possible," she concedes, again, as if trying to wrap her mind around it, but finding herself unable to.

As possible as the reality of all the foster children left to age out in foster homes, looked at as a drain on society.

Like small dots in the giant monster of society, forced to walk a labyrinthian maze.

Or dots of frozen ice against an eldritch being, an idle, passing fancy.

"It'd have to be something born from us though, right? It can't be a true god, even in the kami sense."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Has one considered that he's partially enamored with Sherlock Holmes because- and this is true, Sherlock Holmes was kind of an asshole? As are many of the Detective archetypes.

But indeed, it is true, that originally he believed that his Persona should embody a certain kind of Justice than that.

Children however are wont to believe in fantasies that can never come true.

"Well you can be one now for your 'beau' if you'd like." He says with a sense of wryness, when it comes to the Ryouhara. "But, that is certainly true. It is not even that there is an absentee 'ideal' ruling figure. It might in fact be that none exists at all- and because of that, corruption is rife amidst the elite and powerful."

He has thought a lot about comparisons of his mindset to that of why Robin Hood, how it marks his beliefs.

"Do you truly think it's so strange?" He says, as he keeps his arms crossed, "What of the Evoker? Such things are man made. And in this new information age where social media is on the rise- what better way to represent the 'interconnectedness' of the Metaverse. Mementos... the so-called 'Palace of Everyone's Hearts.' connects one, as social media might."

There's a chuckle at the idea of updates, ads. "Well. I doubt it would be so blatant. However- I do not believe the Metaverse Navigator is manmade at all. I believe it simply manifests upon cell phones as being representative of some aspect of the human condition."

Akechi then nods- and- holds out a hand. "Unlock your phone and hand it to me. I promise- I won't be searching your texts or mail. I just wish to show you something." He then takes out his very much locked cell phone. "Let us just say this is yours, currently. I have gifted it to you temporarily."

Should Umie comply, he taps the phone, then holds it up to show the Metaverse Navigator on her phone. "Because it's in my possession cognitively, the Metaverse Navigator is present." He then tosses it back to her on the bed. "Now, I'll be taking my phone back."

And as he does so, he indicates to her. "Now look for the Metaverse Navigator." And should Umie do so, it's gone, as if it were never there to begin with.

"It's not some magic trick. I believe it is literally a product of human cognition."

There's another small chuckle at the 'Will of Justice'. "Would one not call a 'Will of Rebellion' a 'Will of Justice'- if one is rebelling against injustice?" Akechi asks her pointedly. "Nevertheless, that is what I'm quite certain it is called."

And when she asks about how, "I heard it from my Persona, when I awakened." Akechi says quite simply, "It is the only time it has spoken to me. I suppose it's possible it was mistaken, or lying- but- for what reason would a Persona have to lie to me?"

Would even Akechi's own Persona lie to himself? Well... some questions are better not dwelled upon.

"Indeed so- if corruption is the law of the land, then is not rebellion Justice itself?" Is his simple answer to that idea, before then nodding again, "Tricksters are quite dangerous, in a sense. Many defy the will of the gods. Some are rebellious gods themselves who teach humility to their brethren. Either way- I wouldn't know if I had a 'patron' who is a Trickster. Or whether there is one at all..."

He shrugs yet again, "Unlike the dearly departed Sudou-san." He says drily, for calling him the dearly departed, "There has yet to be anyone who has spoken of an encounter with such an entity. ... Whereas Nyarlathotep has had his existence confirmed by a number of beings."

When Umie says she hasn't considered the prospect, he nods, "It's understandable you didn't. After all- neither of us has witnessed such a grand manifestation of a rumor. To 'create' an entire para-military organization. However, while there's no way to confirm it- I can't quite discount it either. There are too many strange elements about the New World Order that don't quite fit otherwise..."

Umie does concede it's possible, and he considers the prospect of whether it could be a true god, or one created from us. "I don't think- barring new concrete evidence there's any easy answer to that. What makes a 'true god' a 'true god'? What makes a god created by men? It soon enough becomes a 'Chicken or Egg' dilemma... which means we'd only be running about in circles."

Scootching to adjust his position some, he leans forward, "Now if you'd like, we can give it a try all the same. But I'll have you know- I would never associate with any girl who lays eggs."

He smirks, knowing it's a bad joke, but that she's likely to get it. After all, if man made the god themselves, then they'd have 'laid the egg'.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'Well you can be one now for your 'beau' if you'd like.'

---A WEEK OR SO FROM NOW---

Shiryuu slips out a knife, debating whether or not to plunge it in the back or chin of the person he sees as someone who has come, as she did with Hodai and others, to bring 'ruin' to his family.

No, not Ruin, but Umie Akabane, hohoho.

---NOW---

"I don't think he's going to appreciate it," Umie groans. "Besides, I think Amamiya-kun wore the dress better... though..." She hums. "I wouldn't have called 'Ran' a damsel in distress. More like a damsel *of* distress." A pause. "A damsel of 'this dress'."

You can leave at any time, Akechi. Umie has no ability to stop you, as she is now, as well as properly satiated with food.

"Double duty... having to be King Richard and Robin Hood all on your own..." she tsks with a teasing air. "What a busy life, to be a Goro Akechi. But..." she continues, gesturing lightly with her unslung hand, "That *is* a part of it, maybe. Maybe not what I meant by my joke, but it seems a Will of Rebellion is about embodying a double identity on top of it. There's plenty of rebellion to go around, from all sorts of Persona Users, but to be an rebel, Robin from Locksley has to shed his identity and become Robin Hood. The cognitive trick to it is far beyond anything I could do, either; my masks barely work beyond certain parameters." In order to survive, she had to know others, and have others know who she is, but also... a literal barrier it presents between herself and the Eldtritch Other, even if it is as flimsy as a child's belief in a fantasy that can never come true.

"You, meanwhile, just took pity on me, despite my lousy evidence." 'And revealed yourself' is the rest of that sentence.

'Do you truly think it's so strange?' "... Huh. That *is* true." Of course. Whether a phone, or a strange gun, it's still technology, much newer than a mirror. "There are people who've seemed to discover a similar mechanism, even," she continues. "While the Evoker is special, it seems to be tied with the Dark Hour, and the concept of dying. So, your theory is... the phones have the app because it's reflecting Mementos in a way, like how it itself reflects a 'Palace of Everyone's Hearts'." She considers, her eyelids slipping down halfway as she directs her gaze towards her lap.

But who's to say that Kurou is in a class all his own, having had to recover

"It'd explain a lot, if it was true." Still, when Akechi offers, it sparks a glint of curiosity in Umie's eyes. She carefully offers out her red phone, and accepts Akechi's. "Now let's see," she begins to tease--

Well, *that* was quick. "Holy cow," she squeaks, eyes wide in a raw glimpse of wonder. She then coughs, offering a dramatic sigh as her phone's tossed back.

"Alas, you did the bare minimum and had it locked." Umie says, as she offers his phone back. Probably was a burner phone, besides, but did it really have to look newer than hers...?

To rebel against injustice... "Maybe if I hadn't blacked out, I could've been a proper Mask-san," she jokes. "But I guess, in terms of injustice..." The Order did do her an injustice, yet it took Akechi to ask her before she seriously considered taking them down, rather than simply glare incompetently across that gulf of power.

Is she still there...?

Her gaze grows beyond Akechi, in that moment, as she considers what is the thing she considers being the biggest injustice.

A pause, a moment of consideration, before she lets out a performative sigh, closing one eye. "Alas, I just have a powerful manifestation of my true self that I can call on when I need to, as well as know when I'm able to. Oh no."

Just like Akechi was able to hear the voice of his Persona when he first woke up, and remember it. What voice would Badb have...?

They are all, in many ways, built on the whims of Tricksters.

"I can't help there, either. Besides, for all I know, I could've gotten an understudy," Umie comments wryily, on the topic of Nyarlathotep.

As for the NWO, yet again... "I arrived in Sumaru City about a decade back, but I suppose, even if I experienced a Sumaru City without the Order, I'd might not remember it. When did you, Akechi-kun?" Though, they'd likely both be too young to really be aware, or care about it.

"Maybe... it's like the historical rumors. The rumors about a ninja princess isn't too dissimilar to the ones of... what was it..." She tries to remember. "Tatsuosuke Suou, Junnosuke Kuroda, and Maihime," pause "Amano."

Like something trying to manifest a thing that shouldn't be.

She would be scared, but, with Akechi, she feels less scared and more like it's simply a mystery to plunder for secrets. "It's like a locked door, but... any lock can be broken or surpassed eventually."

Only, there'd be another door at the other end, and another, after that.

A girl... who lays eggs?

Umie cackles.

"Don't look at me, I just open unsuspecting boxes." She smirks. "Only the finest, gifted to me by the gods~ You should really try it out sometime; sometimes you find hope at the bottom."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"You might be surprised at the effect of a Princess dress on a man." Akechi says with a wry note of humor, "And please, Umemura-chan is definitely a damsel of transgress."

He quips, both rhyming and punning, terrible.

"Ha." He says with a grin, "I wouldn't say I aspire to ''rule'', Akabane-san... much less to be some ideal of Just rule."

That much is true at least. He would never want to merely take Shido's place, or to become the worst of all things, which is synonymous with Shido- a politician.

"Hm. Yes, I do suppose that is true. I can't say I understand how precisely it works." He says, lying through his teeth, "My being a celebrity I do believe weakened my protection over time. Granted, I didn't go to any great pains to conceal my identity either. I have no reason to."

After all, people do believe he's on the right side of the law.

"It is almost certainly a trick of cognition, that much is true. When I first awakened- if someone witnessed me with my 'Mask' on- if I left the room, and transformed back- they would not even suspect it was me."

He does give her a smug look because the fact is that- "Well I'd say you earned the pity. After all. A half-dozen people who were beside you the day you witnessed me take that form for the first time- had seen right through it."

Ouch. Way to rub it in.

"In essence, yes, that's it exactly. I can't confirm that certainly, as I don't know where the Navigator comes from."

He is certain it must come from ''someone'' though, despite it being a product of cognition. In fact, he knows who it comes from precisely.

It's just he can't say that he does.

"Haha... were you hoping to sift through my fanmail?" He quips, not telling Umie that indeed it's his real phone, and if only she could crack the code, she'd have all the evidence she needs to figuring out he's Ruin- eventually, if she followed the trail within.

Alas.

At the same time though, it rather sells he's not got anything sinister on that phone if he's just willing to throw it to someone, right?

"Perhaps." He says to the idea she could become a 'Mask'. "It is after all, only a guess. For all I know, there's another qualification that I'm not aware of."

And he suspects the same. Umie was never out for 'justice' or 'vengeance' in a sense, when they first met. Not in the same sense as Akechi.

But he's not about to say so.

Instead, he chuckles at her statement of an understudy. "Well if you want to out yourself as a Theater Kid in that way..."

Then, Goro Akechi considers the prospect of when he arrived, before eventually deciding upon, "Nine years ago. And the disturbing question is. Even if there were a Sumaru City before the Order... would anyone even remember it?"

He places a hand upon his chin, "Even historians are forgetting that Sumaru City used to have a very different historical record. Without a care about whether the new history is real- or counterfeit. After all, why would they have any reason to deny the reality before their eyes?"

He does nod slowly at the idea of the connection to the Sumaru legend, "Yes, I would argue that it was specifically crafted to slot nicely into the tale... it is too- 'tidy'- I'd say."

A locked door?

"My, how larcenous of you." He grins, at the idea of it being broken or surpassed eventually, "And what do you think would be found behind this door?"

Then Umie relates herself to-

There's a flicker of, something in Akechi's eyes- something inscrutable. "Hope and butterflies..." He says, quietly, to himself, to the idea of Pandora, trailing off as if he were lost in thought.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Ran Umemura, trans-gress---

"Iiii think that's up to Amamiya-kun," Umie says, with a wry grin. "But I guess you really can't help yourself, can you~"

However, in here, a rebel gifts a captive forbidden goods, and inflects his Justice on her.

(Or... would it be more fair to say he's 'infecting' her?)

"Then why is the outfit a band major? Everyone knows they're a few steps away." Her teasing lightens. "Joking aside, I don't see you as that type. You're.... more the type to put things in motion."

Like rumors.

'I have no reason to.' That, Umie seems to react to, giving Akechi a pensive frown. "... Even with the Order?" She thinks on it, offering her own answer, free of Akechi needing to provide any himself. "...Then again... It's harder, when you're by yourself. I got along easily enough because the Dark Hour is a different beast compared to Mementos. At some point, we both had to look outward, even if we both prefer working on own terms."

She had years, but Mementos threw so much of it back at her and forced her to reconsider the boundaries of these different realities, just like Tartarus did.

That confidence can only go so far before she's merely acting.

Ouch. Umie sighs. "Shame on me for trying to keep an open mind," she says, rolling with Akechi's punch. "It just seemed... too obvious?"

She *is* winking there.

So much of this is a pantomime of what they know and don't, secret identities hidden within secret identities. Knowledge hidden in plain sight, with Umie nonethewiser, as it passes from her hand to Akechi's.

After all, who would believe that the same person who landed Umie in this hospital is the same one chatting with her? Umie wouldn't. To consider that possibility would mean seeing an enemy in every friendly face, and to distrust even your own gut instinct.

Just like, to access the idea of what injustice was done to Umie, it means facing who is at the helm of it all, and just how intertwined Nyarlathotep became in her life, without the entity really having to lift a finger beyond the initial push or three.

"I've never heard of anyone Awakening a second time, so." It wasn't the Order, but Nyarlathotep. "How can someone get *more* awake?"

"Imagine all the juicy gossip hidden within..." The blonde shakes her head. "A forbidden garden of secrets, and secret admirers. I'll regret giving this phone up so readily..."

She jokes.

"Please, I've had to be the perfect daughter for most of my life. That has to count for something." She lets her head hit her pillow with an audible 'paff'. "Just like you have to pretend to be the relatable boy detective next door, always available to all your fans."

Nine years ago. "So... not too long after I did, really." What caused him to come here, assuming he was part of the same orphanage as Akihiko and Shinjiro? Was he adopted?

Something in Umie's gut disagrees with the possibility, despite the lack of solid evidence. There is a strange thirst to him, sometimes--

` .... But she dismisses it, like so many other things.

"I wonder if there's records outside of Sumaru City that could give clues. The Order can't destroy *everything*, and rumors don't seem to travel outside of the city," Umie ponders. "Then again, what would a person do with that knowledge? Seems like a great way to make yourself a target, too..."

But it's still a Door, and doors must be opened, eventually.

Even the ones that will hurt the most. "Listen," Umie laughs, "The Dark Hour gives you a lot of time to look at closed doors. It's natural that you'll want to open them, right? Even if there's nothing on the other side."

Hope... and butterflies. "...." She observes that look in Akechi's gaze for a fair moment, the sound of the hospital machines working away.

"Akechi-kun," Umie says, as another moment passes by, as she looks at him from her propped up pillow. "... What's on your mind."

It's a gentle prodding; for once, she doesn't supply the possibilities herself.

Ren's been a terrible influence.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"If I can, know that I need immediate medical attention." He quips, regarding being unable to help himself, before snorting at the idea of a band major, "It's not like I designed it, so I can only speculate. It likely has to do with Princely archetypes in the Shoujo of the seventies."

Which is, way before Akechi's time. Still he doesn't clarify how he knows them. "Many designs were along those lines."

He leans back, crossing his arms anew, "''Especially'' with the Order. For starters- I'm a Celebrity, so they'll be hesitant to kill someone so high profile, but even if that doesn't stop them..."

He makes eye contact with Umie, "... it only leaves them further opportunities to create new evidence, in solving the case. I for one say that you ought never to deter your enemy from making a mistake."

He's certainly confident, isn't he?

He chuckles at the idea it was too obvious, grinning at her wink, before she indicates-

"Ah, if you mean in the sense that you could become one now? I have no idea whatsoever."

He shrugs, lifting up both of his hands in an exaggerated gesticulation, "It might require that qualification during your first such awakening, or it might not. Who can say? How would one even test it?"

'relatable boy detective next door'

He smirks yet again, "If that were true, I would have sent out on social media that I was visiting you at the hospital." He jests, in regards to always being available to his fans. "But you do have a point."

Another nod, at it being not too long after she did, "Roughly the same time, yes. And I can't precisely know the circumstances of Sumaru City before that point- I wasn't exactly supernaturally aware, back then."

When Umie indicates that surely the Order can't destroy 'everything'- Akechi prompts her, "Check your phone. Search online for history of Sumaru City, see what you find."

And when she starts, he adds, "It's quite possible some record still exists- but if it does, I have not yet found it. Older editions in libraries and bookstores are gone, now replaced with more 'updated' versions. And Sumaru City is hardly noteworthy enough for textbooks to cover it in depth. No... one must check more niche history volumes."

However, when she asks him about what's on his mind, and he lowers his hand, and looks up. "Ah- the reference to Pandora merely made me think of something I read once regarding an unrelated incident, pay it no mind."

He finally straightens back up and asks, "So, do you have a time frame on when they think you'll be discharged? And do you need someone to pick you up?"

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'It likely has to do with Princely archetypes in the Shoujo of the seventies.' "And why your dashing rival looks like he's wearing victorian clothing," Umie prods back, with a smirk. "It matches well; a cognitive shorthand to indicate what an older Persona may not show in itself. But then again, with the Tengu mask..." And it makes sense, why Akechi would know, in Umie's mind. After all, she didn't know about a Badb. "Which makes me wonder... will these outfits change as a Mask-san gets older? It's interesting to consider."

Someone so high profile...

"It wouldn't be beyond them to knock someone down a peg or two," she murmurs. Her eyelashes lower halfway, as she considers Akechi right back. "There's more than one way to get something done. Scaring away your clients, or... making it so that you get associated with boring, mind-numbing cases. Opportunities to improve becoming pruned away, until you realize there's just a stump of your former life." She can't be too angry-- university just was what was the accepted trajectory.

'I for one say that you ought never to deter your enemy from making a mistake.' "My, my, I admire your confidence," she teases. "I'll have to remember that advice for next time."

The idea that someone could become something different? "Yeah. Who's to say what mysteries the human condition can hold?"

She pauses on it, for just a second. But not a moment more.

Whether it was having a Mark that attracted Nyarlathotep, or if Nyarlathotep wanted a Mark to happen, it's a space she's used to. If she was going to die of it, or transform into a distorted god, or whatever the hell would happen, it would have happened already.

It's just a pretty idea, and pretty ideas are as flimsy as the princes in shoujo manga, or hope and butterflies.

"I'm glad you didn't. It'd ruin our chat." She considers. "I wish there was more I could tell you about the cognitive space I and a few friends found ourselves in, but it may that you'll have to investigate yourself."

Ah, right, he'd be here for that, wouldn't he? She got so caught up in simply talking (and eating, let's be real) that she failed to give him anything of substance.

"All this chatting and I never gave you something for your trouble, eh? What a terrible confidant I am... But being shot..."

'I wasn't exactly supernaturally aware, back then.' "... Neither was I," Umie admits, with a wince. "Even after Awakening."

Looking back at her phone, Umie begins to tap on it, and frowns. "Just a cursory search, but... I'm not even sure *how* to search for it, now that I think about it." Her right hand begins to cramp up before she has a chance to type further, so she sets the phone back down. "Point taken, though. It's been long enough. Even something unrelated like the Dark Hour feels like it's been there forever, rather than something man-made."

But what's on Akechi's mind, specifically?

An unrelated incident, huh. "Which one," Umie says, with a subdued cackle. "Demons can tell you some pretty interesting things, you know."

Demons do, but they weren't the ones to tell her about what happened at Tamaki's former school, or St. Hermelin.

With her next breath, Umie's tone turns to a solemn whisper. "Be careful with that knowledge, whatever it is, Akechi-kun. I'd hate to see you disappear, you know?"

Finally, as Akechi straightens up, Umie's expression lightens, as if she said nothing at all. "I just have to promise my doc that I won't go lifting weights with my left arm or whatever," she says, closing one eye. "I'm certain they won't be able to keep me more than another day, at most, but with the way I came in, they've been dragging their heels."

She shrugs. "And most of *that* was just not having Badb with me when I got out of that zone next to the hospital. Blood thinners aren't fun."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
While he doesn't say too much about the archetype of his rival, there's another shrug at whether his costume might change, "I'm not actually certain. Mine hasn't, in three years- and I'm a very different person from who I was in middle school."

Or so he says. There are differences though- the differences between a civilian with rough edges, and a serial killer.

"Yes I do suppose it is ''possible''- that they could do that, especially if I were a normal detective." Akechi agrees, "But I doubt it. The New World Order wields a hammer, and looks at every problem like a nail."

Every Persona User, he might have said.

"So I'm not exactly shaking with terror here. Even should they send that 'one in the Black Mask' at me- he still requires the supernatural. I would be alerted that something is wrong before he had the chance to strike."

And after a moment, he adds- "We have had run ins before. In fact, I believe I mentioned to you once that he shot me."

Indeed... what mysteries the human condition can hold?

"Boundless." He says immediately, "Though that's not to say that they don't abide by a certain logic. After all-"

He reaches into a pocket, and pulls out...

His ray gun!

"-This is merely a model, obviously. If I pull the trigger." Which he does, while it's pointed at the ceiling. "Nothing happens. In the Metaverse however, the Collective Unconscious has a certain acceptance of the idea of 'laser pistols' from media."

That's not to say anyone taking a laser pistol in could do the same thing he does though! There's a certain trick to it, and one he's not like to give away soon.

"Well... for the Dark Hour at least, if you go on Dark Side of Sumaru, Persona Users can at least give a rough timeline of when it first manifested. Though accounts are- confusing."

He admits, "It isn't the same for the history of Sumaru City. After all- most people are under the impression, these are real findings, not the product of rumors. Why would they have reason to think rumors could work on such a grand scale?"

Umie though, asks on the specifics of which one, and he huffs out an amused breath, "Heh." Before he quips, "A certain incident at a box factory." He says, unseriously, "I hear all the woes of mankind were released- it's the origin story of your ex-fiance."

He then leans backwards, crossing his arms, "Oh I have no intention of going anywhere, Akabane-san. After all, what would you do without my sunny disposition as a part of your life?"

A beat.

"Still, I'll be careful." He promises, before she talks about her discharge, "Hm, well, understandable. After all, they do have to report all gunshot wounds to the police. ... On that note, what did you tell them?"

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Hm. Then maybe not." Akechi would have to be the one who has been a 'Mask-san' the longest, though Vesper could have been at it for longer. It counts for something, especially when his life would have been far more turbulent than Umie's.

(She had it in her head that Akechi Awakened much later, but still, it may have been a matter of what questions she had asked, and what facts she got mixed together. That could have been when he had found Mementos. So many things to keep aware of!)

Does he say those things with real confidence, or is it just a front, like she often tries to project? "... A bullet can undo a lot of things, Akechi-kun..." At least, by the point, her concern for Akechi is well-established. But what would she say, if she knew the entirety of who Goro Akechi is?

Her trailing off is rebutted with Akechi's reminder of his own run-in with Black Mask.

"Aha, that's right. I guess we have one more then in common now, huh?" Umie chuckles. "I'm honestly half expecting him to come walking up the next Dark Hour, but I suppose... he may be stuck in that dimension still."

With her gaze turned away by this point, it's hard to wager what she feels. Is Joker stuck there as well?

"I doubt that'd be enough, to slow him down," she murmurs, softly. "I'm not sure I can forget what it felt like, to have that gun pointed at me. What was I thinking, going after a man's heart..."

Her chin dips, her eyes narrowing. "Sometimes I question what sort of person I am in those moments. It's ridiculous, to taunt someone so powerful, but it felt like the only way to regain control of the situation." Because he was taunting her. She knows that.

Akechi doesn't need to know that, she thinks. He would have never done something so reckless.

Looking up towards Akechi's ray gun--

--she smiles, and then laughs. "I remember when you brought that out in that one Palace. I don't know why, but at the time, it felt comforting."

"I don't think if I tried it it'd work as well, though," Umie supposes. "The way you hold it with confidence..."

Maybe she's reading into it too much.

Between the Dark Hour, and Sumaru City... "And even Sumaru City's reputation as being a weird city where weird things happen doesn't help. It's easy to end every sentence with 'because that's just how Sumaru is'." It would be interesting to see if she can search that far, with the Dark Side forum, on that note.... "You think... maybe there's something there about the Order, too. If it's happened within the establishing of the forums, maybe..."

'it's the origin story of your ex-fiance.' Umie makes a show of an appropriately flat face as she walks into that joke, but not too long after, she cackles. "So *that's* why the man's so boring to talk to. He's made of card-board."

YOU CAN LEAVE AT ANY TIME AKECHI, THE DOOR IS OPEN

What would she do?

"It would be a grey world indeed," Umie says to that, with a fond smile. "My blood pressure'd be a lot better though, you know...?"

That's called a callback.

As for her discharge, and what was reported, Umie herself just shrugs. "No clue. I wasn't in the mood to say much of anything at the time. I imagine the ship suddenly appearing on the hospital meant a lot of things got pushed to the side."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
His expression sobers as she indicates a bullet can undo a lot of things, "You're absolutely right, but don't you think you're preaching to the choir? After all... I investigate a lot of murders. However, if it puts your mind more at ease..."

He taps his brief case. "I'm licensed to carry a firearm for my work, and I can confidently say that I can outshoot any police officer in this country, given how little practice their training allows each year." He locks eyes with Umie, "And that isn't an exaggeration."

There's not even a hint of that braggadocio in his voice this time, it's so... so matter of fact.

However, the 'police officer' was chosen because it was specifically relevant to Sumaru City- and they both know why.

"Indeed we do." He does finally chuckle, "What an unusual turn of events..." A beat, "I wouldn't count on him being stuck in there. He's been traveling the Metaverse for longer than any of us have even been awakened."

He looks troubled, on the idea that she might actively be traumatized by the event, but- isn't that the obvious? Most of his targets don't live long after, and those that do, are all traumatized.

Every psychotic breakdown he creates ruins so many lives.

"I have... a few tricks up my sleeve. While I won't say that I could stop him, I do think I could sufficiently surprise him to get away." He finally allows, rather than address her hurt.

How could he? He doesn't have the right.

"We do what we have to." Is all he eventually says, of the idea of taunting him. "To survive. Sometimes what you couldn't believe you did in the moment is what needed to be done in the moment."

Indeed... it bought Umie long enough time for intervention, so could it not be said it saved her life in some sense?

"I don't think it says anything ill about you, specifically. Though I understand why you might take the time after for... self-reflection."

Eventually he slips the Ray Gun away at her words, "It's a powerful image, I suppose. Someone brandishing it in a certain pose. The 'cavalry' has arrived, so to speak. I'm glad it gave you comfort."

But... he can never really be the hero, or heroic. That is not who he is, nor will it ever be. He has made his choice.

For the sake of his Justice.

"... But, I don't know. Perhaps try it on for size one day, you may find it to be surprisingly enjoyable."

Though he doesn't say he'll teach her that trick of course. Nope. Part of the fun is somebody else figuring it out for themselves!!!

"Perhaps." He says on the Dark Side of Sumaru, "If so, it's buried so far that even I haven't found it. The internet has developed so much in ten years."

There's a chuckle at her laughter, before he says, with a grin, "Ah, so he's not a woe, but the box itself. That does explain so very much."

Though, when she says it was pushed back, he looks troubled, then places a hand on his chin. Pausing. Then eventually stands up.

"I don't believe in coincidences like that. While it might in fact be nothing, the moment they're arranging you for discharge, I recommend you have your boyfriend on standby to take you out through an exit they don't expect."

He stands up, and takes out his phone, "I'm going to go poke around to make certain it's in fact nothing." Tapping on it, he begins to leave the room, "I'll talk to you soon, focus on getting well and getting out of here for now."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>
If Umie could only fold her arms right now, she would!! "You got a point there. You and Katsuya-san have an advantage there that I don't, unless I want to risk something *else* screwing up." Though, Katsuya...

... She briefly makes a face, as she makes the connection to Akechi's choice of words. The Order is likely going to punish Katsuya soon, no doubt.

She'll file that away for later.

"I'll take your word for it. Cognition can't smooth over a shaky hand." Anymore than Umie's strikes can fake the level of prowess that Kurou's similar weaponry has, when it comes to going in for a kill.

As for Ruin... "Yeah. If we could get out, no doubt he can." And Joker... will he be okay?

A unusual turn of events, indeed.

As for trauma... Umie tilts her chin at Akechi's gesture of confidence in his future encounters with the assassin, taking in a breath.

"... That's likely the key, the same as always." While Akechi doesn't address her hurt, the logic seems to circumvent it entirely. "You've probably had to do the same, I imagine. Not just to survive, but for the sake of your Justice."

Look at how far Akechi's come, that Umie is willing to say that with a straight face, even some admiration.

Determination and control will always be something Umie finds admirable, as long as it's not being applied to subjugating her, after all.

As for the cavalry? "I suppose," Umie concedes, at the imagery. "In the moment, it just made me realize a little bit more about you as a person. You might've just gotten it at a toy store someplace, but it was still a choice you made, despite having the 'real' thing in your briefcase."

Pause. "..... then again that'd be really bad if forensics came in and identified what bullet was used, sooo."

She should try it, sometime.

"What, getting a laser gun? And steal *your* schtick? God forbid." She laughs, and ponders on it, red brown eyes narrowed into merry slits. "Maybe I'll make some origami stars and see if they act like real ninja stars. *That* could be fun."

She'll have to take another look at the Dark Side boards again, it seems, on another note.

AND ON ANOTHER NOTE, "The pun was sitting right there! I had to," she laughs.

Akechi's urgency, however, is finally realized for what it is.

"Uh--" Her eyes widen. OH. POLICE. SUMARU POLICE.

"Yeaaahhh, you go do that. I'll pass a note to my boyfriend--" hee hee she has a boyfriend and he's acknowledging it, hee hee "--or something." As he gets out his phone, she wiggles her fingers at him. "You need to get going anyway. I can't justify keeping you any longer. Except--"

She dips her head, once.

"Thanks, Akechi-kun. I can always count on you."
</poem>

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-07-14: It's Good to See Your Face

2026-08-10T21:32:11Z

Tanyuu:

*'''Log: It's Good to See Your Face'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Umie Akabane]], [[Goro Akechi]]
*'''Where:''' Narumi - Main
*'''OOC Date:'''July 14, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 09, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''As Umie lies vulnerable and helpless at the hospital following the Mizunagi Incident, a terrible assassin makes his visit to complete the job... with delicious foods from a variety of konbini chains. ALways so helpful, so trustworthy, always providing valuable insight to matters of the supernatural and Justice- what *would* Umie do without a friend like Akechi in her life?''

----

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Studies show that eating foods rich in-" *click*
"Oh, look at her go! She's in the final-" *click*
"Experts can't say why the boat-" *click*
"A samurai's worth is in his word-" *click*
"As Prime Min-" *CLICK*
"You activated my trap, Sato-kun! Now-" *click*

The TV goes black as a chipped red nail presses the power button on the TV remote.

Umie flops her head back into her raised pillow, turning her head towards the window outside, looking out onto a plain view of a chilly courtyard, December having come in full force. At least there's lights strewn through the branches, but with the sun out, they're not on to distract her.

Besides, there's an obnoxious bouquet of white roses, complete with a 'get well' card, halfway blocking the view. It's as if Honjou wanted it to the only thing, other than the TV, for Umie to look at.

With her left arm in a sling, her right wrist bandaged up, bandages over where Ruin's bullet ended up going (thank god), and various other miscellaneous injuries, the blonde's usual means to whittle away the time have been cut back. She can't do anything with her hands.

There's just the beeps of medical equipment, the murmur of staff walking by, dust motes in the sun streaming in, and an urge to look at her phone.

Oh. And nightmares, but that's for future Umie to deal with. Present Umie is wide awake, and is refusing to think about all the mysteries that have spilled out over the past few days.

Or the people left behind from them.

The TV turns back on, and Umie sighs. Maybe, in the five minutes that have passed, something interesting will be on.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Hospital Rooms can feel like jail cells when you don't want to be there. Sure, there are no bars, and you have some things you can do, but it feels like you are no longer in control of your life.

And just like Jail cells...

Knock Knock.

One can have visitors!

"Why hello there, may I come in? Or would you prefer I leave you to your channel surfing?"

Why- there's a familiar voice behind the knock. Assuming Umie doesn't tell him not to come in, because one does not enter a woman's room without permission- he will soon after.

"I know that flowers are the customary gift when visiting someone ill..."

He places a bag down on a bedside table, and suddenly, he's producing!

Konbini snacks. Mostly non-perishable snacks, but multiple sandwiches and cutlets and the like. "... but I felt you might appreciate something else more. Hospital food is- serviceable at best, ergo- I brought you a stash to keep hidden from your nurse."

He reaches in and pulls out a cold pack, "Also some long-lasting cold packs, so you don't have to eat the sandos all at once."

He hasn't said anything yet about what happened, the incident or the like- but then again, why would he? It's much more fun to play around first.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> How suspicious, Goro Akechi is here! Except, it is not suspicious, by any stretch of the imagination. He's the second coming of the detective prince for a reason, and this happened in the same ward as him! That's practically like being in his backyard. A ship disappeared, a ship embedded itself into the side of a hospital, a person named Umie Akabane was admitted into that same hospital...

It'd be suspicious if Akechi *wasn't* knocking on Umie's door right now, because it just seems like such a perfect situation to socialize in. Umie, lying in bed, unable to move much, and Akechi, able to walk right out at any moment he gets a need to be elsewhere.

All this, and he'd look like a complete prince just for showing up.

So of course Umie tells Akechi to come in. She's not even going to pretend she's not immensely happy to see him, even! (Well, okay, let's not go *that* far. She'll settle for 'seems moderately pleased to have him here'.)

"Come on in, Akechi-kun," Umie murmurs, with a half-grin. "I will always prefer your company over daytime TV." Such a high bar.

The delighted twinkle in her eyes grows to unabashed delight as Akechi sets down a bag on the bedside table with a familiar sound of crinkling wrappers and hollow plastic containers.

Konbini snacks!!!

"I wonder what hanakotoba says about these..." she quips. "Egg sando.... peace and comforting prosperity, maybe?" Akechi's even thought ahead, with... ice packs! "As a proper detective should," she assesses, nodding once. "We'll have to properly dispose of all evidences of your crime, of course." Experimentally, she holds up her right hand; coincidentally, the bandages happen to cover her Mark, for once. "Quick, one egg sando, before they notice."

She's grinning like an idiot, but that may be due to the pain meds. That is the excuse Umie would tell herself.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
How suspiciously unsuspicious! After all, Detectives know things. And he's a supernatural one. Indeed, one might wonder what pointed him in this direction- but in this direction he has come.

When he comes in, it's wearing a grey blazer so light it's almost tan, a tie- and a button up white shirt, as well as slacks matching his jacket.

Of course, there's also black gloves. One always must be prepared.

It's a Sunday after all, so he's not in his school uniform, but still something ''like'' one for work.

"Well, it's good to know I rank above Soap Operas and Talk Shows at least." He grins, "Although I do appear on the latter from time to time."

Then Umie asks quite the strange question, and as if he doesn't see the joke, he shrugs, "Knowing Hanakotoba? I'm not all together certain what emotions an egg would represent... perhaps yearning, hope? Likely one would pair it up with conceptions of feelings related to fertility."

As Umie suggests that they'll have to properly dispose of all evidence of a crime... he grins, "Please, who do you take me for?" And at the bottom of the bag he produces- a trash bag!!!

"All you have to do is hide it in here. Then tie it up and toss it within the garbage. Even if someone fancied searching through your garbage, you'd have already been discharged when your crime was discovered."

And of course, he produces- one Egg Sando. "I didn't know which one you'd prefer, so I stopped by several stores. Here's the Dawson's."

As he hands it over.

"In my opinion, it's the most palatable." Then takes a seat, giving her time to eat. He doesn't force a topic change onto her injuries- yet.

Mostly because he doesn't want to put a damper on the mood... ''yet'' at least.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Impeccable timing, impeccably dressed, impeccable hair, too. It's enough to make someone jealous that they haven't somehow prepared, even if their circumstances disallow for proper primping.

"Of course you are." She looks up to the TV, currently marked with 'MUTE', where two actors express themselves over a passionate argument. "Have you ever considered being on the former? I bet you'd be a hit, should you ever get tired of chasing mysteries."

She's mostly joking; she imagines the work would drive someone like Akechi completely bonkers.

Likewise, she doesn't see Akechi using a hidden language of comfort food to send a coded message, but it's a funny one to consider, after staring at those white roses for a few hours. "'I wish you success in your endeavors', then," she muses. "But I suppose, the best example would be, 'I brought you food, stop asking me'." She'd hold her hand to her chin, but instead, that half-smile has to just sit there, naked.

"Ahh, excellent." She'll have to hide these from Shiryuu, after all. How can a man who has murdered people be so obsessed with her eating healthy??

The questions may be coming, but Umie is happy to simply let them come on their own time, or assign themselves to the realm of assumptions. As a detective, and someone who has dabbled in the supernatural alone, injuries would simply be a part of the whole package It's barely been over a week since they've faced Hodai, however, and now, she's here, with arguably worse injuries.

.... Umie's glad Ren wasn't there this time to witness those deaths, at least. That's enough to give most people nightmares, including her, despite thinking she'd seen it all. Demons can die in cruel, violent ways, after all... It was shocking at first to her much younger brain, but she had gotten used to it the same way someone would get used to violence on a nature documentary. Even if a demon is almost completely human shaped, they are not bound by humanity, expressing themselves and holding themselves to a different credo that Umie had gotten far too used to.

"All of that, for me?" The question is presented like a quip, but there's a part of it that feels moved by the extra steps Akechi took. And so, when the next words come, they're warmer, unable to hold back as she accepts that sandwich. "Thank you, Akechi-kun."

So much irony, and only Akechi is in a position to appreciate it.

She eats the sando, careful not to overextend her right wrist any, from where Ruin slammed into it. "Mm. Did you happen to have something to drink on you?"

After that, Umie broaches one subject, at least. "By the way, have you heard from Amamiya-kun at all?" She frowns. "I've been trying to figure out what to text him in regards to that day, but I keep coming up blank. Plus, with everything going on..." SHe motions with her chin.

"Which... is another reason I have to thank you, for being there. I think that's why he took everything so well." Obviously.

Pause. "... You... *were* there, right?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"Haha... it has been offered but- I don't think I'd be much of an actor, myself." He says with a touch of good humor and no small amount of irony. "Besides, shows like that have such a rigorous filming schedule, that I'd have to give up being a Detective entirely."

Would it drive him bonkers? Perhaps not- after all, he desires validation, acclaim. At the same time, he wouldn't get it for being himself. He'd get it for the ''role'' and his talent playing someone else.

It would drive him up a wall, because he wouldn't be loved in and of himself, and he'd know it.

He shakes his head, snorting at her end result, that half-smile on her face and the 'I brought you food, stop asking me'.

How can a man who has murdered people be so obsessed with eating healthy? It's a good question, but Akechi would guess it's because he lives such a rigidly disciplined life.

... and Goro Akechi, despite doing so on the surface as the High School Detective Prince, is anything but in many other ways...

"Yes I decided to show you my acting skills by playing the role of the doting grandmother." He quips back, "You aren't eating nearly enough, Akabane-chan. Here, have some junk food."

When she asks if he has something to drink on him, he brings out a Ramune bottle, placing it in front of her. "Of course I do. Though you will have to hazard not separating your trash for a time."

...

Then she opens the subject and-

"After the incident with your ex-coworker slash stalker, we spoke briefly."

Though he won't say the context to protect their identity of course. "But not after- when I heard you were admitted to the hospital, I decided it'd be best if I spoke to you first... just in case."

He crosses his arms, "After all, wounds such as these beg questions from your friends that you may not want to answer."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Validation is a tricky beast to lure in, and one Umie is woefully unable to understand in the same way she'd understand loneliness. Of course she wants it, like any young adult...

The same goes for being loved. Her and Shiryuu bonded together with an almost magnetic force, simply because their loneliness played across that gulf of understanding in similar keys. Yet, both have families, and people who are concerned about them. Akechi, on the other hand...

The surreal idea of Akechi being a doting grandmother... Now, it's Umie who snorts. "Sorry, but I can't call you 'grandma'. My grandma would've brought apples or Nanbu crackers. Perhaps you are my caring doting brother instead?" she suggests, chuckling.

Not that she'd know what that was like, outside of media. What would Grandma Rie have thought of junk food...?

Those memories are hazy, like spring night fog.

The ramune soda is offered, and she takes it gratefully. "Don't tell me you didn't get yourself anything after all that running around," she says, one eye closed as she lowers the bottle down. "'Akechi-kun, you're not eating nearly enough. You're skin and bones!'"

ah, how the turns... table.

"... Well-" This is from another incident, she's about to say, but that feels like getting off the subject. "He doesn't need to know *that*. I'm mostly concerned that he's okay. You and I can laugh off a guy attacking with a vending machine, but he saw his co-worker get hurt by some random guy." Not to mention Kurou is convinced he'll have to break ties, but that heartbreak is another matter. "I guess... you've known him for longer, so I was just wondering what you think. Should I just... not say anything next time we're on shift together?" She carefully tips her bottle back. "I've never had this happen before, is what I'm saying. You operate on the edge of more worlds than one, so... I'm looking to you for advice."

Pause. It makes her feel a little too naked, just directly asking him for advice. So, she adds something, a touch impishly: "Afterwards, I might be persuaded to offer some of that information about what happened here, if you're looking for that."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Indeed, he made the comparison because it was so ridiculous. However, now that she calls him a 'caring doting brother' his smile wavers just a touch, then, "Well... it would certainly be more apt."

He's quiet, perhaps a little solemn on that one. What does Umie think of him? And he tried to murder her. Perhaps it would be a kindness, 'euthanasia' in a sense.

But...

He manages to come back to whenever she says he's skin and bones. "Of course I ate something on the way." He scoffs at her, "What kind of gift would this be if I immediately went? ... And by the way, I'll be taking half of it."

He leans back, arms still crossed, "Besides, I eat more than enough from my TV appearances- do you have any idea how much food an entire production crew has back stage?"

Akechi looks away as she speaks about the vending machine, "Well, one person was certainly laughing." He grouses, remembering the incident, before contemplating what Umie says and-

"I think some version of the truth that's palatable to a normal person is for the best." He says, and it's certainly ironic, given that Ren Amamiya isn't normal. "Then- if they remember more, you can go from there. After all, if they do, it's a sign they have the potential to become a Persona User themselves, one day."

It's a bunch of lies all put together to protect Ren's identity, that alone is amusing enough.

"Perhaps- you were attacked by a stalker at the con. He threw a steel chair at you. He's been jailed for now- while the cops investigate his crimes."

Reaching up, he rubs his eyes with a gloved hand, then, "Yes... I think I will ask. What did you get involved in after- everything that happened that put you here?"

A beat.

"And I'll do you a courtesy just this once and not play detective."

Surprising. But he does truly feel bad. Ordinarily he'd mess with her and ask questions that outright accuse her just to see how she reacts.

He holds up one finger, "I know you were shot by a small caliber firearm, which is what put you here." He holds up a second finger, "And the timing of your admission coincides with that incident involving the research vessel striking the Narumi Memorial Hospital. ... That is what I've deduced already."

Such genius detective work, so wow, given that he's the one who put her here.

</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "It would be," Umie reflects, a second later, as if realizing a similar notion at about the same time. Ghh... she was never like this _before_, but she also didn't have people she could even mention the presence of the supernatural. Even people like Toki, who would be trustworthy at the very least...

But she actually does feel a bond of trust with Akechi, despite his more eccentric traits, despite knowing him for a far shorter amount of time. And for Akechi, Umie wonders, what lurks beyond his own hesitancy?

Perhaps it's to do with his detective work, she reasons. She's probably being to chummy with him.

She'll just blame the pain killers, like a proper adult!

'By the way, I'll be taking half of it.' "Ah, ah, good. You're growing boy andddd... I'm sorry, I can't continue with that," Umie snickers. "And is that so...?" She ponders, tilting her head. "... So that's your real reason... I see..." She's kidding!

Well, one person was certainly laughing, Akechi recounts. "I guess I lucked out..." Umie idly muses. "All I remember is people coming, and..." That Shiryuu came for her. Kurou, coated in glass, moving so fast it was like he was dancing with his weapon. That Akechi's shoulder felt hard. That she ruined things. That Ren said things, and for some reason, she just trusted it.

That was definitely the concussion talking.

Ren is, of course, a normal person, what do you mean, Akechi. Akechi does bring up a consideration Umie's pondered before, in passing: the potential. "... Doesn't that worry you? Sure, he'd have plenty of people who'd help him, like us, but. Pushing that aside, could you handle him knowing about those sides of you? Or that he'll be dealing with the Dark Hour?"

Not all of this is just about Ren: Umie also wants to know what Akechi thinks about this matter himself.

As for the rest, Umie seems to invite the question. "Go ahead. I can't promise I can tell you everything-- after all, some things are dangerous just to know, right?"

Like disembodied mummified heads. Akechi's words on that are not ones Umie's forgotten.

'And I'll do you a courtesy just this once...' "My, my," Umie's hands jerk again, and she stops them, continuing on, "how courteous of you." Akechi may appreciate the way Umie's arms and body jerk, responding to those impulses to express herself, then immediately declining as ow ow ow ow.

As long as she thinks in abstracts, it's easier to lay quips like little bombs around, and not be distracted by the dark matters that lack coherent shape in Umie's mind.

She'll at least confirm his points. "Mmhmm," Umie says. Augh, she so wants to put her hand on her hands to mime listening to a story about Akechi's day.

The ship. Yes. Her expression stills as her mind touches on it, unable to make sense of any of it.

She gives a sigh.

"... And what do you think happened there?" she asks. Her eyelids lower slightly. "Then I'll know what I can tell you."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Akechi at the very least, doesn't explore the issue. Like so many things, he puts away uncomfortable subjects for later. He's so good at compartmentalizing things. Blood had always mattered so much to him that the idea that there can be the possibility of family without had never occurred to him.

Mostly because, without the ties of blood, who would ever want to be around him or be his family?

Of course, the moment she knows the real him, it wouldn't matter anyway. And even if by some miracle it were otherwise, soon enough, she'll be gone.

He snorts at her growing boy comment, "And you're ''not'' a growing young woman any longer. So I have to suspect you only wish me to grow taller in order to reach the top shelf for you."

Well he gives as good as he gets.

There was definitely a concussion talking. And he certainly didn't contribute to it by just dropping her, nope.

If you think that, then your memory is being affected by concussion.

"You did. And I just so happened to be in the area." He says, with a shit-eating grin which lets Umie know that he absolutely suspected something was coming and was there because of her.

Doesn't it worry him though? About Ren.

"Could I handle that?" He pretends to look contemplative, "Yes, I do believe I could. We all have our secrets. Things we keep hidden from even our friends. From interests we'd rather not reveal- to something such as this."

It's a step forward that he can even say Ren is a friend now- but Akechi you definitely can't handle Ren as they are right now.

"Sometimes these things come out. Whether by happenstance or- artifice. It's best to assume any secret you're keeping could one day be learned by someone in your life."

Of course, him being Ruin he finds very unlikely anyone could because he's too smart for it hohohoOHOHOHOHOHO.

"Yes, I offer very courteous courtesies." As he quips back her way. "The most courteous, of course." Before he then frowns as he saw that wince, but then settles back.

"On that I'm uncertain of the exact details. However... in the aftermath I found an anonymous rumor post in Dark Side of Sumaru that's been circulating for about a week that allows me to make certain deductions..."

Goro Akechi steeples his fingers together, "...someone has altered your family history by rumor to tie you to the Ryouhara clan, your family line being the lineage of a mythological Princess named 'Unohime'. Furthermore, they linked that to a research vessel known as the Mizunagi, which was supposed to smuggle recently unearthed artifacts regarding this altered history."

He then looks beyond towards Umie, waiting on their reaction, "The manifestation of a rumor can be unpredictable at best. My guess is that- the rumor manifested in a way that the one who wrote it could never have expected."

That much is quite true! He never would have expected ''that'' to happen.

"Somewhere in the incident regarding that 'manifestation' you were shot."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Akechi has full confirmation of what Umie would do and act, right there, right? She'd hate him, and even when she asked if he was cursed as well, he'd feel no reluctance in throwing it right back at her, while keeping her in the dark just how doomed she is.

All of his statements could be taken in more than one way, and the truth is beyond what Umie can imagine, no matter what jokes or caustic ponderings she's made aloud.
... Or even dreamed.

'And you're ''not'' a growing young woman any longer.' Umie tsks. "Rude."
'So I have to suspect you only wish me to grow taller in order to reach the top shelf for you.' "And what do you think I have Amamiya-kun do?" (As well as other employees, but Ren is most relevant here.) She shamelessly admits to it!

Good for Umie, though, that Akechi is just as shameless, admitting he 'just so happened' to be in the area. "Uh huh..." She takes another bite of her egg sando, switching over to the ramune soda, one eye closed. "How can I ever doubt that radiant smile of yours..."

The subject of Ren, and in turn how Akechi would treat such things in general, is handled with more seriousness. She listens, taking in Akechi's viewpoint, stifling a smile as she hears him indirectly confirm he considers Ren a friend.

"... It's scary to consider." Perhaps, Akechi's secrets aren't as deep, or he's more prepared for them to eventually come to light. "That this is a risk that we have to take, just to engage with other people."

But in turn, because he shares this, he hears an admission from Umie, whether unwelcome or no: she considers him a part of this strange 'grouping' she's made in her mind.

Will he appreciate that, when she has no idea the man who almost killed her is sitting nary a meter or two away from her?

"I'd expect nothing less than the highest courtesies from you," she says right back, unfortunately fumbling over how to continue. To court his courtesies? No, she's not courting him, she's courting the gumpy shinobi who is currently being a terror to his nurse, who is having none of his attitude.

Ahhh, her prince-

".... eh?" Umie casts a blank look at Akechi. No, she was *not* expecting this at all. So now, with Umie's blessing, Akechi gets to reap his just rewards, borne from the seeds he himself planted. "My wrist hurts when I hold up my phone for that long, and it's outdated, so... I... haven't been keeping up..." Blink, blink. "How."

"How the hell." The Ryouharas. "Uno.... hime...? I'm... what?" no, Umie, your descendant is a princess, not you, silly!

Umie takes a breath. "Wait, no. Rumors can't be *that* powerful. It's just things that are easy to change, like..." Shops selling weapons! Easy. ".... My parents met up north, in Aomori." And there's a Ryouhara branch in Akita... "The Order must be behind this somehow... because... Uh."

The egg sando lies forgotten, in her hand. "... Wait, you're just pranking me, aren't you?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"Obviously you need a backup." Akechi says, of that being Amamiya's purpose. "And one for supernatural shelves."

He knows FULL WELL she can 'jump good' when powered up.

"It is." He agrees with her on how frightening it is, "But it is a small price to pay for the power we wield. In a sense, without it- both of us would be helpless to even perceive a whole part of the world we live in, much less do anything about it."

He inhales, then shakes his head, "Just imagine what our lives would be like if we were in the middle of this without our powers... or even where you might be right now."

Umie however is incredulous when at first delivered the news of the rumor, and Akechi watches her reaction.

"You would love it if I said 'Just Kidding' right about now... but no I'm not pranking you." He says with a solemnity, "I'm quite serious. Whoever spread the rumor was utilizing the fervor of those invested in the 'History Boom' in order to make certain it would take hold."

He looks up at the ceiling. Then takes a deep breath and-

"Honestly, I am beginning to believe the power of Rumors is without limit. The boundaries were never about whether something is easy to change- but whether it is a rumor that remains within the public consciousness. That it continues to live 'Rent Free' in people's heads, so to speak, far beyond wherein they've heard it. The more people you can convince..."

He allows that to linger for a time, with the implication obvious.

"... It's quite terrifying. However, the more fantastical the rumor- the easier it is for people to dismiss it. As it stands- the idea that you're descended from a Ninja Clan's Princess isn't that difficult for people to accept, since they think it came from the Honmaru Park dig site."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> ... How is Akechi managing to make something she was afraid of suddenly sound fun? "Supernatural shelves, eh..." She stalls, glancing to the side with a rueful expression. "... Now you have me wondering what a Persona of somebody like Amamiya-kun would even look like." Maybe something like that confident, mysterious persona (lower case p) Ren had during the cosplay convention...

_wait, no, why is she seriously thinking about this_ "... Then, let's agree that, if Amamiya-kun *does* have a Persona hiding inside him--" ha ha ha Umie hasn't realized that Potential had a capital P "--we'll make sure he adjusts just fine." Why does Umie look so serious

And indeed, Umie is quite nimble at scaling up obstacles that would be normally impossible, even for someone who's tall. (... though, Shiryuu found out the hard way that Umie has been doing some bouldering of her own and is willing to use it on him.)

At least she feels better about it. "I suppose. I've had mine--" Badb, that is "-- long enough that it's hard to imagine life without her. Is it like that, for you and yours? Even if it's a shorter time frame, going through Mementos by yourself..."

Where would she be, without her powers? She makes a face, as she considers it. It's a rhetorical question, meant to lead to the obvious answer of 'they'd be dead'. The answer would be the same here, as well; her survival would have depended on another set of events to happen: her heart condition being found out and treated, for instance.

She forcefully glazes over it, turning her attention instead on poor, poor Akechi. "Mm, are you implying that even you would be over your head?" It's a fake question, a diversion from something she doesn't want to think about. A contradiction in her logic, that strikes like a lightning bolt far too close for comfort.

'What if things aren't as random as they should be?'

Like an answering chime of a bell, the next topic hits nearly the same note: a rumor, about her and the Ryouharas, tied to the same burial site that birthed the History Boom in Sumaru City, as Akechi pinpoints. "... So it plants the seed of belief, and spreads from there as the belief is confirmed, like a feedback loop. Just like the stories of Kurosu, Amano, and Suou-- enough to spawn a small shrine near the sanitarium. And then there's Wang Long; Ishigami-san could say anything at this point, and it'd come true."

It's not even about belief, anymore. "Like an information virus. Just you telling me, or me reading it later, makes us a part of its spread. The only way for something like that to properly die would for it to be forgotten, or for the public to move onto something else."

But the fact that she, Umie Akabane, normal boring konbini worker, and the Ryouharas, a family of shinobi that do not interact with the public, makes it suspicious, in a way.

"Do you ever wonder why it's here, in Sumaru City, that rumors can work like that? It's always been a strange city, but Tokyo has its share of strange districts. Sumaru City, though... it's like a 'Mementos' onto itself."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"Certainly it would have glasses and an apron." Akechi says cheerfully. "I'm guessing Fire Element, after all, Amamiya-kun devotes so much of their free time to making the perfect cup of coffee."

Of course, those are all lies he's curating to keep her away from the truth, since he's not certain if she knows- or what she knows or not.

"Of course we will. I've actually introduced several people to this world, believe it or not."

Including one of the Phantom Thieves but he's not gonna say that!

"My Persona..." Akechi pauses, thinking of how to describe it then, eventually- "I see it as one of my limbs, I suppose. It's been with me for so long that it truly is that much a part of me." As for whether he'd be in over his head without one?

"Of course. Does it surprise you that I'd think that? If I can't perceive the supernatural long without remembering it, then there's no way for me to interact with it. Now- that's not to say a Persona User is invulnerable."

He strokes his chin in thought, "I suppose that without one, it's not impossible I could take them in a fight, under the right conditions- with preparations, but- how would I know to prepare at all for the eventuality that the supernatural is real?"

Akechi does indeed actually have plans for if his Persona powers were somehow sealed. A necessary eventuality given the things the New World Order is coming up with.

Umie explains in her own way what he surmised about rumors, and eventually he nods, "The issue is that one cannot predict how it will be spread- or what form it takes within people's minds. In a sense, it's like a telephone game. It's likely that if everyone has different 'conceptions' of the rumor, then it is difficult for it to form."

He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms again, "As it stands, there's not much room left for interpretation in the rumor I saw posted- so it likely has become reality. Your family lineage has changed."

Then she asks a good question, and he looks right at her, "I think the answer for why it can happen is rather simple, actually. I think some God or Devil has taken an interest in Sumaru City, personally. And perhaps we already know 'whom' it is- given our good friend, Tatsuya Sudou."

The good friend part he says with a most sarcastic tone, of course.

"You said his name once to me yourself." He prompts, "Though how does one fight something like that? ... That, I do not know."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Sureeee, they're lies designed to lead Umie astray, and not just you having some fun, Akechi. "Glasses and an apron..." Umie's expression goes flat. "I'd... think he'd probably like something that didn't remind him of his evening shift the next day."

More bewildering is how Akechi openly admits to helping introduce several people to this world. "What, using the Persona Game? Or you mean help them get a handle on what's going on?" She frowns. She's tried to do the same for the Phantom Thieves, though who knows how well she really helped, once they got past her initial understanding of things. "How do Mask-sans even... become Mask-sans, anyway? Is it just... you have a potential to become a Persona User, and you... just have a mask, instead of... the other types?"

Hearing Akechi describe how his Persona is to him (which is, of course, Robin Hood), the blonde's face relaxes; she breathes, eyes closing. "... yes." No wonder that it's so painful, when it's hit when manifesting.

Does it surprise Umie that Akechi would admit to that reality? Maybe not entirely, as his success comes from somewhere, but hearing him take that question and answer it seriously does allow Umie to feel a mote of respect for him to admit to it. (... _unlike a certain shihaisha_, but it *does* allow a point for her to jab.)

Furthermore... "... So you noticed that too." This may mean Amamiya-kun will forget, perhaps. "At first I wondered if it was just a response to trauma, but given how reliably it happens... maybe it's tied to the way some people develop Personas and some don't."

"But yes." Umie looks to her forgotten egg sando in her hand, and the bandaged spot where that bullet hit, now covered by her hospital gown. "Bullets still work. If it weren't for my Persona, I likely would have bled out before I got proper care. Blood thinners complicate a lot of things." She tilts her head, giving Akechi a cheeky lopsided smile. "Ah~ oops, I let something slip. Please do ignore."

Akechi has his eccentricities, and has his own issues with becoming close to people (or whatever private matters that brought Ren to his doorstep), but his forward direction sometimes runs in a similar manner to Umie's own, though she cannot understand what drives someone to have a 'Justice' behind it, whether personal, or something more like Katsuya's own. It makes talking about these bigger phenomena feel like she can get somewhere.

.... Even if it means having to sometimes stare a few demons (of the personal kind) in the face. But isn't that part of looking into a mystery, or trying to reach past that locked door?

"... Like with the Sevens rumor." Umie nods. "You'd have to predict how people would act as a whole, not just logic your way in and hope people appreciate you trying to solve some problem." She takes another bite of her egg sando, finally, switching to the ramune soda. "But who would do a thing like that, I wonder..." She did. Look, she's even closing one eye as she says that.

"Which means... somebody thought it'd be fun to play with my family bloodline. Kind of scary, but I can't even think back to any further relatives aside from my grandma."

As for what? "... a God or Devil, huh..." The ramune bottle is set back on the sidetable, as Umie sits with her thoughts, the intermittant beep of the monitors presenting a constant ticking of some clock. "If it really was something like that, why use rumors, when you could just 'do', if such things exist. But there is definitely something that is being served by all these coincidences..."

"... Nyarlathotep." She remembers Ruin's words. "If it's anything like the thing in the short stories, it feels like something that delights in our suffering. That it's all just a game..."

There's a thread of anger laid underneath those words.

"... You keep trying, is what you do. Over and over. You resist."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>"Probably, but one doesn't get to pick the look of one's Persona. Not really." He smirks at Umie. He does like Robin Hood, certainly- but he understands that if he could have chosen its look, he would not have made it quiteeee so over the top.

As to her question- he shakes his head, "Oh, no, I mean as in having given them an 'orientation' of sorts once they had awakened. I don't try to make it happen."

That's perhaps one of his biggest lies tonight, of all of them.

"As for that... to be perfectly honest. I'm not certain. Not even the Metaverse is a necessary factor, from my observations. One person I know awakened in Sumaru City."

He won't say who of course.

"It is a mystery, the combination of factors that are involved- whether there is some 'patron' who determines such, or otherwise. There are simply not enough clues at this time- only patterns."

It is easy to admit that if one was helpless- they'd be helpless, even for a prideful person like Akechi.

It is after all, only hypothetical.

"Exactly. And unfortunately there could be other factors as well. Rumors are after all 'unnatural' and none of us are given a set of rules. It could be certain people possess a 'back door' of sorts to make rumors take hold of more easily."

Like say a Severed Mummy Head in a Shrine.

"Yes, it is quite terrifying. It's- not impossible that one could use a rumor to change fundamentally who you are as a person. However, as Persona Users we at least seem to have ''some'' natural resistance... and well- it is my belief at least that as a celebrity- I'm partially immune to such drastic changes to begin with. Too many people out of Sumaru City know who I am and have a soild conception of that."

So being a celebrity at least makes it difficult for someone to suddenly go- 'Goro Akechi is actually a girl raised as a boy' or the like.

"However that doesn't mean certain... creative rumors couldn't get around it. Uncertainties- voids to fill within one's past with tabloid gossip... you understand what I'm saying."

Nyarlathotep.

"The man from Egypt, who has legions of followers. In a sense, perhaps the New World Order is... that, for him."

You keep trying, is what you do. Over and over. You resist.

"Well, if it were true Lovecraftian horror. One is unable to resist. But- that doesn't mean it has to be that way. One should resist until the bitter end."

And burn down the world around you in your fury.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie opens her mouth, as if to object; she then thinks further on it. "... Yeah," she murmurs. "Badb's look changed very little, despite how young I was when I first summoned her." She pops the last bite of her egg sando into her mouth, drinking her ramune. "Younger me probably would have appreciated something more... girly?" But Umie can see something feminine in the cold veined skin, whipped fabric, and nails, a creature of death and violence manifested, confident in her domain, restless when she's not. A devil of broad strokes and pointed fingers, reflecting the smile and chaotic energy of a person whose best plans have as much of a chance to fail as to succeed.

"Yours is certainly more heroic-looking, but like you said, it's through the lens of Robin Hood as the trickster. He had his own justice, separate from the law that made his trickery necessary." That's the fun part, isn't it? Akechi can say one thing, and Umie will fill the rest of the narrative to make it logical. Whether it brushes up against the truth or not wouldn't matter.

Umie wouldn't have any reason to disbelieve that Akechi had an intentional hand in the awakening of more than one person, including a Phantom Thief. "The question is... did that Metaverse app appear on phones before or after a person summoned their Persona? If before, would it be something in the cognitive world responding to something in that person, or is it an intentional 'tuning' of that potential into something else?"

She has her reasons for wondering the latter, having pondered what was similarly 'tuned' by her Mark, and by extension, Nyarlathotep. However, the idea that other 'patrons' exist never occurred to Umie, if her head tilt indicates anything. "A patron, huh... well, I hope that 'patron's' more fun than mine." She grins, eyes twinkling merrily. "Sounds like someone mischievous, to like masks and hiding so much~" oh, Umie, how wrong you are... "But yeah. All we have are patterns. There's just as much indication that there's nothing there but a narrative that gives everything cohesion."

Certain people, having more of a 'back door' to influencing rumor... "But wouldn't that be a rumor to make that a thing?" Umie supposes. "Rumormongers are often seen as more adept because of their knowledge of goings on. To imagine a mysterious person or organization is more adept just because of some hidden reason... that could be a deadly thing to spread." oh she wants to shake her finger so bad ughh "Outside of intelligent debates between two people willing to think of the possibilities, of course." She'll wink at him. That works.

It *is* terrifying. But, in talking about it, it feels like something she can play with in turn over, rather that broil her mind in endless 'what if's and ruminations. Goro Akechi, second coming of the detective prince, may be more immune, for example... "... While in comparison, 'that runaway Akabane girl' is someone with a lot smaller thumbprint," Umie builds on. "The collective idea of who that person is is easier to edit; that, or reality is just edited around that person. Your background, for example."

Her eyes center on Akechi and sit there, intentionally. What Umie has to determine her theory of what Akechi's background is will be based on evidence as loose as the evidence she had that Akechi was a Persona user, the specifics aren't needed here. "... A rumor can start that you are the son of someone famous. A famous movie star," no she's not going to choose politican after having to stare at that damn bouquet for what feels like way too long "... and that's how you got your start, and where you got those good looks. But it'd have to be a mystery who it is; all the better to construct a story that is interesting, and feed into the image you've projected."

Indeed, Umie understands what Akechi is saying. As for Nyarlathotep... "From what I remember, a lot of it was the protagonist slowly recalling the horrors of what he saw. Like he was a passive observer, unable to affect a greater being's plans," she murmurs, softly. "For the sake of a short story, it's necessary. But for those of us on the chessboard, we make do with what we have."

'One should resist until the bitter end' is a fine thing for someone like Akechi to say. But for the person underneath that pleasant face of his... it means something different.

And for the blonde, with her worries of a possible Dark Hour visit from Ruin, implications of things larger than her rumbling in the details, and a worrying sensation of what may come next... she does what she does best: act like she's not as scared as she actually is, deep inside.

"A boring pawn is disposed of quickly, or when it outlives its usefulness. A pawn that resists your hand... wouldn't that be the sort a being like Nyarlathotep would find more interesting? Even if it will always eventually move according to your wishes... it's the struggle that may be more interesting to see."

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.

"Well in a Jungian sense, a Persona is a mask one wears to present themselves to society. In our case, a 'mask' which allows us to face the supernatural on equal terms..."

Akechi raises a gloved hand, palm up in a one sided shrug, "... if your younger self didn't equate 'femininity' with agency in such spaces, it makes sense that Badb would not be especially 'girly'."

So what does that mean about Robin Hood, then? Nothing, shut up. Akechi for one isn't going to discuss its aesthetics and what they mean aloud.

"Indeed so, and just like him- I have my own Justice, which is distinct from the laws of this country, even if I often align with them."

He leans back and crosses his arms, "Robin Hood's antagonists were Prince John and the villainous Sheriff of Nottingham... but they were corrupt usurpers of a more just King... Richard the Lionheart in many versions of the tale, whom Robin had pledged fealty to."

In other words, it's not exactly a contradiction that Robin Hood follows the law ''he'' believes is Just, rather than the current law of the land.

"Before." Akechi says to Umie, with a certainty, "Not everyone necessarily notices it, but it always appears shortly before the event in question. Whether it's a matter of days, hours or mere minutes. While I don't have proof of this in every circumstance- I do in a great many."

As an example... Ichika. Though he's not about to mention how he knows that.

Again, he lifts his arm as a shrug, "While I have no confirmation, I suspect it responds to something known as the 'Will of Rebellion'. Nor can I answer you on precisely ''what'' it is- or how it comes to be in some individuals."

Placing a hand upon his chin, "If I had to speculate, it primarily seems to be a part of those individuals who have suffered some sort of grave injustice- and do not accept it as simply the way of the world, but as something wrong that must be opposed."

He takes his hand away from his chin as they talk about the 'patron'. "Perhaps. But we are speaking of gods and devils. Even the most benevolent deity can be just as much a devil in our mythology."

There's a soft chuckle, as he thinks upon it, "I would not bet on the idea that such patrons are necessarily better- even if I doubt they could be much worse."

Naturally he hasn't spoken to Ren on this one. Naturally. And has no intention of doing so... even implying he knows something, would give away so much.

Settling back and crossing his arms again, "Well, how do you think the New World Order came to be?" He poses this question, in regards to such dangerous rumors, "Do you really think such an organization was built up naturally- when it bases itself in a city where rumors can change the nature of our world?"

Indeed it's quite clear that Akechi doesn't think it was. Despite it having began years before he could have possibly been a part of it to know for sure.

"Indeed so. The less people know about you, the easier it is to believe such fanciful things as you being a Kunoichi Princess in a Ninja anime." He says with a smirk, "Whereas for me- well, like I said, I understand full well where my past would be vulnerable to rumors."

But, that's partially why he stays so abreast, so he can perform ''counterplay'' immediately when rumors opposing him begin.

Umie however, spells it out, and there's a sigh, and another shrug, "Yes exactly. And people would prefer to believe that I such a lineage, because it's more comfortable within their narrative of how I'm so competent and talented."

He looks up at the ceiling, "Otherwise, it would force them to reconsider their narrative of those left within foster care as being the children of degenerates- who will be a drain on their society for the rest of their lives."

Yep, he stays right on top of those rumors. The last thing he needs is for someone to change the fact Shido is his father. That would make all his work towards this vengeance ''moot''.

"Yes, that's exactly the essence of it. The eldritch- the unknowable, laughs at our attempt to have any sort of agency. But that does not mean they have to be correct..."

There's a chuckle, "I actually rather detest Lovecraft's themes. But still- it seems it was worth reading after all."

There's a pause at the idea of what he finds the most interesting.

"I... hesitate to say that he'd necessarily find them more interesting. I won't claim to understand the mind of such a being as the one we might face. But if I had to guess..."

...
...
...

It's a terrible memory, staring so deeply into Takahisa Shinjo's eyes. Knowing how small he truly was in comparison. Whether he could defeat him or not, wasn't the question. It was how small he was to what was behind those eyes.

"... I would say that they find our attempts to make ourselves more interesting- to resist their will... amusing, at best."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> TOO LATE, Umie's already looking at Akechi with one of those slightly squinty looks, as she thinks of exactly that, because it's a good point. While Akechi's enamored with Sherlock Holmes, his Persona embodied the traits of a 'purer' hero archetype, signifying a drive for justice than the themes of Sherlock Holmes would directly support.

The Badb is a gargoyle, meant to scare away all the scary things that could come gobble a delicious little girl up.

"... Yeah." Umie frowns. "I may have wanted a pretty fairy tale princess then, but that wasn't what I *needed*. And you... it's not about the mystery, but that your Justice is served. King Richard isn't coming back from the crusades anytime soon, and there are plenty of Prince Johns and Sheriff of Nottinghams to deal with. You didn't need a Sherlock Holmes, you needed a Robin Hood."

Or a Loki...

"Before," Umie parrots, with a blink. "It's just weird, to have it be because of a manmade device. You'd think a mirror, or... magic words." She tilts her head with a lopsided grin. "You think it gets updates every once in a while? Maybe one day there'll be ads added... Then you'll know it was evil all along."

The concept Akechi mentions, however... "A... Will of Rebellion? As opposed to A Will of Justice?" She considers, the fingers of her right hand jerking up in a complusive track to her chin before she forces them back down. "Well, no one's going to keep us from theorizing, right? I want to hear what you think."

She listens, nodding slowly. "With the Phantom Thieves, then, maybe it was a spark of 'rebelling' against people like that school coach-- not that that was their genesis, since they would have had to find each other first." She gestures now to Akechi, with her chin. "And with you... I could see it being your 'Justice'. Just because it corresponds with the law of the land doesn't mean you're less of a rebel, if that's what you're holding in your heart."

"Is this just a general term you've heard, like how we all call it the 'Dark Hour'?"

A rebellious means of becoming a Persona user... "Trickster gods weren't the greatest beings, yeah," Umie laughs. "Even a 'gift' of fire can mean the gods suddenly see you as a danger to them."

Wills of Rebellion and what a 'Mask-san' is is pleasant enough topic, but the NWO...

No, it's clear from Umie's face that she *hasn't* ever considered the possibilities. "Huh... I guess... there's nothing that *disproves* it, exactly," Umie ponders. "It was easy for me to assume they've just always been there, influencing things. So you're thinking..."

Her gaze travels out towards the lone window, half covered by the bouquet of white roses.

The beginnings of snow travel down in light trails, beginning to coat the branches of the trees outside.

"By first snow..."

".... It's possible," she concedes, again, as if trying to wrap her mind around it, but finding herself unable to.

As possible as the reality of all the foster children left to age out in foster homes, looked at as a drain on society.

Like small dots in the giant monster of society, forced to walk a labyrinthian maze.

Or dots of frozen ice against an eldritch being, an idle, passing fancy.

"It'd have to be something born from us though, right? It can't be a true god, even in the kami sense."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Has one considered that he's partially enamored with Sherlock Holmes because- and this is true, Sherlock Holmes was kind of an asshole? As are many of the Detective archetypes.

But indeed, it is true, that originally he believed that his Persona should embody a certain kind of Justice than that.

Children however are wont to believe in fantasies that can never come true.

"Well you can be one now for your 'beau' if you'd like." He says with a sense of wryness, when it comes to the Ryouhara. "But, that is certainly true. It is not even that there is an absentee 'ideal' ruling figure. It might in fact be that none exists at all- and because of that, corruption is rife amidst the elite and powerful."

He has thought a lot about comparisons of his mindset to that of why Robin Hood, how it marks his beliefs.

"Do you truly think it's so strange?" He says, as he keeps his arms crossed, "What of the Evoker? Such things are man made. And in this new information age where social media is on the rise- what better way to represent the 'interconnectedness' of the Metaverse. Mementos... the so-called 'Palace of Everyone's Hearts.' connects one, as social media might."

There's a chuckle at the idea of updates, ads. "Well. I doubt it would be so blatant. However- I do not believe the Metaverse Navigator is manmade at all. I believe it simply manifests upon cell phones as being representative of some aspect of the human condition."

Akechi then nods- and- holds out a hand. "Unlock your phone and hand it to me. I promise- I won't be searching your texts or mail. I just wish to show you something." He then takes out his very much locked cell phone. "Let us just say this is yours, currently. I have gifted it to you temporarily."

Should Umie comply, he taps the phone, then holds it up to show the Metaverse Navigator on her phone. "Because it's in my possession cognitively, the Metaverse Navigator is present." He then tosses it back to her on the bed. "Now, I'll be taking my phone back."

And as he does so, he indicates to her. "Now look for the Metaverse Navigator." And should Umie do so, it's gone, as if it were never there to begin with.

"It's not some magic trick. I believe it is literally a product of human cognition."

There's another small chuckle at the 'Will of Justice'. "Would one not call a 'Will of Rebellion' a 'Will of Justice'- if one is rebelling against injustice?" Akechi asks her pointedly. "Nevertheless, that is what I'm quite certain it is called."

And when she asks about how, "I heard it from my Persona, when I awakened." Akechi says quite simply, "It is the only time it has spoken to me. I suppose it's possible it was mistaken, or lying- but- for what reason would a Persona have to lie to me?"

Would even Akechi's own Persona lie to himself? Well... some questions are better not dwelled upon.

"Indeed so- if corruption is the law of the land, then is not rebellion Justice itself?" Is his simple answer to that idea, before then nodding again, "Tricksters are quite dangerous, in a sense. Many defy the will of the gods. Some are rebellious gods themselves who teach humility to their brethren. Either way- I wouldn't know if I had a 'patron' who is a Trickster. Or whether there is one at all..."

He shrugs yet again, "Unlike the dearly departed Sudou-san." He says drily, for calling him the dearly departed, "There has yet to be anyone who has spoken of an encounter with such an entity. ... Whereas Nyarlathotep has had his existence confirmed by a number of beings."

When Umie says she hasn't considered the prospect, he nods, "It's understandable you didn't. After all- neither of us has witnessed such a grand manifestation of a rumor. To 'create' an entire para-military organization. However, while there's no way to confirm it- I can't quite discount it either. There are too many strange elements about the New World Order that don't quite fit otherwise..."

Umie does concede it's possible, and he considers the prospect of whether it could be a true god, or one created from us. "I don't think- barring new concrete evidence there's any easy answer to that. What makes a 'true god' a 'true god'? What makes a god created by men? It soon enough becomes a 'Chicken or Egg' dilemma... which means we'd only be running about in circles."

Scootching to adjust his position some, he leans forward, "Now if you'd like, we can give it a try all the same. But I'll have you know- I would never associate with any girl who lays eggs."

He smirks, knowing it's a bad joke, but that she's likely to get it. After all, if man made the god themselves, then they'd have 'laid the egg'.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'Well you can be one now for your 'beau' if you'd like.'

---A WEEK OR SO FROM NOW---

Shiryuu slips out a knife, debating whether or not to plunge it in the back or chin of the person he sees as someone who has come, as she did with Hodai and others, to bring 'ruin' to his family.

No, not Ruin, but Umie Akabane, hohoho.

---NOW---

"I don't think he's going to appreciate it," Umie groans. "Besides, I think Amamiya-kun wore the dress better... though..." She hums. "I wouldn't have called 'Ran' a damsel in distress. More like a damsel *of* distress." A pause. "A damsel of 'this dress'."

You can leave at any time, Akechi. Umie has no ability to stop you, as she is now, as well as properly satiated with food.

"Double duty... having to be King Richard and Robin Hood all on your own..." she tsks with a teasing air. "What a busy life, to be a Goro Akechi. But..." she continues, gesturing lightly with her unslung hand, "That *is* a part of it, maybe. Maybe not what I meant by my joke, but it seems a Will of Rebellion is about embodying a double identity on top of it. There's plenty of rebellion to go around, from all sorts of Persona Users, but to be an rebel, Robin from Locksley has to shed his identity and become Robin Hood. The cognitive trick to it is far beyond anything I could do, either; my masks barely work beyond certain parameters." In order to survive, she had to know others, and have others know who she is, but also... a literal barrier it presents between herself and the Eldtritch Other, even if it is as flimsy as a child's belief in a fantasy that can never come true.

"You, meanwhile, just took pity on me, despite my lousy evidence." 'And revealed yourself' is the rest of that sentence.

'Do you truly think it's so strange?' "... Huh. That *is* true." Of course. Whether a phone, or a strange gun, it's still technology, much newer than a mirror. "There are people who've seemed to discover a similar mechanism, even," she continues. "While the Evoker is special, it seems to be tied with the Dark Hour, and the concept of dying. So, your theory is... the phones have the app because it's reflecting Mementos in a way, like how it itself reflects a 'Palace of Everyone's Hearts'." She considers, her eyelids slipping down halfway as she directs her gaze towards her lap.

But who's to say that Kurou is in a class all his own, having had to recover

"It'd explain a lot, if it was true." Still, when Akechi offers, it sparks a glint of curiosity in Umie's eyes. She carefully offers out her red phone, and accepts Akechi's. "Now let's see," she begins to tease--

Well, *that* was quick. "Holy cow," she squeaks, eyes wide in a raw glimpse of wonder. She then coughs, offering a dramatic sigh as her phone's tossed back.

"Alas, you did the bare minimum and had it locked." Umie says, as she offers his phone back. Probably was a burner phone, besides, but did it really have to look newer than hers...?

To rebel against injustice... "Maybe if I hadn't blacked out, I could've been a proper Mask-san," she jokes. "But I guess, in terms of injustice..." The Order did do her an injustice, yet it took Akechi to ask her before she seriously considered taking them down, rather than simply glare incompetently across that gulf of power.

Is she still there...?

Her gaze grows beyond Akechi, in that moment, as she considers what is the thing she considers being the biggest injustice.

A pause, a moment of consideration, before she lets out a performative sigh, closing one eye. "Alas, I just have a powerful manifestation of my true self that I can call on when I need to, as well as know when I'm able to. Oh no."

Just like Akechi was able to hear the voice of his Persona when he first woke up, and remember it. What voice would Badb have...?

They are all, in many ways, built on the whims of Tricksters.

"I can't help there, either. Besides, for all I know, I could've gotten an understudy," Umie comments wryily, on the topic of Nyarlathotep.

As for the NWO, yet again... "I arrived in Sumaru City about a decade back, but I suppose, even if I experienced a Sumaru City without the Order, I'd might not remember it. When did you, Akechi-kun?" Though, they'd likely both be too young to really be aware, or care about it.

"Maybe... it's like the historical rumors. The rumors about a ninja princess isn't too dissimilar to the ones of... what was it..." She tries to remember. "Tatsuosuke Suou, Junnosuke Kuroda, and Maihime," pause "Amano."

Like something trying to manifest a thing that shouldn't be.

She would be scared, but, with Akechi, she feels less scared and more like it's simply a mystery to plunder for secrets. "It's like a locked door, but... any lock can be broken or surpassed eventually."

Only, there'd be another door at the other end, and another, after that.

A girl... who lays eggs?

Umie cackles.

"Don't look at me, I just open unsuspecting boxes." She smirks. "Only the finest, gifted to me by the gods~ You should really try it out sometime; sometimes you find hope at the bottom."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"You might be surprised at the effect of a Princess dress on a man." Akechi says with a wry note of humor, "And please, Umemura-chan is definitely a damsel of transgress."

He quips, both rhyming and punning, terrible.

"Ha." He says with a grin, "I wouldn't say I aspire to ''rule'', Akabane-san... much less to be some ideal of Just rule."

That much is true at least. He would never want to merely take Shido's place, or to become the worst of all things, which is synonymous with Shido- a politician.

"Hm. Yes, I do suppose that is true. I can't say I understand how precisely it works." He says, lying through his teeth, "My being a celebrity I do believe weakened my protection over time. Granted, I didn't go to any great pains to conceal my identity either. I have no reason to."

After all, people do believe he's on the right side of the law.

"It is almost certainly a trick of cognition, that much is true. When I first awakened- if someone witnessed me with my 'Mask' on- if I left the room, and transformed back- they would not even suspect it was me."

He does give her a smug look because the fact is that- "Well I'd say you earned the pity. After all. A half-dozen people who were beside you the day you witnessed me take that form for the first time- had seen right through it."

Ouch. Way to rub it in.

"In essence, yes, that's it exactly. I can't confirm that certainly, as I don't know where the Navigator comes from."

He is certain it must come from ''someone'' though, despite it being a product of cognition. In fact, he knows who it comes from precisely.

It's just he can't say that he does.

"Haha... were you hoping to sift through my fanmail?" He quips, not telling Umie that indeed it's his real phone, and if only she could crack the code, she'd have all the evidence she needs to figuring out he's Ruin- eventually, if she followed the trail within.

Alas.

At the same time though, it rather sells he's not got anything sinister on that phone if he's just willing to throw it to someone, right?

"Perhaps." He says to the idea she could become a 'Mask'. "It is after all, only a guess. For all I know, there's another qualification that I'm not aware of."

And he suspects the same. Umie was never out for 'justice' or 'vengeance' in a sense, when they first met. Not in the same sense as Akechi.

But he's not about to say so.

Instead, he chuckles at her statement of an understudy. "Well if you want to out yourself as a Theater Kid in that way..."

Then, Goro Akechi considers the prospect of when he arrived, before eventually deciding upon, "Nine years ago. And the disturbing question is. Even if there were a Sumaru City before the Order... would anyone even remember it?"

He places a hand upon his chin, "Even historians are forgetting that Sumaru City used to have a very different historical record. Without a care about whether the new history is real- or counterfeit. After all, why would they have any reason to deny the reality before their eyes?"

He does nod slowly at the idea of the connection to the Sumaru legend, "Yes, I would argue that it was specifically crafted to slot nicely into the tale... it is too- 'tidy'- I'd say."

A locked door?

"My, how larcenous of you." He grins, at the idea of it being broken or surpassed eventually, "And what do you think would be found behind this door?"

Then Umie relates herself to-

There's a flicker of, something in Akechi's eyes- something inscrutable. "Hope and butterflies..." He says, quietly, to himself, to the idea of Pandora, trailing off as if he were lost in thought.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Ran Umemura, trans-gress---

"Iiii think that's up to Amamiya-kun," Umie says, with a wry grin. "But I guess you really can't help yourself, can you~"

However, in here, a rebel gifts a captive forbidden goods, and inflects his Justice on her.

(Or... would it be more fair to say he's 'infecting' her?)

"Then why is the outfit a band major? Everyone knows they're a few steps away." Her teasing lightens. "Joking aside, I don't see you as that type. You're.... more the type to put things in motion."

Like rumors.

'I have no reason to.' That, Umie seems to react to, giving Akechi a pensive frown. "... Even with the Order?" She thinks on it, offering her own answer, free of Akechi needing to provide any himself. "...Then again... It's harder, when you're by yourself. I got along easily enough because the Dark Hour is a different beast compared to Mementos. At some point, we both had to look outward, even if we both prefer working on own terms."

She had years, but Mementos threw so much of it back at her and forced her to reconsider the boundaries of these different realities, just like Tartarus did.

That confidence can only go so far before she's merely acting.

Ouch. Umie sighs. "Shame on me for trying to keep an open mind," she says, rolling with Akechi's punch. "It just seemed... too obvious?"

She *is* winking there.

So much of this is a pantomime of what they know and don't, secret identities hidden within secret identities. Knowledge hidden in plain sight, with Umie nonethewiser, as it passes from her hand to Akechi's.

After all, who would believe that the same person who landed Umie in this hospital is the same one chatting with her? Umie wouldn't. To consider that possibility would mean seeing an enemy in every friendly face, and to distrust even your own gut instinct.

Just like, to access the idea of what injustice was done to Umie, it means facing who is at the helm of it all, and just how intertwined Nyarlathotep became in her life, without the entity really having to lift a finger beyond the initial push or three.

"I've never heard of anyone Awakening a second time, so." It wasn't the Order, but Nyarlathotep. "How can someone get *more* awake?"

"Imagine all the juicy gossip hidden within..." The blonde shakes her head. "A forbidden garden of secrets, and secret admirers. I'll regret giving this phone up so readily..."

She jokes.

"Please, I've had to be the perfect daughter for most of my life. That has to count for something." She lets her head hit her pillow with an audible 'paff'. "Just like you have to pretend to be the relatable boy detective next door, always available to all your fans."

Nine years ago. "So... not too long after I did, really." What caused him to come here, assuming he was part of the same orphanage as Akihiko and Shinjiro? Was he adopted?

Something in Umie's gut disagrees with the possibility, despite the lack of solid evidence. There is a strange thirst to him, sometimes--

` .... But she dismisses it, like so many other things.

"I wonder if there's records outside of Sumaru City that could give clues. The Order can't destroy *everything*, and rumors don't seem to travel outside of the city," Umie ponders. "Then again, what would a person do with that knowledge? Seems like a great way to make yourself a target, too..."

But it's still a Door, and doors must be opened, eventually.

Even the ones that will hurt the most. "Listen," Umie laughs, "The Dark Hour gives you a lot of time to look at closed doors. It's natural that you'll want to open them, right? Even if there's nothing on the other side."

Hope... and butterflies. "...." She observes that look in Akechi's gaze for a fair moment, the sound of the hospital machines working away.

"Akechi-kun," Umie says, as another moment passes by, as she looks at him from her propped up pillow. "... What's on your mind."

It's a gentle prodding; for once, she doesn't supply the possibilities herself.

Ren's been a terrible influence.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"If I can, know that I need immediate medical attention." He quips, regarding being unable to help himself, before snorting at the idea of a band major, "It's not like I designed it, so I can only speculate. It likely has to do with Princely archetypes in the Shoujo of the seventies."

Which is, way before Akechi's time. Still he doesn't clarify how he knows them. "Many designs were along those lines."

He leans back, crossing his arms anew, "''Especially'' with the Order. For starters- I'm a Celebrity, so they'll be hesitant to kill someone so high profile, but even if that doesn't stop them..."

He makes eye contact with Umie, "... it only leaves them further opportunities to create new evidence, in solving the case. I for one say that you ought never to deter your enemy from making a mistake."

He's certainly confident, isn't he?

He chuckles at the idea it was too obvious, grinning at her wink, before she indicates-

"Ah, if you mean in the sense that you could become one now? I have no idea whatsoever."

He shrugs, lifting up both of his hands in an exaggerated gesticulation, "It might require that qualification during your first such awakening, or it might not. Who can say? How would one even test it?"

'relatable boy detective next door'

He smirks yet again, "If that were true, I would have sent out on social media that I was visiting you at the hospital." He jests, in regards to always being available to his fans. "But you do have a point."

Another nod, at it being not too long after she did, "Roughly the same time, yes. And I can't precisely know the circumstances of Sumaru City before that point- I wasn't exactly supernaturally aware, back then."

When Umie indicates that surely the Order can't destroy 'everything'- Akechi prompts her, "Check your phone. Search online for history of Sumaru City, see what you find."

And when she starts, he adds, "It's quite possible some record still exists- but if it does, I have not yet found it. Older editions in libraries and bookstores are gone, now replaced with more 'updated' versions. And Sumaru City is hardly noteworthy enough for textbooks to cover it in depth. No... one must check more niche history volumes."

However, when she asks him about what's on his mind, and he lowers his hand, and looks up. "Ah- the reference to Pandora merely made me think of something I read once regarding an unrelated incident, pay it no mind."

He finally straightens back up and asks, "So, do you have a time frame on when they think you'll be discharged? And do you need someone to pick you up?"

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'It likely has to do with Princely archetypes in the Shoujo of the seventies.' "And why your dashing rival looks like he's wearing victorian clothing," Umie prods back, with a smirk. "It matches well; a cognitive shorthand to indicate what an older Persona may not show in itself. But then again, with the Tengu mask..." And it makes sense, why Akechi would know, in Umie's mind. After all, she didn't know about a Badb. "Which makes me wonder... will these outfits change as a Mask-san gets older? It's interesting to consider."

Someone so high profile...

"It wouldn't be beyond them to knock someone down a peg or two," she murmurs. Her eyelashes lower halfway, as she considers Akechi right back. "There's more than one way to get something done. Scaring away your clients, or... making it so that you get associated with boring, mind-numbing cases. Opportunities to improve becoming pruned away, until you realize there's just a stump of your former life." She can't be too angry-- university just was what was the accepted trajectory.

'I for one say that you ought never to deter your enemy from making a mistake.' "My, my, I admire your confidence," she teases. "I'll have to remember that advice for next time."

The idea that someone could become something different? "Yeah. Who's to say what mysteries the human condition can hold?"

She pauses on it, for just a second. But not a moment more.

Whether it was having a Mark that attracted Nyarlathotep, or if Nyarlathotep wanted a Mark to happen, it's a space she's used to. If she was going to die of it, or transform into a distorted god, or whatever the hell would happen, it would have happened already.

It's just a pretty idea, and pretty ideas are as flimsy as the princes in shoujo manga, or hope and butterflies.

"I'm glad you didn't. It'd ruin our chat." She considers. "I wish there was more I could tell you about the cognitive space I and a few friends found ourselves in, but it may that you'll have to investigate yourself."

Ah, right, he'd be here for that, wouldn't he? She got so caught up in simply talking (and eating, let's be real) that she failed to give him anything of substance.

"All this chatting and I never gave you something for your trouble, eh? What a terrible confidant I am... But being shot..."

'I wasn't exactly supernaturally aware, back then.' "... Neither was I," Umie admits, with a wince. "Even after Awakening."

Looking back at her phone, Umie begins to tap on it, and frowns. "Just a cursory search, but... I'm not even sure *how* to search for it, now that I think about it." Her right hand begins to cramp up before she has a chance to type further, so she sets the phone back down. "Point taken, though. It's been long enough. Even something unrelated like the Dark Hour feels like it's been there forever, rather than something man-made."

But what's on Akechi's mind, specifically?

An unrelated incident, huh. "Which one," Umie says, with a subdued cackle. "Demons can tell you some pretty interesting things, you know."

Demons do, but they weren't the ones to tell her about what happened at Tamaki's former school, or St. Hermelin.

With her next breath, Umie's tone turns to a solemn whisper. "Be careful with that knowledge, whatever it is, Akechi-kun. I'd hate to see you disappear, you know?"

Finally, as Akechi straightens up, Umie's expression lightens, as if she said nothing at all. "I just have to promise my doc that I won't go lifting weights with my left arm or whatever," she says, closing one eye. "I'm certain they won't be able to keep me more than another day, at most, but with the way I came in, they've been dragging their heels."

She shrugs. "And most of *that* was just not having Badb with me when I got out of that zone next to the hospital. Blood thinners aren't fun."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
While he doesn't say too much about the archetype of his rival, there's another shrug at whether his costume might change, "I'm not actually certain. Mine hasn't, in three years- and I'm a very different person from who I was in middle school."

Or so he says. There are differences though- the differences between a civilian with rough edges, and a serial killer.

"Yes I do suppose it is ''possible''- that they could do that, especially if I were a normal detective." Akechi agrees, "But I doubt it. The New World Order wields a hammer, and looks at every problem like a nail."

Every Persona User, he might have said.

"So I'm not exactly shaking with terror here. Even should they send that 'one in the Black Mask' at me- he still requires the supernatural. I would be alerted that something is wrong before he had the chance to strike."

And after a moment, he adds- "We have had run ins before. In fact, I believe I mentioned to you once that he shot me."

Indeed... what mysteries the human condition can hold?

"Boundless." He says immediately, "Though that's not to say that they don't abide by a certain logic. After all-"

He reaches into a pocket, and pulls out...

His ray gun!

"-This is merely a model, obviously. If I pull the trigger." Which he does, while it's pointed at the ceiling. "Nothing happens. In the Metaverse however, the Collective Unconscious has a certain acceptance of the idea of 'laser pistols' from media."

That's not to say anyone taking a laser pistol in could do the same thing he does though! There's a certain trick to it, and one he's not like to give away soon.

"Well... for the Dark Hour at least, if you go on Dark Side of Sumaru, Persona Users can at least give a rough timeline of when it first manifested. Though accounts are- confusing."

He admits, "It isn't the same for the history of Sumaru City. After all- most people are under the impression, these are real findings, not the product of rumors. Why would they have reason to think rumors could work on such a grand scale?"

Umie though, asks on the specifics of which one, and he huffs out an amused breath, "Heh." Before he quips, "A certain incident at a box factory." He says, unseriously, "I hear all the woes of mankind were released- it's the origin story of your ex-fiance."

He then leans backwards, crossing his arms, "Oh I have no intention of going anywhere, Akabane-san. After all, what would you do without my sunny disposition as a part of your life?"

A beat.

"Still, I'll be careful." He promises, before she talks about her discharge, "Hm, well, understandable. After all, they do have to report all gunshot wounds to the police. ... On that note, what did you tell them?"

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Hm. Then maybe not." Akechi would have to be the one who has been a 'Mask-san' the longest, though Vesper could have been at it for longer. It counts for something, especially when his life would have been far more turbulent than Umie's.

(She had it in her head that Akechi Awakened much later, but still, it may have been a matter of what questions she had asked, and what facts she got mixed together. That could have been when he had found Mementos. So many things to keep aware of!)

Does he say those things with real confidence, or is it just a front, like she often tries to project? "... A bullet can undo a lot of things, Akechi-kun..." At least, by the point, her concern for Akechi is well-established. But what would she say, if she knew the entirety of who Goro Akechi is?

Her trailing off is rebutted with Akechi's reminder of his own run-in with Black Mask.

"Aha, that's right. I guess we have one more then in common now, huh?" Umie chuckles. "I'm honestly half expecting him to come walking up the next Dark Hour, but I suppose... he may be stuck in that dimension still."

With her gaze turned away by this point, it's hard to wager what she feels. Is Joker stuck there as well?

"I doubt that'd be enough, to slow him down," she murmurs, softly. "I'm not sure I can forget what it felt like, to have that gun pointed at me. What was I thinking, going after a man's heart..."

Her chin dips, her eyes narrowing. "Sometimes I question what sort of person I am in those moments. It's ridiculous, to taunt someone so powerful, but it felt like the only way to regain control of the situation." Because he was taunting her. She knows that.

Akechi doesn't need to know that, she thinks. He would have never done something so reckless.

Looking up towards Akechi's ray gun--

--she smiles, and then laughs. "I remember when you brought that out in that one Palace. I don't know why, but at the time, it felt comforting."

"I don't think if I tried it it'd work as well, though," Umie supposes. "The way you hold it with confidence..."

Maybe she's reading into it too much.

Between the Dark Hour, and Sumaru City... "And even Sumaru City's reputation as being a weird city where weird things happen doesn't help. It's easy to end every sentence with 'because that's just how Sumaru is'." It would be interesting to see if she can search that far, with the Dark Side forum, on that note.... "You think... maybe there's something there about the Order, too. If it's happened within the establishing of the forums, maybe..."

'it's the origin story of your ex-fiance.' Umie makes a show of an appropriately flat face as she walks into that joke, but not too long after, she cackles. "So *that's* why the man's so boring to talk to. He's made of card-board."

YOU CAN LEAVE AT ANY TIME AKECHI, THE DOOR IS OPEN

What would she do?

"It would be a grey world indeed," Umie says to that, with a fond smile. "My blood pressure'd be a lot better though, you know...?"

That's called a callback.

As for her discharge, and what was reported, Umie herself just shrugs. "No clue. I wasn't in the mood to say much of anything at the time. I imagine the ship suddenly appearing on the hospital meant a lot of things got pushed to the side."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
His expression sobers as she indicates a bullet can undo a lot of things, "You're absolutely right, but don't you think you're preaching to the choir? After all... I investigate a lot of murders. However, if it puts your mind more at ease..."

He taps his brief case. "I'm licensed to carry a firearm for my work, and I can confidently say that I can outshoot any police officer in this country, given how little practice their training allows each year." He locks eyes with Umie, "And that isn't an exaggeration."

There's not even a hint of that braggadocio in his voice this time, it's so... so matter of fact.

However, the 'police officer' was chosen because it was specifically relevant to Sumaru City- and they both know why.

"Indeed we do." He does finally chuckle, "What an unusual turn of events..." A beat, "I wouldn't count on him being stuck in there. He's been traveling the Metaverse for longer than any of us have even been awakened."

He looks troubled, on the idea that she might actively be traumatized by the event, but- isn't that the obvious? Most of his targets don't live long after, and those that do, are all traumatized.

Every psychotic breakdown he creates ruins so many lives.

"I have... a few tricks up my sleeve. While I won't say that I could stop him, I do think I could sufficiently surprise him to get away." He finally allows, rather than address her hurt.

How could he? He doesn't have the right.

"We do what we have to." Is all he eventually says, of the idea of taunting him. "To survive. Sometimes what you couldn't believe you did in the moment is what needed to be done in the moment."

Indeed... it bought Umie long enough time for intervention, so could it not be said it saved her life in some sense?

"I don't think it says anything ill about you, specifically. Though I understand why you might take the time after for... self-reflection."

Eventually he slips the Ray Gun away at her words, "It's a powerful image, I suppose. Someone brandishing it in a certain pose. The 'cavalry' has arrived, so to speak. I'm glad it gave you comfort."

But... he can never really be the hero, or heroic. That is not who he is, nor will it ever be. He has made his choice.

For the sake of his Justice.

"... But, I don't know. Perhaps try it on for size one day, you may find it to be surprisingly enjoyable."

Though he doesn't say he'll teach her that trick of course. Nope. Part of the fun is somebody else figuring it out for themselves!!!

"Perhaps." He says on the Dark Side of Sumaru, "If so, it's buried so far that even I haven't found it. The internet has developed so much in ten years."

There's a chuckle at her laughter, before he says, with a grin, "Ah, so he's not a woe, but the box itself. That does explain so very much."

Though, when she says it was pushed back, he looks troubled, then places a hand on his chin. Pausing. Then eventually stands up.

"I don't believe in coincidences like that. While it might in fact be nothing, the moment they're arranging you for discharge, I recommend you have your boyfriend on standby to take you out through an exit they don't expect."

He stands up, and takes out his phone, "I'm going to go poke around to make certain it's in fact nothing." Tapping on it, he begins to leave the room, "I'll talk to you soon, focus on getting well and getting out of here for now."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>
If Umie could only fold her arms right now, she would!! "You got a point there. You and Katsuya-san have an advantage there that I don't, unless I want to risk something *else* screwing up." Though, Katsuya...

... She briefly makes a face, as she makes the connection to Akechi's choice of words. The Order is likely going to punish Katsuya soon, no doubt.

She'll file that away for later.

"I'll take your word for it. Cognition can't smooth over a shaky hand." Anymore than Umie's strikes can fake the level of prowess that Kurou's similar weaponry has, when it comes to going in for a kill.

As for Ruin... "Yeah. If we could get out, no doubt he can." And Joker... will he be okay?

A unusual turn of events, indeed.

As for trauma... Umie tilts her chin at Akechi's gesture of confidence in his future encounters with the assassin, taking in a breath.

"... That's likely the key, the same as always." While Akechi doesn't address her hurt, the logic seems to circumvent it entirely. "You've probably had to do the same, I imagine. Not just to survive, but for the sake of your Justice."

Look at how far Akechi's come, that Umie is willing to say that with a straight face, even some admiration.

Determination and control will always be something Umie finds admirable, as long as it's not being applied to subjugating her, after all.

As for the cavalry? "I suppose," Umie concedes, at the imagery. "In the moment, it just made me realize a little bit more about you as a person. You might've just gotten it at a toy store someplace, but it was still a choice you made, despite having the 'real' thing in your briefcase."

Pause. "..... then again that'd be really bad if forensics came in and identified what bullet was used, sooo."

She should try it, sometime.

"What, getting a laser gun? And steal *your* schtick? God forbid." She laughs, and ponders on it, red brown eyes narrowed into merry slits. "Maybe I'll make some origami stars and see if they act like real ninja stars. *That* could be fun."

She'll have to take another look at the Dark Side boards again, it seems, on another note.

AND ON ANOTHER NOTE, "The pun was sitting right there! I had to," she laughs.

Akechi's urgency, however, is finally realized for what it is.

"Uh--" Her eyes widen. OH. POLICE. SUMARU POLICE.

"Yeaaahhh, you go do that. I'll pass a note to my boyfriend--" hee hee she has a boyfriend and he's acknowledging it, hee hee "--or something." As he gets out his phone, she wiggles her fingers at him. "You need to get going anyway. I can't justify keeping you any longer. Except--"

She dips her head, once.

"Thanks, Akechi-kun. I can always count on you."
</poem>

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-07-14: It's Good to See Your Face

2026-08-10T21:26:29Z

Tanyuu: Created page with "*'''Log: It's Good to See Your Face''' *'''Cast:''' Umie Akabane, Goro Akechi *'''Where:''' Narumi - Main *'''OOC Date:'''July 14, 2026 *'''IC Date:''' December 09, 2012 *'''Summary''': ''As Umie lies vulnerable and helpless at the hospital following the Mizunagi Incident, a terrible assassin makes his visit to complete the job... with delicious foods from a variety of konbini chains. ALways so helpful, so trustworthy, always providing valuable insight to matters..."

*'''Log: It's Good to See Your Face'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Umie Akabane]], [[Goro Akechi]]
*'''Where:''' Narumi - Main
*'''OOC Date:'''July 14, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 09, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''As Umie lies vulnerable and helpless at the hospital following the Mizunagi Incident, a terrible assassin makes his visit to complete the job... with delicious foods from a variety of konbini chains. ALways so helpful, so trustworthy, always providing valuable insight to matters of the supernatural and Justice- what *would* Umie do without a friend like Akechi in her life?''

----

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Studies show that eating foods rich in-" *click*
"Oh, look at her go! She's in the final-" *click*
"Experts can't say why the boat-" *click*
"A samurai's worth is in his word-" *click*
"As Prime Min-" *CLICK*
"You activated my trap, Sato-kun! Now-" *click*

The TV goes black as a chipped red nail presses the power button on the TV remote.

Umie flops her head back into her raised pillow, turning her head towards the window outside, looking out onto a plain view of a chilly courtyard, December having come in full force. At least there's lights strewn through the branches, but with the sun out, they're not on to distract her.

Besides, there's an obnoxious bouquet of white roses, complete with a 'get well' card, halfway blocking the view. It's as if Honjou wanted it to the only thing, other than the TV, for Umie to look at.

With her left arm in a sling, her right wrist bandaged up, bandages over where Ruin's bullet ended up going (thank god), and various other miscellaneous injuries, the blonde's usual means to whittle away the time have been cut back. She can't do anything with her hands.

There's just the beeps of medical equipment, the murmur of staff walking by, dust motes in the sun streaming in, and an urge to look at her phone.

Oh. And nightmares, but that's for future Umie to deal with. Present Umie is wide awake, and is refusing to think about all the mysteries that have spilled out over the past few days.

Or the people left behind from them.

The TV turns back on, and Umie sighs. Maybe, in the five minutes that have passed, something interesting will be on.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Hospital Rooms can feel like jail cells when you don't want to be there. Sure, there are no bars, and you have some things you can do, but it feels like you are no longer in control of your life.

And just like Jail cells...

Knock Knock.

One can have visitors!

"Why hello there, may I come in? Or would you prefer I leave you to your channel surfing?"

Why- there's a familiar voice behind the knock. Assuming Umie doesn't tell him not to come in, because one does not enter a woman's room without permission- he will soon after.

"I know that flowers are the customary gift when visiting someone ill..."

He places a bag down on a bedside table, and suddenly, he's producing!

Konbini snacks. Mostly non-perishable snacks, but multiple sandwiches and cutlets and the like. "... but I felt you might appreciate something else more. Hospital food is- serviceable at best, ergo- I brought you a stash to keep hidden from your nurse."

He reaches in and pulls out a cold pack, "Also some long-lasting cold packs, so you don't have to eat the sandos all at once."

He hasn't said anything yet about what happened, the incident or the like- but then again, why would he? It's much more fun to play around first.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> How suspicious, Goro Akechi is here! Except, it is not suspicious, by any stretch of the imagination. He's the second coming of the detective prince for a reason, and this happened in the same ward as him! That's practically like being in his backyard. A ship disappeared, a ship embedded itself into the side of a hospital, a person named Umie Akabane was admitted into that same hospital...

It'd be suspicious if Akechi *wasn't* knocking on Umie's door right now, because it just seems like such a perfect situation to socialize in. Umie, lying in bed, unable to move much, and Akechi, able to walk right out at any moment he gets a need to be elsewhere.

All this, and he'd look like a complete prince just for showing up.

So of course Umie tells Akechi to come in. She's not even going to pretend she's not immensely happy to see him, even! (Well, okay, let's not go *that* far. She'll settle for 'seems moderately pleased to have him here'.)

"Come on in, Akechi-kun," Umie murmurs, with a half-grin. "I will always prefer your company over daytime TV." Such a high bar.

The delighted twinkle in her eyes grows to unabashed delight as Akechi sets down a bag on the bedside table with a familiar sound of crinkling wrappers and hollow plastic containers.

Konbini snacks!!!

"I wonder what hanakotoba says about these..." she quips. "Egg sando.... peace and comforting prosperity, maybe?" Akechi's even thought ahead, with... ice packs! "As a proper detective should," she assesses, nodding once. "We'll have to properly dispose of all evidences of your crime, of course." Experimentally, she holds up her right hand; coincidentally, the bandages happen to cover her Mark, for once. "Quick, one egg sando, before they notice."

She's grinning like an idiot, but that may be due to the pain meds. That is the excuse Umie would tell herself.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
How suspiciously unsuspicious! After all, Detectives know things. And he's a supernatural one. Indeed, one might wonder what pointed him in this direction- but in this direction he has come.

When he comes in, it's wearing a grey blazer so light it's almost tan, a tie- and a button up white shirt, as well as slacks matching his jacket.

Of course, there's also black gloves. One always must be prepared.

It's a Sunday after all, so he's not in his school uniform, but still something ''like'' one for work.

"Well, it's good to know I rank above Soap Operas and Talk Shows at least." He grins, "Although I do appear on the latter from time to time."

Then Umie asks quite the strange question, and as if he doesn't see the joke, he shrugs, "Knowing Hanakotoba? I'm not all together certain what emotions an egg would represent... perhaps yearning, hope? Likely one would pair it up with conceptions of feelings related to fertility."

As Umie suggests that they'll have to properly dispose of all evidence of a crime... he grins, "Please, who do you take me for?" And at the bottom of the bag he produces- a trash bag!!!

"All you have to do is hide it in here. Then tie it up and toss it within the garbage. Even if someone fancied searching through your garbage, you'd have already been discharged when your crime was discovered."

And of course, he produces- one Egg Sando. "I didn't know which one you'd prefer, so I stopped by several stores. Here's the Dawson's."

As he hands it over.

"In my opinion, it's the most palatable." Then takes a seat, giving her time to eat. He doesn't force a topic change onto her injuries- yet.

Mostly because he doesn't want to put a damper on the mood... ''yet'' at least.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Impeccable timing, impeccably dressed, impeccable hair, too. It's enough to make someone jealous that they haven't somehow prepared, even if their circumstances disallow for proper primping.

"Of course you are." She looks up to the TV, currently marked with 'MUTE', where two actors express themselves over a passionate argument. "Have you ever considered being on the former? I bet you'd be a hit, should you ever get tired of chasing mysteries."

She's mostly joking; she imagines the work would drive someone like Akechi completely bonkers.

Likewise, she doesn't see Akechi using a hidden language of comfort food to send a coded message, but it's a funny one to consider, after staring at those white roses for a few hours. "'I wish you success in your endeavors', then," she muses. "But I suppose, the best example would be, 'I brought you food, stop asking me'." She'd hold her hand to her chin, but instead, that half-smile has to just sit there, naked.

"Ahh, excellent." She'll have to hide these from Shiryuu, after all. How can a man who has murdered people be so obsessed with her eating healthy??

The questions may be coming, but Umie is happy to simply let them come on their own time, or assign themselves to the realm of assumptions. As a detective, and someone who has dabbled in the supernatural alone, injuries would simply be a part of the whole package It's barely been over a week since they've faced Hodai, however, and now, she's here, with arguably worse injuries.

.... Umie's glad Ren wasn't there this time to witness those deaths, at least. That's enough to give most people nightmares, including her, despite thinking she'd seen it all. Demons can die in cruel, violent ways, after all... It was shocking at first to her much younger brain, but she had gotten used to it the same way someone would get used to violence on a nature documentary. Even if a demon is almost completely human shaped, they are not bound by humanity, expressing themselves and holding themselves to a different credo that Umie had gotten far too used to.

"All of that, for me?" The question is presented like a quip, but there's a part of it that feels moved by the extra steps Akechi took. And so, when the next words come, they're warmer, unable to hold back as she accepts that sandwich. "Thank you, Akechi-kun."

So much irony, and only Akechi is in a position to appreciate it.

She eats the sando, careful not to overextend her right wrist any, from where Ruin slammed into it. "Mm. Did you happen to have something to drink on you?"

After that, Umie broaches one subject, at least. "By the way, have you heard from Amamiya-kun at all?" She frowns. "I've been trying to figure out what to text him in regards to that day, but I keep coming up blank. Plus, with everything going on..." SHe motions with her chin.

"Which... is another reason I have to thank you, for being there. I think that's why he took everything so well." Obviously.

Pause. "... You... *were* there, right?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"Haha... it has been offered but- I don't think I'd be much of an actor, myself." He says with a touch of good humor and no small amount of irony. "Besides, shows like that have such a rigorous filming schedule, that I'd have to give up being a Detective entirely."

Would it drive him bonkers? Perhaps not- after all, he desires validation, acclaim. At the same time, he wouldn't get it for being himself. He'd get it for the ''role'' and his talent playing someone else.

It would drive him up a wall, because he wouldn't be loved in and of himself, and he'd know it.

He shakes his head, snorting at her end result, that half-smile on her face and the 'I brought you food, stop asking me'.

How can a man who has murdered people be so obsessed with eating healthy? It's a good question, but Akechi would guess it's because he lives such a rigidly disciplined life.

... and Goro Akechi, despite doing so on the surface as the High School Detective Prince, is anything but in many other ways...

"Yes I decided to show you my acting skills by playing the role of the doting grandmother." He quips back, "You aren't eating nearly enough, Akabane-chan. Here, have some junk food."

When she asks if he has something to drink on him, he brings out a Ramune bottle, placing it in front of her. "Of course I do. Though you will have to hazard not separating your trash for a time."

...

Then she opens the subject and-

"After the incident with your ex-coworker slash stalker, we spoke briefly."

Though he won't say the context to protect their identity of course. "But not after- when I heard you were admitted to the hospital, I decided it'd be best if I spoke to you first... just in case."

He crosses his arms, "After all, wounds such as these beg questions from your friends that you may not want to answer."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Validation is a tricky beast to lure in, and one Umie is woefully unable to understand in the same way she'd understand loneliness. Of course she wants it, like any young adult...

The same goes for being loved. Her and Shiryuu bonded together with an almost magnetic force, simply because their loneliness played across that gulf of understanding in similar keys. Yet, both have families, and people who are concerned about them. Akechi, on the other hand...

The surreal idea of Akechi being a doting grandmother... Now, it's Umie who snorts. "Sorry, but I can't call you 'grandma'. My grandma would've brought apples or Nanbu crackers. Perhaps you are my caring doting brother instead?" she suggests, chuckling.

Not that she'd know what that was like, outside of media. What would Grandma Rie have thought of junk food...?

Those memories are hazy, like spring night fog.

The ramune soda is offered, and she takes it gratefully. "Don't tell me you didn't get yourself anything after all that running around," she says, one eye closed as she lowers the bottle down. "'Akechi-kun, you're not eating nearly enough. You're skin and bones!'"

ah, how the turns... table.

"... Well-" This is from another incident, she's about to say, but that feels like getting off the subject. "He doesn't need to know *that*. I'm mostly concerned that he's okay. You and I can laugh off a guy attacking with a vending machine, but he saw his co-worker get hurt by some random guy." Not to mention Kurou is convinced he'll have to break ties, but that heartbreak is another matter. "I guess... you've known him for longer, so I was just wondering what you think. Should I just... not say anything next time we're on shift together?" She carefully tips her bottle back. "I've never had this happen before, is what I'm saying. You operate on the edge of more worlds than one, so... I'm looking to you for advice."

Pause. It makes her feel a little too naked, just directly asking him for advice. So, she adds something, a touch impishly: "Afterwards, I might be persuaded to offer some of that information about what happened here, if you're looking for that."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Indeed, he made the comparison because it was so ridiculous. However, now that she calls him a 'caring doting brother' his smile wavers just a touch, then, "Well... it would certainly be more apt."

He's quiet, perhaps a little solemn on that one. What does Umie think of him? And he tried to murder her. Perhaps it would be a kindness, 'euthanasia' in a sense.

But...

He manages to come back to whenever she says he's skin and bones. "Of course I ate something on the way." He scoffs at her, "What kind of gift would this be if I immediately went? ... And by the way, I'll be taking half of it."

He leans back, arms still crossed, "Besides, I eat more than enough from my TV appearances- do you have any idea how much food an entire production crew has back stage?"

Akechi looks away as she speaks about the vending machine, "Well, one person was certainly laughing." He grouses, remembering the incident, before contemplating what Umie says and-

"I think some version of the truth that's palatable to a normal person is for the best." He says, and it's certainly ironic, given that Ren Amamiya isn't normal. "Then- if they remember more, you can go from there. After all, if they do, it's a sign they have the potential to become a Persona User themselves, one day."

It's a bunch of lies all put together to protect Ren's identity, that alone is amusing enough.

"Perhaps- you were attacked by a stalker at the con. He threw a steel chair at you. He's been jailed for now- while the cops investigate his crimes."

Reaching up, he rubs his eyes with a gloved hand, then, "Yes... I think I will ask. What did you get involved in after- everything that happened that put you here?"

A beat.

"And I'll do you a courtesy just this once and not play detective."

Surprising. But he does truly feel bad. Ordinarily he'd mess with her and ask questions that outright accuse her just to see how she reacts.

He holds up one finger, "I know you were shot by a small caliber firearm, which is what put you here." He holds up a second finger, "And the timing of your admission coincides with that incident involving the research vessel striking the Narumi Memorial Hospital. ... That is what I've deduced already."

Such genius detective work, so wow, given that he's the one who put her here.

</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "It would be," Umie reflects, a second later, as if realizing a similar notion at about the same time. Ghh... she was never like this _before_, but she also didn't have people she could even mention the presence of the supernatural. Even people like Toki, who would be trustworthy at the very least...

But she actually does feel a bond of trust with Akechi, despite his more eccentric traits, despite knowing him for a far shorter amount of time. And for Akechi, Umie wonders, what lurks beyond his own hesitancy?

Perhaps it's to do with his detective work, she reasons. She's probably being to chummy with him.

She'll just blame the pain killers, like a proper adult!

'By the way, I'll be taking half of it.' "Ah, ah, good. You're growing boy andddd... I'm sorry, I can't continue with that," Umie snickers. "And is that so...?" She ponders, tilting her head. "... So that's your real reason... I see..." She's kidding!

Well, one person was certainly laughing, Akechi recounts. "I guess I lucked out..." Umie idly muses. "All I remember is people coming, and..." That Shiryuu came for her. Kurou, coated in glass, moving so fast it was like he was dancing with his weapon. That Akechi's shoulder felt hard. That she ruined things. That Ren said things, and for some reason, she just trusted it.

That was definitely the concussion talking.

Ren is, of course, a normal person, what do you mean, Akechi. Akechi does bring up a consideration Umie's pondered before, in passing: the potential. "... Doesn't that worry you? Sure, he'd have plenty of people who'd help him, like us, but. Pushing that aside, could you handle him knowing about those sides of you? Or that he'll be dealing with the Dark Hour?"

Not all of this is just about Ren: Umie also wants to know what Akechi thinks about this matter himself.

As for the rest, Umie seems to invite the question. "Go ahead. I can't promise I can tell you everything-- after all, some things are dangerous just to know, right?"

Like disembodied mummified heads. Akechi's words on that are not ones Umie's forgotten.

'And I'll do you a courtesy just this once...' "My, my," Umie's hands jerk again, and she stops them, continuing on, "how courteous of you." Akechi may appreciate the way Umie's arms and body jerk, responding to those impulses to express herself, then immediately declining as ow ow ow ow.

As long as she thinks in abstracts, it's easier to lay quips like little bombs around, and not be distracted by the dark matters that lack coherent shape in Umie's mind.

She'll at least confirm his points. "Mmhmm," Umie says. Augh, she so wants to put her hand on her hands to mime listening to a story about Akechi's day.

The ship. Yes. Her expression stills as her mind touches on it, unable to make sense of any of it.

She gives a sigh.

"... And what do you think happened there?" she asks. Her eyelids lower slightly. "Then I'll know what I can tell you."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Akechi at the very least, doesn't explore the issue. Like so many things, he puts away uncomfortable subjects for later. He's so good at compartmentalizing things. Blood had always mattered so much to him that the idea that there can be the possibility of family without had never occurred to him.

Mostly because, without the ties of blood, who would ever want to be around him or be his family?

Of course, the moment she knows the real him, it wouldn't matter anyway. And even if by some miracle it were otherwise, soon enough, she'll be gone.

He snorts at her growing boy comment, "And you're ''not'' a growing young woman any longer. So I have to suspect you only wish me to grow taller in order to reach the top shelf for you."

Well he gives as good as he gets.

There was definitely a concussion talking. And he certainly didn't contribute to it by just dropping her, nope.

If you think that, then your memory is being affected by concussion.

"You did. And I just so happened to be in the area." He says, with a shit-eating grin which lets Umie know that he absolutely suspected something was coming and was there because of her.

Doesn't it worry him though? About Ren.

"Could I handle that?" He pretends to look contemplative, "Yes, I do believe I could. We all have our secrets. Things we keep hidden from even our friends. From interests we'd rather not reveal- to something such as this."

It's a step forward that he can even say Ren is a friend now- but Akechi you definitely can't handle Ren as they are right now.

"Sometimes these things come out. Whether by happenstance or- artifice. It's best to assume any secret you're keeping could one day be learned by someone in your life."

Of course, him being Ruin he finds very unlikely anyone could because he's too smart for it hohohoOHOHOHOHOHO.

"Yes, I offer very courteous courtesies." As he quips back her way. "The most courteous, of course." Before he then frowns as he saw that wince, but then settles back.

"On that I'm uncertain of the exact details. However... in the aftermath I found an anonymous rumor post in Dark Side of Sumaru that's been circulating for about a week that allows me to make certain deductions..."

Goro Akechi steeples his fingers together, "...someone has altered your family history by rumor to tie you to the Ryouhara clan, your family line being the lineage of a mythological Princess named 'Unohime'. Furthermore, they linked that to a research vessel known as the Mizunagi, which was supposed to smuggle recently unearthed artifacts regarding this altered history."

He then looks beyond towards Umie, waiting on their reaction, "The manifestation of a rumor can be unpredictable at best. My guess is that- the rumor manifested in a way that the one who wrote it could never have expected."

That much is quite true! He never would have expected ''that'' to happen.

"Somewhere in the incident regarding that 'manifestation' you were shot."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Akechi has full confirmation of what Umie would do and act, right there, right? She'd hate him, and even when she asked if he was cursed as well, he'd feel no reluctance in throwing it right back at her, while keeping her in the dark just how doomed she is.

All of his statements could be taken in more than one way, and the truth is beyond what Umie can imagine, no matter what jokes or caustic ponderings she's made aloud.
... Or even dreamed.

'And you're ''not'' a growing young woman any longer.' Umie tsks. "Rude."
'So I have to suspect you only wish me to grow taller in order to reach the top shelf for you.' "And what do you think I have Amamiya-kun do?" (As well as other employees, but Ren is most relevant here.) She shamelessly admits to it!

Good for Umie, though, that Akechi is just as shameless, admitting he 'just so happened' to be in the area. "Uh huh..." She takes another bite of her egg sando, switching over to the ramune soda, one eye closed. "How can I ever doubt that radiant smile of yours..."

The subject of Ren, and in turn how Akechi would treat such things in general, is handled with more seriousness. She listens, taking in Akechi's viewpoint, stifling a smile as she hears him indirectly confirm he considers Ren a friend.

"... It's scary to consider." Perhaps, Akechi's secrets aren't as deep, or he's more prepared for them to eventually come to light. "That this is a risk that we have to take, just to engage with other people."

But in turn, because he shares this, he hears an admission from Umie, whether unwelcome or no: she considers him a part of this strange 'grouping' she's made in her mind.

Will he appreciate that, when she has no idea the man who almost killed her is sitting nary a meter or two away from her?

"I'd expect nothing less than the highest courtesies from you," she says right back, unfortunately fumbling over how to continue. To court his courtesies? No, she's not courting him, she's courting the gumpy shinobi who is currently being a terror to his nurse, who is having none of his attitude.

Ahhh, her prince-

".... eh?" Umie casts a blank look at Akechi. No, she was *not* expecting this at all. So now, with Umie's blessing, Akechi gets to reap his just rewards, borne from the seeds he himself planted. "My wrist hurts when I hold up my phone for that long, and it's outdated, so... I... haven't been keeping up..." Blink, blink. "How."

"How the hell." The Ryouharas. "Uno.... hime...? I'm... what?" no, Umie, your descendant is a princess, not you, silly!

Umie takes a breath. "Wait, no. Rumors can't be *that* powerful. It's just things that are easy to change, like..." Shops selling weapons! Easy. ".... My parents met up north, in Aomori." And there's a Ryouhara branch in Akita... "The Order must be behind this somehow... because... Uh."

The egg sando lies forgotten, in her hand. "... Wait, you're just pranking me, aren't you?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"Obviously you need a backup." Akechi says, of that being Amamiya's purpose. "And one for supernatural shelves."

He knows FULL WELL she can 'jump good' when powered up.

"It is." He agrees with her on how frightening it is, "But it is a small price to pay for the power we wield. In a sense, without it- both of us would be helpless to even perceive a whole part of the world we live in, much less do anything about it."

He inhales, then shakes his head, "Just imagine what our lives would be like if we were in the middle of this without our powers... or even where you might be right now."

Umie however is incredulous when at first delivered the news of the rumor, and Akechi watches her reaction.

"You would love it if I said 'Just Kidding' right about now... but no I'm not pranking you." He says with a solemnity, "I'm quite serious. Whoever spread the rumor was utilizing the fervor of those invested in the 'History Boom' in order to make certain it would take hold."

He looks up at the ceiling. Then takes a deep breath and-

"Honestly, I am beginning to believe the power of Rumors is without limit. The boundaries were never about whether something is easy to change- but whether it is a rumor that remains within the public consciousness. That it continues to live 'Rent Free' in people's heads, so to speak, far beyond wherein they've heard it. The more people you can convince..."

He allows that to linger for a time, with the implication obvious.

"... It's quite terrifying. However, the more fantastical the rumor- the easier it is for people to dismiss it. As it stands- the idea that you're descended from a Ninja Clan's Princess isn't that difficult for people to accept, since they think it came from the Honmaru Park dig site."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> ... How is Akechi managing to make something she was afraid of suddenly sound fun? "Supernatural shelves, eh..." She stalls, glancing to the side with a rueful expression. "... Now you have me wondering what a Persona of somebody like Amamiya-kun would even look like." Maybe something like that confident, mysterious persona (lower case p) Ren had during the cosplay convention...

_wait, no, why is she seriously thinking about this_ "... Then, let's agree that, if Amamiya-kun *does* have a Persona hiding inside him--" ha ha ha Umie hasn't realized that Potential had a capital P "--we'll make sure he adjusts just fine." Why does Umie look so serious

And indeed, Umie is quite nimble at scaling up obstacles that would be normally impossible, even for someone who's tall. (... though, Shiryuu found out the hard way that Umie has been doing some bouldering of her own and is willing to use it on him.)

At least she feels better about it. "I suppose. I've had mine--" Badb, that is "-- long enough that it's hard to imagine life without her. Is it like that, for you and yours? Even if it's a shorter time frame, going through Mementos by yourself..."

Where would she be, without her powers? She makes a face, as she considers it. It's a rhetorical question, meant to lead to the obvious answer of 'they'd be dead'. The answer would be the same here, as well; her survival would have depended on another set of events to happen: her heart condition being found out and treated, for instance.

She forcefully glazes over it, turning her attention instead on poor, poor Akechi. "Mm, are you implying that even you would be over your head?" It's a fake question, a diversion from something she doesn't want to think about. A contradiction in her logic, that strikes like a lightning bolt far too close for comfort.

'What if things aren't as random as they should be?'

Like an answering chime of a bell, the next topic hits nearly the same note: a rumor, about her and the Ryouharas, tied to the same burial site that birthed the History Boom in Sumaru City, as Akechi pinpoints. "... So it plants the seed of belief, and spreads from there as the belief is confirmed, like a feedback loop. Just like the stories of Kurosu, Amano, and Suou-- enough to spawn a small shrine near the sanitarium. And then there's Wang Long; Ishigami-san could say anything at this point, and it'd come true."

It's not even about belief, anymore. "Like an information virus. Just you telling me, or me reading it later, makes us a part of its spread. The only way for something like that to properly die would for it to be forgotten, or for the public to move onto something else."

But the fact that she, Umie Akabane, normal boring konbini worker, and the Ryouharas, a family of shinobi that do not interact with the public, makes it suspicious, in a way.

"Do you ever wonder why it's here, in Sumaru City, that rumors can work like that? It's always been a strange city, but Tokyo has its share of strange districts. Sumaru City, though... it's like a 'Mementos' onto itself."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"Certainly it would have glasses and an apron." Akechi says cheerfully. "I'm guessing Fire Element, after all, Amamiya-kun devotes so much of their free time to making the perfect cup of coffee."

Of course, those are all lies he's curating to keep her away from the truth, since he's not certain if she knows- or what she knows or not.

"Of course we will. I've actually introduced several people to this world, believe it or not."

Including one of the Phantom Thieves but he's not gonna say that!

"My Persona..." Akechi pauses, thinking of how to describe it then, eventually- "I see it as one of my limbs, I suppose. It's been with me for so long that it truly is that much a part of me." As for whether he'd be in over his head without one?

"Of course. Does it surprise you that I'd think that? If I can't perceive the supernatural long without remembering it, then there's no way for me to interact with it. Now- that's not to say a Persona User is invulnerable."

He strokes his chin in thought, "I suppose that without one, it's not impossible I could take them in a fight, under the right conditions- with preparations, but- how would I know to prepare at all for the eventuality that the supernatural is real?"

Akechi does indeed actually have plans for if his Persona powers were somehow sealed. A necessary eventuality given the things the New World Order is coming up with.

Umie explains in her own way what he surmised about rumors, and eventually he nods, "The issue is that one cannot predict how it will be spread- or what form it takes within people's minds. In a sense, it's like a telephone game. It's likely that if everyone has different 'conceptions' of the rumor, then it is difficult for it to form."

He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms again, "As it stands, there's not much room left for interpretation in the rumor I saw posted- so it likely has become reality. Your family lineage has changed."

Then she asks a good question, and he looks right at her, "I think the answer for why it can happen is rather simple, actually. I think some God or Devil has taken an interest in Sumaru City, personally. And perhaps we already know 'whom' it is- given our good friend, Tatsuya Sudou."

The good friend part he says with a most sarcastic tone, of course.

"You said his name once to me yourself." He prompts, "Though how does one fight something like that? ... That, I do not know."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Sureeee, they're lies designed to lead Umie astray, and not just you having some fun, Akechi. "Glasses and an apron..." Umie's expression goes flat. "I'd... think he'd probably like something that didn't remind him of his evening shift the next day."

More bewildering is how Akechi openly admits to helping introduce several people to this world. "What, using the Persona Game? Or you mean help them get a handle on what's going on?" She frowns. She's tried to do the same for the Phantom Thieves, though who knows how well she really helped, once they got past her initial understanding of things. "How do Mask-sans even... become Mask-sans, anyway? Is it just... you have a potential to become a Persona User, and you... just have a mask, instead of... the other types?"

Hearing Akechi describe how his Persona is to him (which is, of course, Robin Hood), the blonde's face relaxes; she breathes, eyes closing. "... yes." No wonder that it's so painful, when it's hit when manifesting.

Does it surprise Umie that Akechi would admit to that reality? Maybe not entirely, as his success comes from somewhere, but hearing him take that question and answer it seriously does allow Umie to feel a mote of respect for him to admit to it. (... _unlike a certain shihaisha_, but it *does* allow a point for her to jab.)

Furthermore... "... So you noticed that too." This may mean Amamiya-kun will forget, perhaps. "At first I wondered if it was just a response to trauma, but given how reliably it happens... maybe it's tied to the way some people develop Personas and some don't."

"But yes." Umie looks to her forgotten egg sando in her hand, and the bandaged spot where that bullet hit, now covered by her hospital gown. "Bullets still work. If it weren't for my Persona, I likely would have bled out before I got proper care. Blood thinners complicate a lot of things." She tilts her head, giving Akechi a cheeky lopsided smile. "Ah~ oops, I let something slip. Please do ignore."

Akechi has his eccentricities, and has his own issues with becoming close to people (or whatever private matters that brought Ren to his doorstep), but his forward direction sometimes runs in a similar manner to Umie's own, though she cannot understand what drives someone to have a 'Justice' behind it, whether personal, or something more like Katsuya's own. It makes talking about these bigger phenomena feel like she can get somewhere.

.... Even if it means having to sometimes stare a few demons (of the personal kind) in the face. But isn't that part of looking into a mystery, or trying to reach past that locked door?

"... Like with the Sevens rumor." Umie nods. "You'd have to predict how people would act as a whole, not just logic your way in and hope people appreciate you trying to solve some problem." She takes another bite of her egg sando, finally, switching to the ramune soda. "But who would do a thing like that, I wonder..." She did. Look, she's even closing one eye as she says that.

"Which means... somebody thought it'd be fun to play with my family bloodline. Kind of scary, but I can't even think back to any further relatives aside from my grandma."

As for what? "... a God or Devil, huh..." The ramune bottle is set back on the sidetable, as Umie sits with her thoughts, the intermittant beep of the monitors presenting a constant ticking of some clock. "If it really was something like that, why use rumors, when you could just 'do', if such things exist. But there is definitely something that is being served by all these coincidences..."

"... Nyarlathotep." She remembers Ruin's words. "If it's anything like the thing in the short stories, it feels like something that delights in our suffering. That it's all just a game..."

There's a thread of anger laid underneath those words.

"... You keep trying, is what you do. Over and over. You resist."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>"Probably, but one doesn't get to pick the look of one's Persona. Not really." He smirks at Umie. He does like Robin Hood, certainly- but he understands that if he could have chosen its look, he would not have made it quiteeee so over the top.

As to her question- he shakes his head, "Oh, no, I mean as in having given them an 'orientation' of sorts once they had awakened. I don't try to make it happen."

That's perhaps one of his biggest lies tonight, of all of them.

"As for that... to be perfectly honest. I'm not certain. Not even the Metaverse is a necessary factor, from my observations. One person I know awakened in Sumaru City."

He won't say who of course.

"It is a mystery, the combination of factors that are involved- whether there is some 'patron' who determines such, or otherwise. There are simply not enough clues at this time- only patterns."

It is easy to admit that if one was helpless- they'd be helpless, even for a prideful person like Akechi.

It is after all, only hypothetical.

"Exactly. And unfortunately there could be other factors as well. Rumors are after all 'unnatural' and none of us are given a set of rules. It could be certain people possess a 'back door' of sorts to make rumors take hold of more easily."

Like say a Severed Mummy Head in a Shrine.

"Yes, it is quite terrifying. It's- not impossible that one could use a rumor to change fundamentally who you are as a person. However, as Persona Users we at least seem to have ''some'' natural resistance... and well- it is my belief at least that as a celebrity- I'm partially immune to such drastic changes to begin with. Too many people out of Sumaru City know who I am and have a soild conception of that."

So being a celebrity at least makes it difficult for someone to suddenly go- 'Goro Akechi is actually a girl raised as a boy' or the like.

"However that doesn't mean certain... creative rumors couldn't get around it. Uncertainties- voids to fill within one's past with tabloid gossip... you understand what I'm saying."

Nyarlathotep.

"The man from Egypt, who has legions of followers. In a sense, perhaps the New World Order is... that, for him."

You keep trying, is what you do. Over and over. You resist.

"Well, if it were true Lovecraftian horror. One is unable to resist. But- that doesn't mean it has to be that way. One should resist until the bitter end."

And burn down the world around you in your fury.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie opens her mouth, as if to object; she then thinks further on it. "... Yeah," she murmurs. "Badb's look changed very little, despite how young I was when I first summoned her." She pops the last bite of her egg sando into her mouth, drinking her ramune. "Younger me probably would have appreciated something more... girly?" But Umie can see something feminine in the cold veined skin, whipped fabric, and nails, a creature of death and violence manifested, confident in her domain, restless when she's not. A devil of broad strokes and pointed fingers, reflecting the smile and chaotic energy of a person whose best plans have as much of a chance to fail as to succeed.

"Yours is certainly more heroic-looking, but like you said, it's through the lens of Robin Hood as the trickster. He had his own justice, separate from the law that made his trickery necessary." That's the fun part, isn't it? Akechi can say one thing, and Umie will fill the rest of the narrative to make it logical. Whether it brushes up against the truth or not wouldn't matter.

Umie wouldn't have any reason to disbelieve that Akechi had an intentional hand in the awakening of more than one person, including a Phantom Thief. "The question is... did that Metaverse app appear on phones before or after a person summoned their Persona? If before, would it be something in the cognitive world responding to something in that person, or is it an intentional 'tuning' of that potential into something else?"

She has her reasons for wondering the latter, having pondered what was similarly 'tuned' by her Mark, and by extension, Nyarlathotep. However, the idea that other 'patrons' exist never occurred to Umie, if her head tilt indicates anything. "A patron, huh... well, I hope that 'patron's' more fun than mine." She grins, eyes twinkling merrily. "Sounds like someone mischievous, to like masks and hiding so much~" oh, Umie, how wrong you are... "But yeah. All we have are patterns. There's just as much indication that there's nothing there but a narrative that gives everything cohesion."

Certain people, having more of a 'back door' to influencing rumor... "But wouldn't that be a rumor to make that a thing?" Umie supposes. "Rumormongers are often seen as more adept because of their knowledge of goings on. To imagine a mysterious person or organization is more adept just because of some hidden reason... that could be a deadly thing to spread." oh she wants to shake her finger so bad ughh "Outside of intelligent debates between two people willing to think of the possibilities, of course." She'll wink at him. That works.

It *is* terrifying. But, in talking about it, it feels like something she can play with in turn over, rather that broil her mind in endless 'what if's and ruminations. Goro Akechi, second coming of the detective prince, may be more immune, for example... "... While in comparison, 'that runaway Akabane girl' is someone with a lot smaller thumbprint," Umie builds on. "The collective idea of who that person is is easier to edit; that, or reality is just edited around that person. Your background, for example."

Her eyes center on Akechi and sit there, intentionally. What Umie has to determine her theory of what Akechi's background is will be based on evidence as loose as the evidence she had that Akechi was a Persona user, the specifics aren't needed here. "... A rumor can start that you are the son of someone famous. A famous movie star," no she's not going to choose politican after having to stare at that damn bouquet for what feels like way too long "... and that's how you got your start, and where you got those good looks. But it'd have to be a mystery who it is; all the better to construct a story that is interesting, and feed into the image you've projected."

Indeed, Umie understands what Akechi is saying. As for Nyarlathotep... "From what I remember, a lot of it was the protagonist slowly recalling the horrors of what he saw. Like he was a passive observer, unable to affect a greater being's plans," she murmurs, softly. "For the sake of a short story, it's necessary. But for those of us on the chessboard, we make do with what we have."

'One should resist until the bitter end' is a fine thing for someone like Akechi to say. But for the person underneath that pleasant face of his... it means something different.

And for the blonde, with her worries of a possible Dark Hour visit from Ruin, implications of things larger than her rumbling in the details, and a worrying sensation of what may come next... she does what she does best: act like she's not as scared as she actually is, deep inside.

"A boring pawn is disposed of quickly, or when it outlives its usefulness. A pawn that resists your hand... wouldn't that be the sort a being like Nyarlathotep would find more interesting? Even if it will always eventually move according to your wishes... it's the struggle that may be more interesting to see."

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.

"Well in a Jungian sense, a Persona is a mask one wears to present themselves to society. In our case, a 'mask' which allows us to face the supernatural on equal terms..."

Akechi raises a gloved hand, palm up in a one sided shrug, "... if your younger self didn't equate 'femininity' with agency in such spaces, it makes sense that Badb would not be especially 'girly'."

So what does that mean about Robin Hood, then? Nothing, shut up. Akechi for one isn't going to discuss its aesthetics and what they mean aloud.

"Indeed so, and just like him- I have my own Justice, which is distinct from the laws of this country, even if I often align with them."

He leans back and crosses his arms, "Robin Hood's antagonists were Prince John and the villainous Sheriff of Nottingham... but they were corrupt usurpers of a more just King... Richard the Lionheart in many versions of the tale, whom Robin had pledged fealty to."

In other words, it's not exactly a contradiction that Robin Hood follows the law ''he'' believes is Just, rather than the current law of the land.

"Before." Akechi says to Umie, with a certainty, "Not everyone necessarily notices it, but it always appears shortly before the event in question. Whether it's a matter of days, hours or mere minutes. While I don't have proof of this in every circumstance- I do in a great many."

As an example... Ichika. Though he's not about to mention how he knows that.

Again, he lifts his arm as a shrug, "While I have no confirmation, I suspect it responds to something known as the 'Will of Rebellion'. Nor can I answer you on precisely ''what'' it is- or how it comes to be in some individuals."

Placing a hand upon his chin, "If I had to speculate, it primarily seems to be a part of those individuals who have suffered some sort of grave injustice- and do not accept it as simply the way of the world, but as something wrong that must be opposed."

He takes his hand away from his chin as they talk about the 'patron'. "Perhaps. But we are speaking of gods and devils. Even the most benevolent deity can be just as much a devil in our mythology."

There's a soft chuckle, as he thinks upon it, "I would not bet on the idea that such patrons are necessarily better- even if I doubt they could be much worse."

Naturally he hasn't spoken to Ren on this one. Naturally. And has no intention of doing so... even implying he knows something, would give away so much.

Settling back and crossing his arms again, "Well, how do you think the New World Order came to be?" He poses this question, in regards to such dangerous rumors, "Do you really think such an organization was built up naturally- when it bases itself in a city where rumors can change the nature of our world?"

Indeed it's quite clear that Akechi doesn't think it was. Despite it having began years before he could have possibly been a part of it to know for sure.

"Indeed so. The less people know about you, the easier it is to believe such fanciful things as you being a Kunoichi Princess in a Ninja anime." He says with a smirk, "Whereas for me- well, like I said, I understand full well where my past would be vulnerable to rumors."

But, that's partially why he stays so abreast, so he can perform ''counterplay'' immediately when rumors opposing him begin.

Umie however, spells it out, and there's a sigh, and another shrug, "Yes exactly. And people would prefer to believe that I such a lineage, because it's more comfortable within their narrative of how I'm so competent and talented."

He looks up at the ceiling, "Otherwise, it would force them to reconsider their narrative of those left within foster care as being the children of degenerates- who will be a drain on their society for the rest of their lives."

Yep, he stays right on top of those rumors. The last thing he needs is for someone to change the fact Shido is his father. That would make all his work towards this vengeance ''moot''.

"Yes, that's exactly the essence of it. The eldritch- the unknowable, laughs at our attempt to have any sort of agency. But that does not mean they have to be correct..."

There's a chuckle, "I actually rather detest Lovecraft's themes. But still- it seems it was worth reading after all."

There's a pause at the idea of what he finds the most interesting.

"I... hesitate to say that he'd necessarily find them more interesting. I won't claim to understand the mind of such a being as the one we might face. But if I had to guess..."

...
...
...

It's a terrible memory, staring so deeply into Takahisa Shinjo's eyes. Knowing how small he truly was in comparison. Whether he could defeat him or not, wasn't the question. It was how small he was to what was behind those eyes.

"... I would say that they find our attempts to make ourselves more interesting- to resist their will... amusing, at best."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> TOO LATE, Umie's already looking at Akechi with one of those slightly squinty looks, as she thinks of exactly that, because it's a good point. While Akechi's enamored with Sherlock Holmes, his Persona embodied the traits of a 'purer' hero archetype, signifying a drive for justice than the themes of Sherlock Holmes would directly support.

The Badb is a gargoyle, meant to scare away all the scary things that could come gobble a delicious little girl up.

"... Yeah." Umie frowns. "I may have wanted a pretty fairy tale princess then, but that wasn't what I *needed*. And you... it's not about the mystery, but that your Justice is served. King Richard isn't coming back from the crusades anytime soon, and there are plenty of Prince Johns and Sheriff of Nottinghams to deal with. You didn't need a Sherlock Holmes, you needed a Robin Hood."

Or a Loki...

"Before," Umie parrots, with a blink. "It's just weird, to have it be because of a manmade device. You'd think a mirror, or... magic words." She tilts her head with a lopsided grin. "You think it gets updates every once in a while? Maybe one day there'll be ads added... Then you'll know it was evil all along."

The concept Akechi mentions, however... "A... Will of Rebellion? As opposed to A Will of Justice?" She considers, the fingers of her right hand jerking up in a complusive track to her chin before she forces them back down. "Well, no one's going to keep us from theorizing, right? I want to hear what you think."

She listens, nodding slowly. "With the Phantom Thieves, then, maybe it was a spark of 'rebelling' against people like that school coach-- not that that was their genesis, since they would have had to find each other first." She gestures now to Akechi, with her chin. "And with you... I could see it being your 'Justice'. Just because it corresponds with the law of the land doesn't mean you're less of a rebel, if that's what you're holding in your heart."

"Is this just a general term you've heard, like how we all call it the 'Dark Hour'?"

A rebellious means of becoming a Persona user... "Trickster gods weren't the greatest beings, yeah," Umie laughs. "Even a 'gift' of fire can mean the gods suddenly see you as a danger to them."

Wills of Rebellion and what a 'Mask-san' is is pleasant enough topic, but the NWO...

No, it's clear from Umie's face that she *hasn't* ever considered the possibilities. "Huh... I guess... there's nothing that *disproves* it, exactly," Umie ponders. "It was easy for me to assume they've just always been there, influencing things. So you're thinking..."

Her gaze travels out towards the lone window, half covered by the bouquet of white roses.

The beginnings of snow travel down in light trails, beginning to coat the branches of the trees outside.

"By first snow..."

".... It's possible," she concedes, again, as if trying to wrap her mind around it, but finding herself unable to.

As possible as the reality of all the foster children left to age out in foster homes, looked at as a drain on society.

Like small dots in the giant monster of society, forced to walk a labyrinthian maze.

Or dots of frozen ice against an eldritch being, an idle, passing fancy.

"It'd have to be something born from us though, right? It can't be a true god, even in the kami sense."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
Has one considered that he's partially enamored with Sherlock Holmes because- and this is true, Sherlock Holmes was kind of an asshole? As are many of the Detective archetypes.

But indeed, it is true, that originally he believed that his Persona should embody a certain kind of Justice than that.

Children however are wont to believe in fantasies that can never come true.

"Well you can be one now for your 'beau' if you'd like." He says with a sense of wryness, when it comes to the Ryouhara. "But, that is certainly true. It is not even that there is an absentee 'ideal' ruling figure. It might in fact be that none exists at all- and because of that, corruption is rife amidst the elite and powerful."

He has thought a lot about comparisons of his mindset to that of why Robin Hood, how it marks his beliefs.

"Do you truly think it's so strange?" He says, as he keeps his arms crossed, "What of the Evoker? Such things are man made. And in this new information age where social media is on the rise- what better way to represent the 'interconnectedness' of the Metaverse. Mementos... the so-called 'Palace of Everyone's Hearts.' connects one, as social media might."

There's a chuckle at the idea of updates, ads. "Well. I doubt it would be so blatant. However- I do not believe the Metaverse Navigator is manmade at all. I believe it simply manifests upon cell phones as being representative of some aspect of the human condition."

Akechi then nods- and- holds out a hand. "Unlock your phone and hand it to me. I promise- I won't be searching your texts or mail. I just wish to show you something." He then takes out his very much locked cell phone. "Let us just say this is yours, currently. I have gifted it to you temporarily."

Should Umie comply, he taps the phone, then holds it up to show the Metaverse Navigator on her phone. "Because it's in my possession cognitively, the Metaverse Navigator is present." He then tosses it back to her on the bed. "Now, I'll be taking my phone back."

And as he does so, he indicates to her. "Now look for the Metaverse Navigator." And should Umie do so, it's gone, as if it were never there to begin with.

"It's not some magic trick. I believe it is literally a product of human cognition."

There's another small chuckle at the 'Will of Justice'. "Would one not call a 'Will of Rebellion' a 'Will of Justice'- if one is rebelling against injustice?" Akechi asks her pointedly. "Nevertheless, that is what I'm quite certain it is called."

And when she asks about how, "I heard it from my Persona, when I awakened." Akechi says quite simply, "It is the only time it has spoken to me. I suppose it's possible it was mistaken, or lying- but- for what reason would a Persona have to lie to me?"

Would even Akechi's own Persona lie to himself? Well... some questions are better not dwelled upon.

"Indeed so- if corruption is the law of the land, then is not rebellion Justice itself?" Is his simple answer to that idea, before then nodding again, "Tricksters are quite dangerous, in a sense. Many defy the will of the gods. Some are rebellious gods themselves who teach humility to their brethren. Either way- I wouldn't know if I had a 'patron' who is a Trickster. Or whether there is one at all..."

He shrugs yet again, "Unlike the dearly departed Sudou-san." He says drily, for calling him the dearly departed, "There has yet to be anyone who has spoken of an encounter with such an entity. ... Whereas Nyarlathotep has had his existence confirmed by a number of beings."

When Umie says she hasn't considered the prospect, he nods, "It's understandable you didn't. After all- neither of us has witnessed such a grand manifestation of a rumor. To 'create' an entire para-military organization. However, while there's no way to confirm it- I can't quite discount it either. There are too many strange elements about the New World Order that don't quite fit otherwise..."

Umie does concede it's possible, and he considers the prospect of whether it could be a true god, or one created from us. "I don't think- barring new concrete evidence there's any easy answer to that. What makes a 'true god' a 'true god'? What makes a god created by men? It soon enough becomes a 'Chicken or Egg' dilemma... which means we'd only be running about in circles."

Scootching to adjust his position some, he leans forward, "Now if you'd like, we can give it a try all the same. But I'll have you know- I would never associate with any girl who lays eggs."

He smirks, knowing it's a bad joke, but that she's likely to get it. After all, if man made the god themselves, then they'd have 'laid the egg'.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'Well you can be one now for your 'beau' if you'd like.'

---A WEEK OR SO FROM NOW---

Shiryuu slips out a knife, debating whether or not to plunge it in the back or chin of the person he sees as someone who has come, as she did with Hodai and others, to bring 'ruin' to his family.

No, not Ruin, but Umie Akabane, hohoho.

---NOW---

"I don't think he's going to appreciate it," Umie groans. "Besides, I think Amamiya-kun wore the dress better... though..." She hums. "I wouldn't have called 'Ran' a damsel in distress. More like a damsel *of* distress." A pause. "A damsel of 'this dress'."

You can leave at any time, Akechi. Umie has no ability to stop you, as she is now, as well as properly satiated with food.

"Double duty... having to be King Richard and Robin Hood all on your own..." she tsks with a teasing air. "What a busy life, to be a Goro Akechi. But..." she continues, gesturing lightly with her unslung hand, "That *is* a part of it, maybe. Maybe not what I meant by my joke, but it seems a Will of Rebellion is about embodying a double identity on top of it. There's plenty of rebellion to go around, from all sorts of Persona Users, but to be an rebel, Robin from Locksley has to shed his identity and become Robin Hood. The cognitive trick to it is far beyond anything I could do, either; my masks barely work beyond certain parameters." In order to survive, she had to know others, and have others know who she is, but also... a literal barrier it presents between herself and the Eldtritch Other, even if it is as flimsy as a child's belief in a fantasy that can never come true.

"You, meanwhile, just took pity on me, despite my lousy evidence." 'And revealed yourself' is the rest of that sentence.

'Do you truly think it's so strange?' "... Huh. That *is* true." Of course. Whether a phone, or a strange gun, it's still technology, much newer than a mirror. "There are people who've seemed to discover a similar mechanism, even," she continues. "While the Evoker is special, it seems to be tied with the Dark Hour, and the concept of dying. So, your theory is... the phones have the app because it's reflecting Mementos in a way, like how it itself reflects a 'Palace of Everyone's Hearts'." She considers, her eyelids slipping down halfway as she directs her gaze towards her lap.

But who's to say that Kurou is in a class all his own, having had to recover

"It'd explain a lot, if it was true." Still, when Akechi offers, it sparks a glint of curiosity in Umie's eyes. She carefully offers out her red phone, and accepts Akechi's. "Now let's see," she begins to tease--

Well, *that* was quick. "Holy cow," she squeaks, eyes wide in a raw glimpse of wonder. She then coughs, offering a dramatic sigh as her phone's tossed back.

"Alas, you did the bare minimum and had it locked." Umie says, as she offers his phone back. Probably was a burner phone, besides, but did it really have to look newer than hers...?

To rebel against injustice... "Maybe if I hadn't blacked out, I could've been a proper Mask-san," she jokes. "But I guess, in terms of injustice..." The Order did do her an injustice, yet it took Akechi to ask her before she seriously considered taking them down, rather than simply glare incompetently across that gulf of power.

Is she still there...?

Her gaze grows beyond Akechi, in that moment, as she considers what is the thing she considers being the biggest injustice.

A pause, a moment of consideration, before she lets out a performative sigh, closing one eye. "Alas, I just have a powerful manifestation of my true self that I can call on when I need to, as well as know when I'm able to. Oh no."

Just like Akechi was able to hear the voice of his Persona when he first woke up, and remember it. What voice would Badb have...?

They are all, in many ways, built on the whims of Tricksters.

"I can't help there, either. Besides, for all I know, I could've gotten an understudy," Umie comments wryily, on the topic of Nyarlathotep.

As for the NWO, yet again... "I arrived in Sumaru City about a decade back, but I suppose, even if I experienced a Sumaru City without the Order, I'd might not remember it. When did you, Akechi-kun?" Though, they'd likely both be too young to really be aware, or care about it.

"Maybe... it's like the historical rumors. The rumors about a ninja princess isn't too dissimilar to the ones of... what was it..." She tries to remember. "Tatsuosuke Suou, Junnosuke Kuroda, and Maihime," pause "Amano."

Like something trying to manifest a thing that shouldn't be.

She would be scared, but, with Akechi, she feels less scared and more like it's simply a mystery to plunder for secrets. "It's like a locked door, but... any lock can be broken or surpassed eventually."

Only, there'd be another door at the other end, and another, after that.

A girl... who lays eggs?

Umie cackles.

"Don't look at me, I just open unsuspecting boxes." She smirks. "Only the finest, gifted to me by the gods~ You should really try it out sometime; sometimes you find hope at the bottom."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"You might be surprised at the effect of a Princess dress on a man." Akechi says with a wry note of humor, "And please, Umemura-chan is definitely a damsel of transgress."

He quips, both rhyming and punning, terrible.

"Ha." He says with a grin, "I wouldn't say I aspire to ''rule'', Akabane-san... much less to be some ideal of Just rule."

That much is true at least. He would never want to merely take Shido's place, or to become the worst of all things, which is synonymous with Shido- a politician.

"Hm. Yes, I do suppose that is true. I can't say I understand how precisely it works." He says, lying through his teeth, "My being a celebrity I do believe weakened my protection over time. Granted, I didn't go to any great pains to conceal my identity either. I have no reason to."

After all, people do believe he's on the right side of the law.

"It is almost certainly a trick of cognition, that much is true. When I first awakened- if someone witnessed me with my 'Mask' on- if I left the room, and transformed back- they would not even suspect it was me."

He does give her a smug look because the fact is that- "Well I'd say you earned the pity. After all. A half-dozen people who were beside you the day you witnessed me take that form for the first time- had seen right through it."

Ouch. Way to rub it in.

"In essence, yes, that's it exactly. I can't confirm that certainly, as I don't know where the Navigator comes from."

He is certain it must come from ''someone'' though, despite it being a product of cognition. In fact, he knows who it comes from precisely.

It's just he can't say that he does.

"Haha... were you hoping to sift through my fanmail?" He quips, not telling Umie that indeed it's his real phone, and if only she could crack the code, she'd have all the evidence she needs to figuring out he's Ruin- eventually, if she followed the trail within.

Alas.

At the same time though, it rather sells he's not got anything sinister on that phone if he's just willing to throw it to someone, right?

"Perhaps." He says to the idea she could become a 'Mask'. "It is after all, only a guess. For all I know, there's another qualification that I'm not aware of."

And he suspects the same. Umie was never out for 'justice' or 'vengeance' in a sense, when they first met. Not in the same sense as Akechi.

But he's not about to say so.

Instead, he chuckles at her statement of an understudy. "Well if you want to out yourself as a Theater Kid in that way..."

Then, Goro Akechi considers the prospect of when he arrived, before eventually deciding upon, "Nine years ago. And the disturbing question is. Even if there were a Sumaru City before the Order... would anyone even remember it?"

He places a hand upon his chin, "Even historians are forgetting that Sumaru City used to have a very different historical record. Without a care about whether the new history is real- or counterfeit. After all, why would they have any reason to deny the reality before their eyes?"

He does nod slowly at the idea of the connection to the Sumaru legend, "Yes, I would argue that it was specifically crafted to slot nicely into the tale... it is too- 'tidy'- I'd say."

A locked door?

"My, how larcenous of you." He grins, at the idea of it being broken or surpassed eventually, "And what do you think would be found behind this door?"

Then Umie relates herself to-

There's a flicker of, something in Akechi's eyes- something inscrutable. "Hope and butterflies..." He says, quietly, to himself, to the idea of Pandora, trailing off as if he were lost in thought.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Ran Umemura, trans-gress---

"Iiii think that's up to Amamiya-kun," Umie says, with a wry grin. "But I guess you really can't help yourself, can you~"

However, in here, a rebel gifts a captive forbidden goods, and inflects his Justice on her.

(Or... would it be more fair to say he's 'infecting' her?)

"Then why is the outfit a band major? Everyone knows they're a few steps away." Her teasing lightens. "Joking aside, I don't see you as that type. You're.... more the type to put things in motion."

Like rumors.

'I have no reason to.' That, Umie seems to react to, giving Akechi a pensive frown. "... Even with the Order?" She thinks on it, offering her own answer, free of Akechi needing to provide any himself. "...Then again... It's harder, when you're by yourself. I got along easily enough because the Dark Hour is a different beast compared to Mementos. At some point, we both had to look outward, even if we both prefer working on own terms."

She had years, but Mementos threw so much of it back at her and forced her to reconsider the boundaries of these different realities, just like Tartarus did.

That confidence can only go so far before she's merely acting.

Ouch. Umie sighs. "Shame on me for trying to keep an open mind," she says, rolling with Akechi's punch. "It just seemed... too obvious?"

She *is* winking there.

So much of this is a pantomime of what they know and don't, secret identities hidden within secret identities. Knowledge hidden in plain sight, with Umie nonethewiser, as it passes from her hand to Akechi's.

After all, who would believe that the same person who landed Umie in this hospital is the same one chatting with her? Umie wouldn't. To consider that possibility would mean seeing an enemy in every friendly face, and to distrust even your own gut instinct.

Just like, to access the idea of what injustice was done to Umie, it means facing who is at the helm of it all, and just how intertwined Nyarlathotep became in her life, without the entity really having to lift a finger beyond the initial push or three.

"I've never heard of anyone Awakening a second time, so." It wasn't the Order, but Nyarlathotep. "How can someone get *more* awake?"

"Imagine all the juicy gossip hidden within..." The blonde shakes her head. "A forbidden garden of secrets, and secret admirers. I'll regret giving this phone up so readily..."

She jokes.

"Please, I've had to be the perfect daughter for most of my life. That has to count for something." She lets her head hit her pillow with an audible 'paff'. "Just like you have to pretend to be the relatable boy detective next door, always available to all your fans."

Nine years ago. "So... not too long after I did, really." What caused him to come here, assuming he was part of the same orphanage as Akihiko and Shinjiro? Was he adopted?

Something in Umie's gut disagrees with the possibility, despite the lack of solid evidence. There is a strange thirst to him, sometimes--

` .... But she dismisses it, like so many other things.

"I wonder if there's records outside of Sumaru City that could give clues. The Order can't destroy *everything*, and rumors don't seem to travel outside of the city," Umie ponders. "Then again, what would a person do with that knowledge? Seems like a great way to make yourself a target, too..."

But it's still a Door, and doors must be opened, eventually.

Even the ones that will hurt the most. "Listen," Umie laughs, "The Dark Hour gives you a lot of time to look at closed doors. It's natural that you'll want to open them, right? Even if there's nothing on the other side."

Hope... and butterflies. "...." She observes that look in Akechi's gaze for a fair moment, the sound of the hospital machines working away.

"Akechi-kun," Umie says, as another moment passes by, as she looks at him from her propped up pillow. "... What's on your mind."

It's a gentle prodding; for once, she doesn't supply the possibilities herself.

Ren's been a terrible influence.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
"If I can, know that I need immediate medical attention." He quips, regarding being unable to help himself, before snorting at the idea of a band major, "It's not like I designed it, so I can only speculate. It likely has to do with Princely archetypes in the Shoujo of the seventies."

Which is, way before Akechi's time. Still he doesn't clarify how he knows them. "Many designs were along those lines."

He leans back, crossing his arms anew, "''Especially'' with the Order. For starters- I'm a Celebrity, so they'll be hesitant to kill someone so high profile, but even if that doesn't stop them..."

He makes eye contact with Umie, "... it only leaves them further opportunities to create new evidence, in solving the case. I for one say that you ought never to deter your enemy from making a mistake."

He's certainly confident, isn't he?

He chuckles at the idea it was too obvious, grinning at her wink, before she indicates-

"Ah, if you mean in the sense that you could become one now? I have no idea whatsoever."

He shrugs, lifting up both of his hands in an exaggerated gesticulation, "It might require that qualification during your first such awakening, or it might not. Who can say? How would one even test it?"

'relatable boy detective next door'

He smirks yet again, "If that were true, I would have sent out on social media that I was visiting you at the hospital." He jests, in regards to always being available to his fans. "But you do have a point."

Another nod, at it being not too long after she did, "Roughly the same time, yes. And I can't precisely know the circumstances of Sumaru City before that point- I wasn't exactly supernaturally aware, back then."

When Umie indicates that surely the Order can't destroy 'everything'- Akechi prompts her, "Check your phone. Search online for history of Sumaru City, see what you find."

And when she starts, he adds, "It's quite possible some record still exists- but if it does, I have not yet found it. Older editions in libraries and bookstores are gone, now replaced with more 'updated' versions. And Sumaru City is hardly noteworthy enough for textbooks to cover it in depth. No... one must check more niche history volumes."

However, when she asks him about what's on his mind, and he lowers his hand, and looks up. "Ah- the reference to Pandora merely made me think of something I read once regarding an unrelated incident, pay it no mind."

He finally straightens back up and asks, "So, do you have a time frame on when they think you'll be discharged? And do you need someone to pick you up?"

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'It likely has to do with Princely archetypes in the Shoujo of the seventies.' "And why your dashing rival looks like he's wearing victorian clothing," Umie prods back, with a smirk. "It matches well; a cognitive shorthand to indicate what an older Persona may not show in itself. But then again, with the Tengu mask..." And it makes sense, why Akechi would know, in Umie's mind. After all, she didn't know about a Badb. "Which makes me wonder... will these outfits change as a Mask-san gets older? It's interesting to consider."

Someone so high profile...

"It wouldn't be beyond them to knock someone down a peg or two," she murmurs. Her eyelashes lower halfway, as she considers Akechi right back. "There's more than one way to get something done. Scaring away your clients, or... making it so that you get associated with boring, mind-numbing cases. Opportunities to improve becoming pruned away, until you realize there's just a stump of your former life." She can't be too angry-- university just was what was the accepted trajectory.

'I for one say that you ought never to deter your enemy from making a mistake.' "My, my, I admire your confidence," she teases. "I'll have to remember that advice for next time."

The idea that someone could become something different? "Yeah. Who's to say what mysteries the human condition can hold?"

She pauses on it, for just a second. But not a moment more.

Whether it was having a Mark that attracted Nyarlathotep, or if Nyarlathotep wanted a Mark to happen, it's a space she's used to. If she was going to die of it, or transform into a distorted god, or whatever the hell would happen, it would have happened already.

It's just a pretty idea, and pretty ideas are as flimsy as the princes in shoujo manga, or hope and butterflies.

"I'm glad you didn't. It'd ruin our chat." She considers. "I wish there was more I could tell you about the cognitive space I and a few friends found ourselves in, but it may that you'll have to investigate yourself."

Ah, right, he'd be here for that, wouldn't he? She got so caught up in simply talking (and eating, let's be real) that she failed to give him anything of substance.

"All this chatting and I never gave you something for your trouble, eh? What a terrible confidant I am... But being shot..."

'I wasn't exactly supernaturally aware, back then.' "... Neither was I," Umie admits, with a wince. "Even after Awakening."

Looking back at her phone, Umie begins to tap on it, and frowns. "Just a cursory search, but... I'm not even sure *how* to search for it, now that I think about it." Her right hand begins to cramp up before she has a chance to type further, so she sets the phone back down. "Point taken, though. It's been long enough. Even something unrelated like the Dark Hour feels like it's been there forever, rather than something man-made."

But what's on Akechi's mind, specifically?

An unrelated incident, huh. "Which one," Umie says, with a subdued cackle. "Demons can tell you some pretty interesting things, you know."

Demons do, but they weren't the ones to tell her about what happened at Tamaki's former school, or St. Hermelin.

With her next breath, Umie's tone turns to a solemn whisper. "Be careful with that knowledge, whatever it is, Akechi-kun. I'd hate to see you disappear, you know?"

Finally, as Akechi straightens up, Umie's expression lightens, as if she said nothing at all. "I just have to promise my doc that I won't go lifting weights with my left arm or whatever," she says, closing one eye. "I'm certain they won't be able to keep me more than another day, at most, but with the way I came in, they've been dragging their heels."

She shrugs. "And most of *that* was just not having Badb with me when I got out of that zone next to the hospital. Blood thinners aren't fun."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
While he doesn't say too much about the archetype of his rival, there's another shrug at whether his costume might change, "I'm not actually certain. Mine hasn't, in three years- and I'm a very different person from who I was in middle school."

Or so he says. There are differences though- the differences between a civilian with rough edges, and a serial killer.

"Yes I do suppose it is ''possible''- that they could do that, especially if I were a normal detective." Akechi agrees, "But I doubt it. The New World Order wields a hammer, and looks at every problem like a nail."

Every Persona User, he might have said.

"So I'm not exactly shaking with terror here. Even should they send that 'one in the Black Mask' at me- he still requires the supernatural. I would be alerted that something is wrong before he had the chance to strike."

And after a moment, he adds- "We have had run ins before. In fact, I believe I mentioned to you once that he shot me."

Indeed... what mysteries the human condition can hold?

"Boundless." He says immediately, "Though that's not to say that they don't abide by a certain logic. After all-"

He reaches into a pocket, and pulls out...

His ray gun!

"-This is merely a model, obviously. If I pull the trigger." Which he does, while it's pointed at the ceiling. "Nothing happens. In the Metaverse however, the Collective Unconscious has a certain acceptance of the idea of 'laser pistols' from media."

That's not to say anyone taking a laser pistol in could do the same thing he does though! There's a certain trick to it, and one he's not like to give away soon.

"Well... for the Dark Hour at least, if you go on Dark Side of Sumaru, Persona Users can at least give a rough timeline of when it first manifested. Though accounts are- confusing."

He admits, "It isn't the same for the history of Sumaru City. After all- most people are under the impression, these are real findings, not the product of rumors. Why would they have reason to think rumors could work on such a grand scale?"

Umie though, asks on the specifics of which one, and he huffs out an amused breath, "Heh." Before he quips, "A certain incident at a box factory." He says, unseriously, "I hear all the woes of mankind were released- it's the origin story of your ex-fiance."

He then leans backwards, crossing his arms, "Oh I have no intention of going anywhere, Akabane-san. After all, what would you do without my sunny disposition as a part of your life?"

A beat.

"Still, I'll be careful." He promises, before she talks about her discharge, "Hm, well, understandable. After all, they do have to report all gunshot wounds to the police. ... On that note, what did you tell them?"

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Hm. Then maybe not." Akechi would have to be the one who has been a 'Mask-san' the longest, though Vesper could have been at it for longer. It counts for something, especially when his life would have been far more turbulent than Umie's.

(She had it in her head that Akechi Awakened much later, but still, it may have been a matter of what questions she had asked, and what facts she got mixed together. That could have been when he had found Mementos. So many things to keep aware of!)

Does he say those things with real confidence, or is it just a front, like she often tries to project? "... A bullet can undo a lot of things, Akechi-kun..." At least, by the point, her concern for Akechi is well-established. But what would she say, if she knew the entirety of who Goro Akechi is?

Her trailing off is rebutted with Akechi's reminder of his own run-in with Black Mask.

"Aha, that's right. I guess we have one more then in common now, huh?" Umie chuckles. "I'm honestly half expecting him to come walking up the next Dark Hour, but I suppose... he may be stuck in that dimension still."

With her gaze turned away by this point, it's hard to wager what she feels. Is Joker stuck there as well?

"I doubt that'd be enough, to slow him down," she murmurs, softly. "I'm not sure I can forget what it felt like, to have that gun pointed at me. What was I thinking, going after a man's heart..."

Her chin dips, her eyes narrowing. "Sometimes I question what sort of person I am in those moments. It's ridiculous, to taunt someone so powerful, but it felt like the only way to regain control of the situation." Because he was taunting her. She knows that.

Akechi doesn't need to know that, she thinks. He would have never done something so reckless.

Looking up towards Akechi's ray gun--

--she smiles, and then laughs. "I remember when you brought that out in that one Palace. I don't know why, but at the time, it felt comforting."

"I don't think if I tried it it'd work as well, though," Umie supposes. "The way you hold it with confidence..."

Maybe she's reading into it too much.

Between the Dark Hour, and Sumaru City... "And even Sumaru City's reputation as being a weird city where weird things happen doesn't help. It's easy to end every sentence with 'because that's just how Sumaru is'." It would be interesting to see if she can search that far, with the Dark Side forum, on that note.... "You think... maybe there's something there about the Order, too. If it's happened within the establishing of the forums, maybe..."

'it's the origin story of your ex-fiance.' Umie makes a show of an appropriately flat face as she walks into that joke, but not too long after, she cackles. "So *that's* why the man's so boring to talk to. He's made of card-board."

YOU CAN LEAVE AT ANY TIME AKECHI, THE DOOR IS OPEN

What would she do?

"It would be a grey world indeed," Umie says to that, with a fond smile. "My blood pressure'd be a lot better though, you know...?"

That's called a callback.

As for her discharge, and what was reported, Umie herself just shrugs. "No clue. I wasn't in the mood to say much of anything at the time. I imagine the ship suddenly appearing on the hospital meant a lot of things got pushed to the side."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Goro Akechi has posed.
<poem>
His expression sobers as she indicates a bullet can undo a lot of things, "You're absolutely right, but don't you think you're preaching to the choir? After all... I investigate a lot of murders. However, if it puts your mind more at ease..."

He taps his brief case. "I'm licensed to carry a firearm for my work, and I can confidently say that I can outshoot any police officer in this country, given how little practice their training allows each year." He locks eyes with Umie, "And that isn't an exaggeration."

There's not even a hint of that braggadocio in his voice this time, it's so... so matter of fact.

However, the 'police officer' was chosen because it was specifically relevant to Sumaru City- and they both know why.

"Indeed we do." He does finally chuckle, "What an unusual turn of events..." A beat, "I wouldn't count on him being stuck in there. He's been traveling the Metaverse for longer than any of us have even been awakened."

He looks troubled, on the idea that she might actively be traumatized by the event, but- isn't that the obvious? Most of his targets don't live long after, and those that do, are all traumatized.

Every psychotic breakdown he creates ruins so many lives.

"I have... a few tricks up my sleeve. While I won't say that I could stop him, I do think I could sufficiently surprise him to get away." He finally allows, rather than address her hurt.

How could he? He doesn't have the right.

"We do what we have to." Is all he eventually says, of the idea of taunting him. "To survive. Sometimes what you couldn't believe you did in the moment is what needed to be done in the moment."

Indeed... it bought Umie long enough time for intervention, so could it not be said it saved her life in some sense?

"I don't think it says anything ill about you, specifically. Though I understand why you might take the time after for... self-reflection."

Eventually he slips the Ray Gun away at her words, "It's a powerful image, I suppose. Someone brandishing it in a certain pose. The 'cavalry' has arrived, so to speak. I'm glad it gave you comfort."

But... he can never really be the hero, or heroic. That is not who he is, nor will it ever be. He has made his choice.

For the sake of his Justice.

"... But, I don't know. Perhaps try it on for size one day, you may find it to be surprisingly enjoyable."

Though he doesn't say he'll teach her that trick of course. Nope. Part of the fun is somebody else figuring it out for themselves!!!

"Perhaps." He says on the Dark Side of Sumaru, "If so, it's buried so far that even I haven't found it. The internet has developed so much in ten years."

There's a chuckle at her laughter, before he says, with a grin, "Ah, so he's not a woe, but the box itself. That does explain so very much."

Though, when she says it was pushed back, he looks troubled, then places a hand on his chin. Pausing. Then eventually stands up.

"I don't believe in coincidences like that. While it might in fact be nothing, the moment they're arranging you for discharge, I recommend you have your boyfriend on standby to take you out through an exit they don't expect."

He stands up, and takes out his phone, "I'm going to go poke around to make certain it's in fact nothing." Tapping on it, he begins to leave the room, "I'll talk to you soon, focus on getting well and getting out of here for now."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>
If Umie could only fold her arms right now, she would!! "You got a point there. You and Katsuya-san have an advantage there that I don't, unless I want to risk something *else* screwing up." Though, Katsuya...

... She briefly makes a face, as she makes the connection to Akechi's choice of words. The Order is likely going to punish Katsuya soon, no doubt.

She'll file that away for later.

"I'll take your word for it. Cognition can't smooth over a shaky hand." Anymore than Umie's strikes can fake the level of prowess that Kurou's similar weaponry has, when it comes to going in for a kill.

As for Ruin... "Yeah. If we could get out, no doubt he can." And Joker... will he be okay?

A unusual turn of events, indeed.

As for trauma... Umie tilts her chin at Akechi's gesture of confidence in his future encounters with the assassin, taking in a breath.

"... That's likely the key, the same as always." While Akechi doesn't address her hurt, the logic seems to circumvent it entirely. "You've probably had to do the same, I imagine. Not just to survive, but for the sake of your Justice."

Look at how far Akechi's come, that Umie is willing to say that with a straight face, even some admiration.

Determination and control will always be something Umie finds admirable, as long as it's not being applied to subjugating her, after all.

As for the cavalry? "I suppose," Umie concedes, at the imagery. "In the moment, it just made me realize a little bit more about you as a person. You might've just gotten it at a toy store someplace, but it was still a choice you made, despite having the 'real' thing in your briefcase."

Pause. "..... then again that'd be really bad if forensics came in and identified what bullet was used, sooo."

She should try it, sometime.

"What, getting a laser gun? And steal *your* schtick? God forbid." She laughs, and ponders on it, red brown eyes narrowed into merry slits. "Maybe I'll make some origami stars and see if they act like real ninja stars. *That* could be fun."

She'll have to take another look at the Dark Side boards again, it seems, on another note.

AND ON ANOTHER NOTE, "The pun was sitting right there! I had to," she laughs.

Akechi's urgency, however, is finally realized for what it is.

"Uh--" Her eyes widen. OH. POLICE. SUMARU POLICE.

"Yeaaahhh, you go do that. I'll pass a note to my boyfriend--" hee hee she has a boyfriend and he's acknowledging it, hee hee "--or something." As he gets out his phone, she wiggles her fingers at him. "You need to get going anyway. I can't justify keeping you any longer. Except--"

She dips her head, once.

"Thanks, Akechi-kun. I can always count on you."
</poem>

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-08-02: A Bond for Two

2026-08-09T02:52:42Z

Tanyuu:

*'''Log: A Bond for Two'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Shiryuu Ryouhara]], [[Umie Akabane]]
*'''Where:''' Electric Town, Akihabara, Tokyo
*'''OOC Date:''' August 02, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 19, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''A recent rumor about an ancient ninja princess has unearthed the Ryouharas' existence. Shiryuu wants answers, and, with Umie being newly tied to his family's bloodline, he's determined to get them, even if it breaks his heart. Now, if only Umie would act like a proper hostage...''

----
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> "Oh. Ah. I'm sorry," the tiny, mousy girl apologizes to Umie. "I don't usually do this kind of thing, and I could use your help...? I need to find ... ah, Cat Street? I'm supposed to be meeting a friend, there. And -- oh, I guess you should really look out for what's behind you, ne?"

'I guess there's no delaying it any longer,' he'd thought, shortly after Korozen had taken Kurou back to the apartment. Or rather, back to gridlock -- Korozen had carefully timed the trip to be caught in some small amount of evening traffic. Nothing so telling so as to let Kurou know anything, but there was a task to accomplish, right?

'After, bring her to me,' the shihaisha had said, and Korozen was obliged to comply, as a neutral party to the matter. Of course, the shihaisha is cruel.

'Korozen. If she's hurt, I'll scatter your bones across the moon.'

Ah, Shirogarasu is so dramatic, sometimes. But he bows in acquiescence anyway. It's nothing a distraction and a rag soaked in isoflurane can't solve. Or at the least, such is how Korozen's decided to phrase it to Shikon and Asagi. Shikon, of course, was very, very excited about the prospect of meeting this mysterious new ninja princess Akabane that's gotten the eye of the head of the clan. Unfortunately, she's not as good a decoy as Asagi. Oh well. On with the show! And probably a black bag!

Umie would be summarily decoyed, drugged and kidnapped wholesale, stuffed unceremoniouly into the back of a waiting K-truck loaded up with a crate labelled 'VOLATILE - KEEP WARM.' It's probably not necessary to smuggle her in on a laundry cart to the Hotel Indigo, but it'll make things an awful lot smoother. They can't afford her being awake enough to start fighting. If they have to fight her, it's definitely going to be a problem for the mission parameters.

So. The likelihood of Umie being tied up and being carried in with the unmentionables is high. Ideally, she'll end up in his room black bagged and tied snugly to a chair. "SHE'S SO PRETTY," Shikon just about yells at Shiryuu the moment the door is closed. "You _know_ what Ai-pyon is going to say if she sees her!!"

"...take off that bag and get out," Shiryuu says, looking out the window grimly. Absent a clear view of his mien pressed tight, his black outfit does a whole lot of the heavy lifting in portraying exactly how entirely, deeply unimpressed he is by the whole situation from the back to the front. It's a kidnapping, not a marriage proposal..
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Mm?" Umie, having come off her shift at Le Chat Marron, looks over at the tiny(ier than her, even!) mousy girl. "Yeah, just go down--"

The way to sneak up on someone who, in another set of circumstances, could be difficult to sneak up on, is simple: You just need to catch her outside of an area where she can use her Persona, and even if she was in such a space, all you need is to not have a resonance.

These are the perils of not being a full-fledged anti-navigator.

To be fair to Umie, the moment the mousy points out the need to look behind her, the blonde acted... completely normally, because she was technically in a public place, albiet briefly out of view of any people that would complicate Operation Kidnap Girlfriend.

Which is why...

----

... They were right to be careful; that label of 'VOLATILE' would be put to good use if Umie happened to wake up.

And indeed, there is a certain beauty to that seemingly peaceful look on Umie's face, as she's secured. (You'll just have to ignore the bit of drool.)

"... Mmmn.... mnh...." Umie stirs restlessly, as the effects of the isoflurane begin to wear off. Like a pet cat coming home from the vet, she'll begin moving in her chair, that heavy head wobbling around as she has trouble understanding exactly why she can't get up.

It'll only escalate from there; Umie has no special abilities to recover any faster than any normal person, but she makes up for it in pure obstinance.

And maybe a bit of sick from the isoflurane, which she seems to just not care about as she tries to figure out why the chair is not letting her get up.

Hm. Where was she again? Why'd she fall asleep? What was she doing?

What time is it? Where is she?
Why's her head heavy?

Screw this chair. This chair is annoying.

"The'snext train's leaving.... fonna mess it..."

She's not noticed Shiryuu there yet, but she's definitely getting riled up.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> He is at the very least patient.

The room is only dimly lit, the natural overhead lights dimmed as tiny neon beams crawl across the walls, ceiling and floor. The source being that sole lamp, propped up not too far from his laptop. It's been opened, and there's a little web graphic: A crude rendition of the three leaves symbol of the Ryouhara, shamefully replicated by what must have been a four year old with the wrong kind of shareware access to a paint app. Above it, in thick Impact font: SECRET WARLORD PRINCESS? HIDDEN FAMILY'S SCANDAL!

Shiryuu's pointedly ignoring it. Instead, the on-and-off drizzling of the rain outside is taking up the whole of his attention, being the only audible sound in the sprawling and sparse room. It's still stripped bare, but the little table is still present, just moved to an extreme end of the room, with the chairs conspicuously missing.

The one Umie's currently tied to was stolen from the lounge. It's only mildly comfortable, and only because Shikon insisted on picking out 'just the right one for Blonde-pyon's butt,' while Asagi fretted about the isoflurane wearing off too soon. Don't these supralunar people have super resistance power like that??

A tiny snif, as Shiryuu's head drops, low and to the side, as if inclined to look at Umie as she stirs, but never following through with it.

"You're drooling, Akabane..."
Despite not looking, his senses are far above par, comparably. Or his memory? This isn't the sort of question one should be thinking about when one is tied to a chair. Especially not with a pretty double column knot of soft blue cotton rope around your wrists.

(Asagi tied it, and Shikon is never going to let her forget it.)

His black gloves are sitting on the windowsill now, as both his hands are shoved into his pockets. He's still wearing quite a few layers of clothing in those shades of black, but he's comparably dressed down -- his back is still blazoned with the same symbol that's on the news post on his laptop, though the clarity of imagery is the same as the noonday sun to a candle. It's a loose type of house jacket, and the boy is still wearing an eyepatch, though most of his linen bindings have left with the accursed hospital.

"Hnn. Get ahold of yourself," he tells her, as if giving orders will make her recovery any quicker. "You're too tough to be drugged for that long."

It has nothing to do with the fact he itches to go get her a handkerchief. His eyes narrow in cold annoyance at the compulsion. It's more important that he stay focused.

"Listen up," he says, after a beat.

"It's important, this time. Not that you were intending on telling me about this anytime soon, I'm guessing."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> How could someone so small and petite be that affected by something like this?

Red brown irises make a serious attempt to focus on the thick Impact font and its words.

Secret warlord princess. Huh. That sounds... familiar...

Whatever else she would've thought is instead taken up by how heavy her head is feeling, right now.

'You're drooling, Akabane.'

"Some kind of weird idea of a date..." Umie mumbles, as she keeps moving.

She's rather persistant about it, too, jerking around and twisting her wrists around, refusing to quit from her chosen goal.
Or to ask for help, for that matter.

'You're too tough to be drugged for that long.'

"Get close enough n' I'll plant a foot straight up that nose of yers..." Umie, that doesn't even correlate to what Shiryuu was even talking about, what

She's frustrated, but she's not going to give Shiryuu the satisfaction of asking for help, or even acknowledge that the situation is out of the ordinary for him... well, in regards to her.

'It's important, this time.'
'Not that you were intending on telling me about this anytime soon, I'm guessing.'

Don't let him win, Umie. You're so close. Just twist your wrists like so and tense up, and then!! .... wait what--

"Hua-umph!" With a sudden rip, a flop, and a thud of a body, the chair becomes unoccupied.

However, the pretty knot of blue cotton fabric is holding firm, and this is not a supralunar zone. So what, exactly, is Umie doing?

She's inchworming her way towards Shiryuu now, with steely determination, and no question of what exactly she's going to do when she gets there.

Just that he needs to learn a lesson about casually kidnapping people he supposedly likes.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> Did she just threaten him?

"Alright, banchou Popeye..."

He surmises, perhaps correctly, that Umie is still drugged, and so ignores whatever she was saying she was going to do with her foot in such rowdy terms. The grey-haired shihaisha thinks, shaking his head at an idea that must have just occurred to him. Hands slide out of his pockets, as the shinobi folds his arms.

"It doesn't matter," Shiryuu thinks aloud.

A small clatter arises behind him, and the boy looks over his shoulder, arms still folded. A short, sharp chirp of alarm raises in the back of his throat as he sees the chair on the ground, Akabane getting (kind of) free in record time, which is infuriating enough that a silver sprig sticks straight up on Shiryuu's head as he flashes his teeth.

"_urrrhhhhh_" the shihaisha roars tinily at her, "Why are you bad at even being a good hostage!!"

It takes all of Shiryuu's will not to demand Umie get back in the chair at once. It would do no good.

She needs to learn a lesson about taking being kidnapped seriously.

Gathering his gloves, Ryouhara turns on a heel briskly, with a tiny sigh. "All of you are terrible at listening," he thinks, padding towards the offending blonde inchworm.

"It's like I said, I won't let you get away with any funny business this time," Shiryuu tells Umie in no uncertain terms. She might have the advantage right now if it came to Persona, but currently, the moon is a long ways away.

Shiryuu does peer at the suspiciously elaborate knotwork keeping his person's wrists tied together for a few seconds longer than is strictly necessary. She's very good at wiggling.

Focus, Shirogarasu.

"Anyway..."

Ryouhara is not going to put up with much more of this inchworming action -- he's going to stride alongside her nimbly, before leaning down and taking a seat. Right on the back of Akabane's thighs, to put a stop to the entire industry of whatever it is she thinks she's doing right now. The boy pulls his gloves back on slowly one at a time as he thinks on it.

"...you're going to aggravate your injuries," Shiryuu tells her, noncommittally and definitely not caring at all. It's just that.. "If I have to resort to enhanced interrogation to get at what I need to know, you need to be at your full strength or you'll perish."

"But..." Shiryuu points out, raising a finger where she can see exactly none of it. "If you give in easily, maybe I can just promise you safe passage to Shanghai, where you can start a new life and I won't have to destroy you utterly." He frowns about this.

"So question the first." Shiryuu rests his fist in his hand, elbows on his knees.

"What are your intentions towards the Ryouhara clan?" Stare. Flat, tight expression.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It seems that all Shiryuu is doing is activating whatever instincts are in the blonde to fiercely rebel against his authority, shining like a beam of light through that drugged fog.

"You don't *deserve* a good hostage!!" Umie grunts, as she inchworms over towards Shiryuu. "Violating my trust... you deserve every second of this!!" Unfortunately, the only thing that is being highlighted is that stubborn lack of future planning, just someone forcing a path open through every means they have.
.... even if that path's end is not one they have defined in their mind, as she wiggles fiercely. Wiggle wiggle wiggle.

There may be a satisfying 'eep' as Shiryuu's weight on the back of her thighs. It's not really a painful 'eep', however, as Umie's craning her head downward to hide the flush of red on her cheeks.

Focus, Umie. You can't let some simple bit of pressure make you cave in to... whatever this is about.

---ah, right, cave into 'being a proper hostage', thank you, Shiryuu.

'...you're going to aggravate your injuries.' "Oh, you care *now*?!"
'If I have to resort to enhanced interrogation to get at what I need to know, you need to be at your full strength or you'll perish.' "And I'll die of embarrassment, as everyone who told me 'this is really not smart' or 'he's dangerous' gets to shake their finger at me for following my heart instead of my mind!"
'If you give in easily, maybe I can just promise you safe passage to Shanghai, where you can start a new life and I won't have to destroy you utterly.' "If I was ever going to do that, I'm definitely not doing it now." Hooray, Shiryuu doesn't have to ship her to Shanghai!

She's just getting angrier. Shiryuu can feel it, underneath him.

'So question the first. What are your intentions towards the Ryouhara clan?'

Her attempts at wiggling stop.

".... You ask me that..."

It's like a tensing spring; Shiryuu can see the peek of that black Mark on the inside of her right wrist, where the sleeve was pulled back from her earlier struggles.

".... after I starred down a barrel trying to make sure you weren't assassinated..." She's trying to cock an eyebrow at Shiryuu, but while she can be flexible, she is hardly the sort of contortionist needed to perform this particular stunt. "Or did you really think I was trying to come on to _Ruin_, of all people?"

She sees a pair of tabi socks peek from under the hem of those red robes of little Maihime, the small girl bending down until her black hair pools around her own head.
Mocking, but also reminding her with little whispers of what she could do to reverse this.

Just use that Mark, and...

"My intention was to be the bond of a stubborn idiot," Umie says, instead. "Because that's the thing we have in common. How else could you explain it? We were trying to kill each other the first time we met."

"If it was all a lie, in the end," she murmurs, trying to remain conscious of Shiryuu's presence (rather than the sensation of little fingers tracing down her back), "it was a pleasant one."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> "_I_ told you I was dangerous."

Shiryuu's weight is warm and sure -- he has no trouble pinning her down with just enough and not too much. It's in the gentle pitch of his weight against his thighs to move his center of gravity just so; making sure he doesn't quite cut off the circulation in her legs, but just enough to keep her in one place.

The boy if nothing else has exquisite balance. He won't fall, no matter how hard she tries. He just has to let her wiggle herself out, not look, and not think about what Shikon or Asagi would say, and hopefully they're not -spying.-

Mm. Shiryuu would contemplate the wisdom of letting Korozen arrange for the one whose ninkou can hear through half the floor before interrogating his girlfriend. But the thought is dismissed as quickly as it appears.

It's not like that.. right?
Remember Shiryuu. You're just a mark...

His fingers roll -- one fist unravelling to nimbly interlace his gloved fingers together, the bridge resting just under his chin. It's strange -- the boy is customarily overdressed for the warmth of the room, with his outer jacket buttoned all the way up to the height of his neck. All those layers, and still his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, baring the length of his arms before the cuffs of his gloves.

Being under repairs, Juurishojin is absent. He is well aware of her ability, and the boy acidly watches her struggle with it. Unlike her, he has no mark. His supralunar power wasn't awakened by trauma, or disaster, or force, or conspiracy.

The only thing he has on his arms is a little tied bit of braiding about one wrist.

'Or did you really think I was trying to come on to _Ruin,_ of all people?' -- Shiryuu's expression tightens immediately, his eyes narrowing. The strike of his response, and the sudden spike of heat in his voice is telling. He wasn't thinking about it until she brought it up, just now. "Were you?"

Ugh... don't let her get to you. "...I guess it doesn't matter either."

He sets his jaw, and take a sharp breath. She said something about how everyone told her not to trust him, that she'll never give in. "You're just going to make it harder on yourself," Shiryuu shakes his head. "The loss of any of our family wounds me, but..."

He's about to say something else, when she says it was a lie.

"...no, it wasn't a lie," Shiryuu thinks, quietly.

The boy's touch chases new sensation along the small of her back, the walk of his fingertips along the line of Akabane's spine a precursor to the onmitsu telling himself he was taking the measure of her willingness to attack still -- whether he'd have to fight her, even now. His gloved hand raises from her, darkly.

"...but since that night ... maybe there's not enough of me left for anything like that," he thinks quietly, but is unwilling to explain any further.

... hrnm.

Shiryuu breathes, leaving her to her ruminating. It's up to him to put this on the right track. "Even weakened, it'd be foolish of me to take you at your word, when our bonds are by blood and not by our l..." .. he frowns.

"...second question."
He changes the subject.

"If you, like me, are descended from the main house, who's your handler? You'll have had a co-conspirator to be able to expose us to this degree."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Damn it, Umie. Why do you feel comfort in his presence still? His warmth?

"So's a speeding train," Umie murmurs. "So's a bullet. Yet I still..." Yet she still fell in love with him, and he with her. The danger could have helped, but what especially helped was the fact that there was nothing she had to hide from him about herself.

It was already known and labeled. The rest, she admitted, because of the grace he gave her.

.... And the warmth he held, when she let herself fall asleep against him.

Focus, Umie, don't let him win.

"Of course n--" '... i guess it doesn't matter either.' "..." The energy of Umie's body twists at that; those words hurt, in some way, even if Shiryuu can't see her face.

'You're just going to make it harder on yourself.' "Don't lie; you like that."
'The loss of any of our family wounds me, but...' "... eh?"

He... believes those rumors?

'No, it wasn't a lie,' he says.

Even if her brain tries to read Shiryuu's fingers as more of the same that plagued her, her body remembers them well, shivering at his touch.

'... maybe there's not enough of me left for anything like that.' "Is that what you tell yourself?" she says, quietly.

'Even if our bonds are by blood and not by our l...'

Much like she did in battle, that smallest opening is what Umie immediately sets on.

"I don't fall in love with ghosts, Shiryuu." It's easier to admit it, when it's not direct.

"... But I expected more out of you, than to fall to rumors. Is that all the Order needs to do, to get you back in line?"

Umie stills. "It's the only explanation. Even if you look, there'll be sudden records of it, even if there weren't any before. It's no different than rumors of fast running grannies or stores suddenly selling weaponry."

The price of anything becoming involved with her is ruin. Kurou could be in another room being accused of the same things, right now, and she'd have no way of knowing.

But, as she said to Akechi, isn't it better to resist, and at least give whatever is watching a good show?

Her fingers tighten. "I have no 'retainer', and there is no 'house'. I know who I am, and _I'm Umie Akabane_."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> 'You like that.' What does that even mean? Shiryuu almost lets his immediate thought slip, mouthing the words to himself incredulously, a white hot surge of -- something adjacent to annoyance -- flaring up in the back of his neck.

It's starting to get warm, he thinks, slighting his weight slightly on her. It's in rough comparison and contrast to her own energy, coiled like a viper.

"... I thought that it'd be fine."

Part of him is loathe to lift his hand, abandoning the soothing sensation of her warmth and scent, and it takes a long time for Shiryuu to decide if it's really what he wants to do. It's not -- but he lifts his hand anyway.

"No matter what happened to my spirit, or how much 'color' I lost. It would be fine, if you were safe," the boy admits coldly, each word successively more divorced of weakness and methodical, as if reason were his beacon. "If everyone were safe. Someone who protects everyone who stands behind him. That's what a 'shihaisha' is."

"But...it didn't change anything," he thinks, almost too quiet to hear, just before he's --

"Tch," his response is immediate when she suggests that the Order is at the root of it. "The unheld legacy of Megumi Ryouhara is not a -- fast granny --" he objects at once, speaking fast before managing to rein himself in, mid-sentence. His voice drops an octave.

"....I'm not someone you should lie to."

The seams of his gloves make the softest creak as his weight shifts across her thighs, as his palms meet. "I am the cold wind that rolls down Iizuna," he tells her, in no uncertain terms. "The purest blood of the noblest house, whose truth and right are legitimized both above and below the moon. I am the judgment that scatters the mists, and the cherished blade promised to the lost. I am the slayer of tyrants, the sword of Akita, the grey law of light, and the epitaph of our lost children. Lie to me, and see all deception punctured instantly."

"If anyone tries to bring my family to 'ruin...' even the shadow of Orihime's loom won't fall far enough for that person to escape my justice."

There is a harsh, unyielding energy in the grey-haired boy, stalking and restless and angry and wild. No matter how little he moves, she can feel it in the way she shifts alongside her, the way he responds slow and measured to her words, the wound-tight tension in every fiber of him. Motionless and heated, his restlessness is tied tight by a thread of relentless logic.

"The Ryouhara clan has used 'Kotodama' before," he tells her. "It is not a simple happenstance. It is not an 'oops.' It has a source. An actor, and an author. That is for reason and cause, neither of which 'they' have, knowing what is known -- they _don't_ want me to kill you. A kotodama that exposes us doesn't help that."

The idea dismissed out of hand, Shiryuu shakes his head.

"So, 'Umie Akabane.' Question the third, now that you know that your bones are the price for lying."

Slowly, he tilts his head back, and lets a smooth, unsteady breath roll out of his chest. His eye lids, his other hidden eye burning harshly will ill distrust. She said she doesn't fall in love with ghosts..

But if that's all he is...

"....was there ever even one time that you actually loved me?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> She hates the conflicting reactions of her body; Mai-chan is clearly taunting her by making it seem like Shiryuu is touching her.

'It would be fine, if you were safe.' "Did you ever ask yourself what would happen, if you died?"

The anger that coils up underneath Shiryuu seems to be just as feverish at Shiryuu's manner of talking about himself, as it was when it was talking about her. "You think the other members of the clan would let Kurou Ryouhara-kun stay with me? Or hell, you think they'd be happy to let me walk around?"

'... But...it didn't change anything.'

A bit of her heart breaks for him, knowing some of where those words can come from. But her mind knows where constantly assuaging those feelings can go.

"It didn't change you into that person, like you thought it would." She lets a long, weary sigh spill from her. "Am I getting close?"

'The unheld legacy of Megumi Ryouhara is not a...' "A 'legacy' that popped out of nowhere!!" Umie hisses back. "Just like Junnosuke Kuroda and the others!"

'....I'm not someone you should lie to.' "And I'm not someone who takes kindly to _threats_."

How is she still wiggling? It's like she's only been tightening her resolve.

'Lie to me, and see all deception punctured instantly.'

There is a silence, after Shiryuu's speech. Heat collects in Umie's cheeks. To be lectured like this, because of a stupid rumor...

Don't let him win, Umie.

"... Are you done yet?" she asks, quietly.

'If anyone tries to bring my family to 'ruin...''

"Why would I make a rumor that leads back to me." Anger answers anger. "If I were to target a rumor towards a secret clan of shinobi, why would I highlight something that changes *my* history, when I couldn't even modify a rumor to protect my co-workers?!"

'Was there ever even one time that you actually loved me?'

The answer is easy, if she answered with her heart. Her mind, however... where would it stop?

"If you have to ask, like that..." Umie says, "you'll probably keep asking, no matter what I tell you. Especially if I told you the truth."

'Maybe he'll let you live, if you tell him what he wants to hear~ Or will you grovel and beg him for his love?' Mai-chan giggles, wooden sandles clipping against the carpet as she moves with an ease and grace not normal for a girl around the hotel room. 'A beautiful, tragic end to a beautiful, tragic love story...'

"When I realized I was never going to see you, again," Umie admits, through clenched teeth. "That I could miss you."

She hears a child's mocking laughter spiral out into an endless echo. "That you could die, and it'd hurt me!! Even when you came back!"

She lets her head hang, her nose pressed against the carpet. "What use is a clan to me? I just wanted you and Kurou in my life."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> She holds him to account.

"...yeah," the boy replies, his hair flowing down and dropping awkwardly over his eyes again, twisted in strange ways to make room for the strap holding his eyepatch to his face. Kyotosaigan was still a hole in his face, a gaping, angry, unattended curtain of black obscuring half of his vision. And despite everything it was easy like this, to look into the past, and see how much was truly missing. He doesn't even feel the ache anymore.

"I did, and it didn't."

An image of Zakuro flashes through his mind, just before his lifeless body hit the deckboards.

Shiryuu never explains. Part of him tries to find fault in what she's saying, in anything she's said thus far. She can feel the weight of the onmitsu's attention, that pacing energy studying her intensely, each and every movement, every breath, every sound.

It would be easy to say that he's watching her like a hawk for any sign of dishonesty, for betrayal. It would be.

'Are you done yet?' "Mmm."

Non-committal, and as neutral as the gleam of the light across the winter ice, Shiryuu falls silent for a time, filling the space between them with piercing silence for her to fill at her leisure. Instead of his breath, she can only hear the sound of rustled fabric as the boy leans back, unbuttoning his overjacket down the collar from the neck, and working to undo each tie with muted snaps of tiny steel latchbuttons with one hand. Underneath is his undershirt, a cross-cross of wire combat netting. Once the split gets to the top of his solar plexus, he slides a slender hand into the dark within.

The sound of a knife against fabric is unmistakable in the quiet. A pretty, dark-hilted thing, polished mirror smooth with the woodgrain showing as wispy grey and black, with muted pewter fittings. A straight kataha-style blade, not a disposable kunai.

It takes him what feels like forever to consider her first words. She tells him that he'll never stop asking, as a pretense for evading the question. A white hot offense burns in his stomach. wants to argue with her, to counter that there are plenty of reasons why she would betray him, why things would have fallen exactly the way they have now.

He wants to fight her. But it doesn't matter.

'I just wanted you and Kurou in my life.'

He blinks once, twice. Angrily, he presses a thumb into his remaining eye, wiping aggressively with the knife flipped down in his hand. Damn it. This girl. He takes a sharp breath, gathering his wits. "...I.."

"...despite everything ... even knowing everything it cost ... I don't have any regrets about us."

The knife slams into the carpet, and sticks there, as Shiryuu buries it firmly there instead of in Umie's back, instead of under her jawline.

In comparison, his gloved touch is gentle, sliding between her palms and into the thick cotton ropes holding her wrists together. One loop around another as he finds the working ends, pulling out the tension and unspooling the lines around her wrists with both hands. She'll feel that soft bite slither out from between her fingers as he gathers up the soft length between his hands, gathering the excess in great loops to hang in his grip.

And just like that, she's free.

Shiryuu stands slowly. He was careful, so there wasn't much circulation disruption in her legs, though he could have pressed down on any one of a number of nerves to make sure she doesn't walk for an hour. Even so, there is stil that idle rancor in him, the energy coiled tight as he stands. Every part of him wants to ...

"...but if my fate is going to hurt you..."
He doesn't know what to believe. But it's not really fair to go on like this, is it? It's not fair to her. Every time he tries to think about what he would say, if he were still 'that person...'

All there is is grey. "...it's important to me that you protect your heart."
He wants to ...

... instead, Shiryuu walks back slowly to the window, to watch the rain.

"...you're free to go."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "..." 'I did, and it didn't.'

It took a moment for it to hit Umie, but when it did... Shiryuu may very well notice it in how her body begins to relax into a dull, tense acknowledgment.

Joker was hurt because he wasn't able to intervene, in order to keep up his vows to not killing, or letting others kill in the Phantom Thieves' presence.
And Shiryuu...

He and Joker can really be alike, in some ways, in much she sees a similarity in that cockiness, when the night is at their back and an ace is up their sleeves. Responsibility, and freedom.

She doubts either of them would feel particularly honored by her comparison.

The sound of a knife being drawn cuts the silence.

She refuses to give Shiryuu the satisfaction of fear. Even if she were going to die in the next few moments...

Her heart just needs to obey and follow along with her resolve.

'... I don't have any regrets about us.'

"...!" There's a soft inhale; Umie's body wanting to roll over and look towards Shiryuu's face...

But his hands are untying hers now, his touch unmistakable in how it gently and carefully undoes the length of cotton tying her wrists together.

And like that, she's free; she's even able to stand, much to her surprise.

Instead of him lingering by her side, he leaves, his silhouette outlined by the grey of rain as she stands up, rubbing her wrists.

'...it's important to me that you protect your heart.'
'It's easy to get in that mindset-- that something, or someone you like, is better separated from you than with you.'

Damn it, again... The words she says to Ren come to mind.

'...you're free to go.'
'I'm where I want to be.'

She takes forward a step, then another.

Part of it is selfish; she loves him. This she knows.
Another part realizes its a symptom of pain, much like how she would fling insults and accusations at Shiryuu when he was doing nothing but trying to help her.

"Tell me his name, Shiryuu." If he doesn't shrink back, she lets her shoulder brush against his and stay there, her eyes looking out into the rain.

Her fingers search for Shiryuu's, hoping to intertwine hers around his. "... Joker wanted to know his name, too. He takes his oaths seriously... a person died, and he was powerless to stop it."

And she...

"If I hadn't hesitated... Joker told me that I did the correct thing in playing it safe, but I still wonder..."

She takes in a breath and lets it flow from her mouth, low and slow. "I told Joker that the pain'll never fully go away. Not completely."

Just like she's telling Shiryuu now, by proxy, a man who has likely killed or seen the deaths of many people.

"... Sometimes... you can give everthing, and it won't be enough, to save everyone." She closes her eyes. "... That place... it was likely borne from the two of us. Our pain and wishes. What you felt there... it's probably there too, just like the feelings I felt when I recieved my Mark."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> Blades of pale neon cross over him, casting, contrasting and shaping his silhouette in a reflection that wouldn't otherwise show against the city lights and grey evening skies of Shibuya. For awhile, he manages to be at peace with the decision, waiting to hear the brush of sneakers across the carpet, the curse of his name, the door shut.

He hears none of these things; his lip purses tightly in frustration.

Hands ball tight at his hips, the rack of his knuckles running from his first finger to his last, assuaging the coil of energy wound tight in him. He cuts an ambivalent stance, neither looking nor speaking up when she doesn't leave, that thread of icy silence drawing tighter by the second.

She approaches; and his shoulders stiffen, resting a hand on the windowsill under the pretense of moving. But he gets no farther -- by the time she finds his warmth, he is a ball of tension.

By the time her fingers slip between his, the hand that laces tightly with her own is holding on as if he were all but drowning.

"...Joker."

There is an edge in his voice, beyond that which he intended, beyond the authoritative declaration so oft the hammer behind his words. The recognition quickly passes.

"... the betrayal was expected," Shiryuu admits, forcing it past the lump in his throat. "There was enough in our tribute to sink the ship and then some. I should have given in to my first instinct. But ..."

He could still feel the gunmetal against the back of his neck. The fear that he felt was familiar then, a cold creep of mortal anxiety that he'd long since grown accustomed to. Dread, however, that was new.

He only felt it when he'd understood she came.

"...His name was Zakuro," Shiryuu says quietly, his voice small and terse. "An ill-fated shinobi from Nagano with a dead father and a mad mother, loyal and willing to die for a dead man. I offered him a path out..but it didn't matter."

He's distracted; his voice trails off darkly. It's hard for him to concentrate, the hold he has on her hand still snug and tight, to calm the restlessness they see. As if he could do something. As if he could really do anything at all.

"...the worst part of it is... that bullet was meant for me."

It's hard to admit without replaying the moment in his head, against the backdrop of her saying something that he's now no longer listening to, lost in her scent, and remembering what it felt like to think about losing it.

"That bullet was mine. But I was too busy..."

He was too distracted. Maybe even too distracted to care. Did he even care at all? ... was it even a capacity he had anymore? He tries to remember, and all he can feel is grey. Focus. Think about something other than the warmth of her arm against yours. Don't let the world pass you by.

"...it hurt more when I thought you'd been killed."

That place...

Ryouhara says nothing of what that hell-blasted space meant, infested with the ghosts of his past. Instead, the boy turns away from the bay, resting his weight against the sill so that he can take her hand between both of his, folding it between both of his gloved hands, that layer of protection now suddenly an anathema to him. It's a fitting focus for his attention.

"...You're afraid of being seen," Shiryuu thinks, finally.
Once she puts it like that, it's very easy to look at that mad space, and cut away every misery that was his, leaving only...

As if suddenly, painfully cognizant of it, Shiryuu focuses not on her, but solely on the shift of his gloves, the soft play of his thumbs across her skin, the space between her thumb and forefinger. It's an ironic way to not kill or interrogate her.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It'd make sense for her to leave, Umie thinks. It would be a way to politely end the potential for a relationship that may only escalate as more problems arise. Staying out of pity would be worthless, and staying out of a wish for everything to be rosy again would be even worse.

She's not here to change a man, or to soothe herself by thinking he's the 'best she can do'. She likes him because he's Shiryuu.

They're both damaged people. There's going to be some growing pains, as they, despite being 'adults', have plenty of growing up to do.

"Yes, the guy who helped me." Umie hears that edge, and chuckles in that moment, her fingers squeezing against his, eager for their touch. "I considered the possibility of me just being... overprotective. Neither of us wanted to tangle with Order matters." Her lips dip in a sour expression. "However, he knew things were going south the moment Ruin showed up. They have... history."

His first instinct. "Ruin may have been counting on that to begin with. He seized the moment when he noticed the three of us, but I don't think he planned for it."

Her eyes narrow. "It wouldn't surprise me if his Persona is of something chaotic, like mine is. But I can't even guarantee it's something as straightforward as that. Hiding your Persona like that... I didn't even know it was possible."

'His name was Zakuro.' She becomes quiet, listening to Shiryuu talk about a man she never got to fully meet, and never will.

She thinks of many things she could say, logical tidbits derived from a mind used to having to debate with herself under a dark green sky. However, while her own struggles with her past sins came in handy with helping Joker, here, it's not so much.

"Ruin is an assassin. From the sound of it, Zakuro probably knew even better than any of us what was going to happen next."

It's little comfort, to say that, as she holds onto Shiryuu's hand, listening to the rain.

"If there's anything of him in that place... I can help you bring them back." Her body tenses at the thought of encountering his remains; she takes a steady breath. "You'd think... with my persona being what it is, I'd be all about it. But seeing demons die and seeing people die... it hits different."

'...it hurt more when I thought you'd been killed.' "That's why Ruin went for me. He wanted to establish a narrative, so... I switched the battlefield and went for him emotionally. It nearly worked... but it worked too well."

She blinks when Shiryuu shifts his position, turning around so that both his hands encase hers.

'You're afraid of being seen.'

"...." Her chin bends down, suddenly aware of the bay out there, and the Nichirinmaru, somewhere further beyond.

It takes everything inside her to admit a single answer, now that Shiryuu has seen that fear manifested, written in broad enough strokes to allow Kurou to feel it as well.

"... Yes."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> Shiryuu's abjectly not interested in Ruin, and it shows in the way his lips tighten, even though his response dangerously sits on the hazy, blurred line between both Ruin and Joker. "A lot of things can be hidden," the boy riles bitterly. "Don't mythologize him."

A lot can change with one phone call.

"It's going to feel dated when he's dead."

Everything feels like it hits a nerve, something raw and deep. He probably knew even better than any of us what was going to happen next, Akabane thinks. The response is immediate, as Shiryuu realizes what she's getting at. No, that's .. "Th... that's it, though," he tries to explain. "It wasn't just..." He was...

Every time he tries to say it, there is nothing but a grey wall. Shiryuu doesn't get to the rest.

"...damn it."

She's talking about it, reasoning with him, discussing it like it were a chess match. It's just like Umie Akabane, so determined to sound confident about it, reasonable. Like it didn't matter at all. She can feel the way his hands move; the rhythm of his touch grows a more anxious tempo, the urge to squeeze barely tempered by his unwillingness to hurt her. His thumb shapes the fine bones of her knuckles; the nicks and cuts of the day's shifts registered only as light vagaries under the smoothed touch of capeskin.

Even so, his reluctance is plain, the unwillingness he has to let go -- even when he gently unthreads his fingers from hers, hand on her wrist to temper the motion until they're separated, until his hands are only a suggestion against her forearms.

The boy's breathing forcibly slows, as she quiets, as the truth dreadfully apparent only to the two of them is admitted to the open air. It's not just a matter of math; he remembers her backing away, wanting to run. He remembers everything it took for them to escape the attention of 'that thing' that even he could recognize.

'Yes,' she says.

Here is when he moves: The grey-headed boy takes a slow step into her, his hands holding onto her arms to keep space between them. He isn't forceful, but firm -- he walks into her, leading her back until he can feel the edge of the bay window's frame press between her shoulderblades with a soft bump. He is gentle, but the wall is less warm than he, despite the thrum of the heater in the bones of the building.

The soft jingle of the tiny, unlatched buckles at the wrists of his gloves carry just barely over the sound of the rain with the minuscule impact.

"...then, stop."

He tells her to stop, and for a little while, the tinny buzz of the lamp that sends blades of muted neon to shape over his figure and hers is the loudest sound in the room. It is plain that Shiryuu prefers to hold her than not; his grasp idly shapes her arms beneath the sleeves of her jacket, down, then up. This close, she doesn't have to meet his eyes, only the split of his own jacket, the tough netting just underneath.

"It's not even just what we saw, in there... it's what we didn't see."
It's so like everything else Shiryuu does; a story told in what isn't.

At first, he's not talking -- his touch tells it purer. His hands are that of a trained killer's, the same as Zakuro, and perhaps worse. He can't feel her the way he'd like with his gloves on, and that small, vagabond ache drives him. It leads his touch to bury into her mantle, laying hands on her shoulders, until his thumbs slide beneath the space between her coat and her skin, as if that alone would mean he could feel her.

It doesn't help -- and madly, he never takes off his gloves.

It shouldn't matter at all. Frustrations stacked atop frustrations spur the boy's grip. If she doesn't get loose of him -- an easy affair -- he'll take her by the shoulders and bump her against the wall again. -bomp.- It's a tiny, final gesture, as if limply, vainly trying to shake any kind of sense at all into that brave, confident, powerful, infuriatingly soft woman.

He absolutely won't take off his gloves. Don't give in. "Irg," Shiryuu complains darkly, the sound coming from deep in his chest. "Why can't I stop loving you. ... dumb ... stupid ... cool ..."

His grip tightening into her jacket, the boy's hair interleaves with hers when he rests his forehead on her, pale grey and ash blonde mixing up into a tangle. All the knowledge in the world, and not a single word would help anything. It'd make sense for her to leave, he thinks. She can still go. She should. He tries to let her; it is a Sisyphean effort, but his grip loosens on her.

"Why would I ever put you in that position again..."
He won't.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'It's going to feel dated when he's dead.'

Threats of impending death aside, Shiryuu is correct. Despite how much power he exhibits, Ruin was someone who still allowed himself to walk alongside Joker in order to escape the supernatural space they were in. Somehow, they even were able to escape without him killing Joker. Maybe, they were working together the entire time, or more likely, they came to a temporary truce.

Ruin can be mad. Ruin can be affected. Ruin is lonely.

....

No need to go that far in humanizing the man.

Umie tries to walk over the facts and exert logic where her feelings can't reach; it's a natural process, to her, having to do the same with demons and dealing with Shadows, both creatures of emotion.

Emotion can mean weakness, but she is still a creature of emotion, just like the Dark Hour has shaped her life, but she is still a creature that belongs to the day.

Her confidence is as much a mask against the unknowable as her attempts at deriving logic from things that hold none. It was a senseless act of violence that took a life, and she, Shiryuu, Kurou, and Joker were all witnesses to what Ruin is capable of. If melting into the stuff of shadows is a violence of the self, this was a violence of the body, just as graphic, if moreso due to how direct it is.

The squeeze of his hands reward her with the indication to stop, to stop 'fixing' things.

There is no logic, for the things that wound them.

With a step, he has her directed against the window and its frame, the cool of it contrasting with the warmth of his clothing and body.

'...then, stop.'

"What do you think I've been trying--" The hitched, whispered objection is quieted as his hands wander over her shoulders, her arms, while reinforcing that maddening space between them.

There were more things, unseen. Rooms that haven't been visited yet. Secrets and family ghosts. But even in that room itself...

SHe's aware that there's a space left where she can leave. She could even attack him, if she wanted, her hands and arms only limited by the pressure of his hands, wandering as if attempting to smooth out those grains of frustration and emotion.

-bomp-.

She hasn't moved at all; he distance he's reinforced feels like it'd only strengthen with her attempts to close it.

'Why can't I stop loving you.' "I ask myself that too," she says, managing a sharp-edged smile, encouraged to try to close the distance--

Dumb... stupid... cool... "...?!"

Umie's eyes widen, red brown irises on full display.

"... You think I'm... cool?" That momentary shock fragments into a squinty eyed sort of incredulity. "You saw me screw up, and you're *literally* the leader of a clan of ninjas. You're always dressed nice, you smell nice, you're always able to..."

How did she manage that?!

"I ask myself that a lot, too... but it just comes easy, with you," she repeats. "You... really know how to--" Her breath races a hitch as his grip tightens and their foreheads touch, the pale grey contrasting with the tangle of false ash blonde.

SHe just lets herself get lost in that moment of closeness, up until his hands leave her.

Loosening.

She seizes her chance, her hands coming up to curl against his back, drawing him back in.

"Sorry," she whispers, her lips aiming to press against his chest. "I can steal hearts too, you know..."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> It's really the only time where the tension drains from Shiryuu.

It's maddening. The boy's black jacket rustles with the anxious hold he has on her, all wandering hands and frustrated sighs. He tries to shake it out of her, that brave little impulse of hers to not listen, to run damage control, to manage the unmanageable.

He tries to keep her back, to keep even that breath's space of distance between them, to keep the heightened tension in his bones and blood, to use it to get the point across, to warn her away. Time and time again, that's failed. Even now, as she tries to fight him, as she smiles that half-moon little smile of hers and tries to take advantage of him.

No...

She can go anywhere but closer. Anywhere but there. The leather of his gloves sound lightly against the fabric of her jacket, bound up in her sleeves. 'You think I'm cool,' she asks, incredulous.

She goes on. About his clothes, his heritage, his scent.

"-- you don't get to say things like that, ask those things," Shiryuu insists stiffly, holding her in place for as long as she's inclined.

It takes him a long time to recover, to say really anything at all.

"...you always get back up, no matter how dark it gets," the boy admits, darkly. "You remind me of the moonrise."

Even in the twist of an apple-sweet thought, his voice carries a hidden edge to it. A sharp, broken thought to be stepped on, though its exact shape and detail will be his mystery to her. His expression doesn't match hers, a thin, tight, wan little thing, as if a smile were a shape he didn't quite know how to recall. He tries to avoid falling, though his hands no longer have the inclination. She's trying to say something, but it sounds distant and faraway.

He tried, but...

This close, the scent of the rain is wild in Ryouhara, the same as his heart is a fist in his chest, by the time her kiss finds it. Soft lips encounter no resistance from the heat of his skin, even despite the diamond-link of ballistic mesh meant to protect it from far less dangerous assailants.

She can sense the lightning sensation that creeps up his spine, the young, sharp sound suppressed somewhere in his throat.

An echo of Akabane's voice rolls somewhere along the edge of his attention, fighting for dominance with the feel of her inside his jacket. An apology, he dimly recognizes.

'I can steal hearts too, you know..'

Ryouhara makes a face, halfway hidden against her hair. "That's--" he starts, vexed. "agh...you're such a mess..."

That boy takes her by the shoulders, gently rolling back her jacket, to bunch the hoodie up at her back. The shadow of him lowers into her as he leans in, to press a kiss against her temple, first; then her jawline. Down further, along every inch she cedes as he quietly plucks her jacket down her figure. There is an awkwardness to it -- as close as she is, she'll end up tied up in her sleeves before he plucks it all the way off.

But then, the press of him, all citrus and warmth, is entirely too comfortable with holding her still for long enough to shade a succession of ardent, intimate attentions down the length of her bicep, one kiss for every little tension discharged. "Just, let me..."

His whisper is lost somewhere against her.
He honestly forgets what he was going to say.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> '-- you don't get to say things like that, ask those things.' "I'll say what I want," she says, almost complusively.

With that spark of affection, in her eyes, as she comfortably pushes back, again and again.

And is only stopped when Shiryuu gives voice to those thoughts about her, and only the one that was positive, in a way she could never see in herself.

There are so many people she'd see as being cool, people she even developed crushes on, like Joker. They were also people she could never, ever approach in that light, for whatever reason.

It was only when she could begin to see them as trusted friends that she could begin to find herself as an equal, rather than simply act like one.

'...you always get back up, no matter how dark it gets.' "That's..." That rational, logical part of her wants to object, and offer the many times she nearly gave up, even just earlier. "I..."

She's speechless, in a way she wasn't when he held ending her life as a possibility.

She glances down. "... That's... just because I...."

'You remind me of the moonrise.'

"The... moonrise..."

After so many tries, Shiryuu's weapon hits its mark. Red fills Umie's cheeks, her eyes glancing to the aside.

He's driven her speechless, finally, even if his expression doesn't seem particularly triumphant.

How can he say something like this, Umie thinks. He'll win!

She'll grab victory back... by...

Something like a strategy was there, when she kissed his chest, feeling the beat of his heart. It may be the Badb in Umie who speaks the deadly little words, as his heart beats fast underneath her lips.

Shiryuu can feel the blackbird's grin against his chest, as Umie hides a cheeky smile there, before he begins to roll back her jacket.

By the fifth kiss, she decides to ignore the tally on who is winning, delivering a rain of kisses against Shiryuu's silver hair.
</poem>
[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-08-02: A Bond for Two

2026-08-09T02:50:41Z

Tanyuu:

*'''Log: A Bond for Two'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Shiryuu Ryouhara]], [[Umie Akabane]]
*'''Where:''' Electric Town, Akihabara, Tokyo
*'''OOC Date:''' August 02, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 19, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''A recent rumor about an ancient ninja princess has unearthed the Ryouharas' existence. Shiryuu wants answers, and, with Umie being newly tied to his family's bloodline, he's determined to get them, even if it breaks his heart. Now, if only Umie would act like a proper hostage...''

----
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> "Oh. Ah. I'm sorry," the tiny, mousy girl apologizes to Umie. "I don't usually do this kind of thing, and I could use your help...? I need to find ... ah, Cat Street? I'm supposed to be meeting a friend, there. And -- oh, I guess you should really look out for what's behind you, ne?"

'I guess there's no delaying it any longer,' he'd thought, shortly after Korozen had taken Kurou back to the apartment. Or rather, back to gridlock -- Korozen had carefully timed the trip to be caught in some small amount of evening traffic. Nothing so telling so as to let Kurou know anything, but there was a task to accomplish, right?

'After, bring her to me,' the shihaisha had said, and Korozen was obliged to comply, as a neutral party to the matter. Of course, the shihaisha is cruel.

'Korozen. If she's hurt, I'll scatter your bones across the moon.'

Ah, Shirogarasu is so dramatic, sometimes. But he bows in acquiescence anyway. It's nothing a distraction and a rag soaked in isoflurane can't solve. Or at the least, such is how Korozen's decided to phrase it to Shikon and Asagi. Shikon, of course, was very, very excited about the prospect of meeting this mysterious new ninja princess Akabane that's gotten the eye of the head of the clan. Unfortunately, she's not as good a decoy as Asagi. Oh well. On with the show! And probably a black bag!

Umie would be summarily decoyed, drugged and kidnapped wholesale, stuffed unceremoniouly into the back of a waiting K-truck loaded up with a crate labelled 'VOLATILE - KEEP WARM.' It's probably not necessary to smuggle her in on a laundry cart to the Hotel Indigo, but it'll make things an awful lot smoother. They can't afford her being awake enough to start fighting. If they have to fight her, it's definitely going to be a problem for the mission parameters.

So. The likelihood of Umie being tied up and being carried in with the unmentionables is high. Ideally, she'll end up in his room black bagged and tied snugly to a chair. "SHE'S SO PRETTY," Shikon just about yells at Shiryuu the moment the door is closed. "You _know_ what Ai-pyon is going to say if she sees her!!"

"...take off that bag and get out," Shiryuu says, looking out the window grimly. Absent a clear view of his mien pressed tight, his black outfit does a whole lot of the heavy lifting in portraying exactly how entirely, deeply unimpressed he is by the whole situation from the back to the front. It's a kidnapping, not a marriage proposal..
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Mm?" Umie, having come off her shift at Le Chat Marron, looks over at the tiny(ier than her, even!) mousy girl. "Yeah, just go down--"

The way to sneak up on someone who, in another set of circumstances, could be difficult to sneak up on, is simple: You just need to catch her outside of an area where she can use her Persona, and even if she was in such a space, all you need is to not have a resonance.

These are the perils of not being a full-fledged anti-navigator.

To be fair to Umie, the moment the mousy points out the need to look behind her, the blonde acted... completely normally, because she was technically in a public place, albiet briefly out of view of any people that would complicate Operation Kidnap Girlfriend.

Which is why...

----

... They were right to be careful; that label of 'VOLATILE' would be put to good use if Umie happened to wake up.

And indeed, there is a certain beauty to that seemingly peaceful look on Umie's face, as she's secured. (You'll just have to ignore the bit of drool.)

"... Mmmn.... mnh...." Umie stirs restlessly, as the effects of the isoflurane begin to wear off. Like a pet cat coming home from the vet, she'll begin moving in her chair, that heavy head wobbling around as she has trouble understanding exactly why she can't get up.

It'll only escalate from there; Umie has no special abilities to recover any faster than any normal person, but she makes up for it in pure obstinance.

And maybe a bit of sick from the isoflurane, which she seems to just not care about as she tries to figure out why the chair is not letting her get up.

Hm. Where was she again? Why'd she fall asleep? What was she doing?

What time is it? Where is she?
Why's her head heavy?

Screw this chair. This chair is annoying.

"The'snext train's leaving.... fonna mess it..."

She's not noticed Shiryuu there yet, but she's definitely getting riled up.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
He is at the very least patient.

The room is only dimly lit, the natural overhead lights dimmed as tiny neon beams crawl across the walls, ceiling and floor. The source being that sole lamp, propped up not too far from his laptop. It's been opened, and there's a little web graphic: A crude rendition of the three leaves symbol of the Ryouhara, shamefully replicated by what must have been a four year old with the wrong kind of shareware access to a paint app. Above it, in thick Impact font: SECRET WARLORD PRINCESS? HIDDEN FAMILY'S SCANDAL!

Shiryuu's pointedly ignoring it. Instead, the on-and-off drizzling of the rain outside is taking up the whole of his attention, being the only audible sound in the sprawling and sparse room. It's still stripped bare, but the little table is still present, just moved to an extreme end of the room, with the chairs conspicuously missing.

The one Umie's currently tied to was stolen from the lounge. It's only mildly comfortable, and only because Shikon insisted on picking out 'just the right one for Blonde-pyon's butt,' while Asagi fretted about the isoflurane wearing off too soon. Don't these supralunar people have super resistance power like that??

A tiny snif, as Shiryuu's head drops, low and to the side, as if inclined to look at Umie as she stirs, but never following through with it.

"You're drooling, Akabane..."
Despite not looking, his senses are far above par, comparably. Or his memory? This isn't the sort of question one should be thinking about when one is tied to a chair. Especially not with a pretty double column knot of soft blue cotton rope around your wrists.

(Asagi tied it, and Shikon is never going to let her forget it.)

His black gloves are sitting on the windowsill now, as both his hands are shoved into his pockets. He's still wearing quite a few layers of clothing in those shades of black, but he's comparably dressed down -- his back is still blazoned with the same symbol that's on the news post on his laptop, though the clarity of imagery is the same as the noonday sun to a candle. It's a loose type of house jacket, and the boy is still wearing an eyepatch, though most of his linen bindings have left with the accursed hospital.

"Hnn. Get ahold of yourself," he tells her, as if giving orders will make her recovery any quicker. "You're too tough to be drugged for that long."

It has nothing to do with the fact he itches to go get her a handkerchief. His eyes narrow in cold annoyance at the compulsion. It's more important that he stay focused.

"Listen up," he says, after a beat.

"It's important, this time. Not that you were intending on telling me about this anytime soon, I'm guessing."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> How could someone so small and petite be that affected by something like this?

Red brown irises make a serious attempt to focus on the thick Impact font and its words.

Secret warlord princess. Huh. That sounds... familiar...

Whatever else she would've thought is instead taken up by how heavy her head is feeling, right now.

'You're drooling, Akabane.'

"Some kind of weird idea of a date..." Umie mumbles, as she keeps moving.

She's rather persistant about it, too, jerking around and twisting her wrists around, refusing to quit from her chosen goal.
Or to ask for help, for that matter.

'You're too tough to be drugged for that long.'

"Get close enough n' I'll plant a foot straight up that nose of yers..." Umie, that doesn't even correlate to what Shiryuu was even talking about, what

She's frustrated, but she's not going to give Shiryuu the satisfaction of asking for help, or even acknowledge that the situation is out of the ordinary for him... well, in regards to her.

'It's important, this time.'
'Not that you were intending on telling me about this anytime soon, I'm guessing.'

Don't let him win, Umie. You're so close. Just twist your wrists like so and tense up, and then!! .... wait what--

"Hua-umph!" With a sudden rip, a flop, and a thud of a body, the chair becomes unoccupied.

However, the pretty knot of blue cotton fabric is holding firm, and this is not a supralunar zone. So what, exactly, is Umie doing?

She's inchworming her way towards Shiryuu now, with steely determination, and no question of what exactly she's going to do when she gets there.

Just that he needs to learn a lesson about casually kidnapping people he supposedly likes.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Did she just threaten him?

"Alright, banchou Popeye..."

He surmises, perhaps correctly, that Umie is still drugged, and so ignores whatever she was saying she was going to do with her foot in such rowdy terms. The grey-haired shihaisha thinks, shaking his head at an idea that must have just occurred to him. Hands slide out of his pockets, as the shinobi folds his arms.

"It doesn't matter," Shiryuu thinks aloud.

A small clatter arises behind him, and the boy looks over his shoulder, arms still folded. A short, sharp chirp of alarm raises in the back of his throat as he sees the chair on the ground, Akabane getting (kind of) free in record time, which is infuriating enough that a silver sprig sticks straight up on Shiryuu's head as he flashes his teeth.

"_urrrhhhhh_" the shihaisha roars tinily at her, "Why are you bad at even being a good hostage!!"

It takes all of Shiryuu's will not to demand Umie get back in the chair at once. It would do no good.

She needs to learn a lesson about taking being kidnapped seriously.

Gathering his gloves, Ryouhara turns on a heel briskly, with a tiny sigh. "All of you are terrible at listening," he thinks, padding towards the offending blonde inchworm.

"It's like I said, I won't let you get away with any funny business this time," Shiryuu tells Umie in no uncertain terms. She might have the advantage right now if it came to Persona, but currently, the moon is a long ways away.

Shiryuu does peer at the suspiciously elaborate knotwork keeping his person's wrists tied together for a few seconds longer than is strictly necessary. She's very good at wiggling.

Focus, Shirogarasu.

"Anyway..."

Ryouhara is not going to put up with much more of this inchworming action -- he's going to stride alongside her nimbly, before leaning down and taking a seat. Right on the back of Akabane's thighs, to put a stop to the entire industry of whatever it is she thinks she's doing right now. The boy pulls his gloves back on slowly one at a time as he thinks on it.

"...you're going to aggravate your injuries," Shiryuu tells her, noncommittally and definitely not caring at all. It's just that.. "If I have to resort to enhanced interrogation to get at what I need to know, you need to be at your full strength or you'll perish."

"But..." Shiryuu points out, raising a finger where she can see exactly none of it. "If you give in easily, maybe I can just promise you safe passage to Shanghai, where you can start a new life and I won't have to destroy you utterly." He frowns about this.

"So question the first." Shiryuu rests his fist in his hand, elbows on his knees.

"What are your intentions towards the Ryouhara clan?" Stare. Flat, tight expression.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It seems that all Shiryuu is doing is activating whatever instincts are in the blonde to fiercely rebel against his authority, shining like a beam of light through that drugged fog.

"You don't *deserve* a good hostage!!" Umie grunts, as she inchworms over towards Shiryuu. "Violating my trust... you deserve every second of this!!" Unfortunately, the only thing that is being highlighted is that stubborn lack of future planning, just someone forcing a path open through every means they have.
.... even if that path's end is not one they have defined in their mind, as she wiggles fiercely. Wiggle wiggle wiggle.

There may be a satisfying 'eep' as Shiryuu's weight on the back of her thighs. It's not really a painful 'eep', however, as Umie's craning her head downward to hide the flush of red on her cheeks.

Focus, Umie. You can't let some simple bit of pressure make you cave in to... whatever this is about.

---ah, right, cave into 'being a proper hostage', thank you, Shiryuu.

'...you're going to aggravate your injuries.' "Oh, you care *now*?!"
'If I have to resort to enhanced interrogation to get at what I need to know, you need to be at your full strength or you'll perish.' "And I'll die of embarrassment, as everyone who told me 'this is really not smart' or 'he's dangerous' gets to shake their finger at me for following my heart instead of my mind!"
'If you give in easily, maybe I can just promise you safe passage to Shanghai, where you can start a new life and I won't have to destroy you utterly.' "If I was ever going to do that, I'm definitely not doing it now." Hooray, Shiryuu doesn't have to ship her to Shanghai!

She's just getting angrier. Shiryuu can feel it, underneath him.

'So question the first. What are your intentions towards the Ryouhara clan?'

Her attempts at wiggling stop.

".... You ask me that..."

It's like a tensing spring; Shiryuu can see the peek of that black Mark on the inside of her right wrist, where the sleeve was pulled back from her earlier struggles.

".... after I starred down a barrel trying to make sure you weren't assassinated..." She's trying to cock an eyebrow at Shiryuu, but while she can be flexible, she is hardly the sort of contortionist needed to perform this particular stunt. "Or did you really think I was trying to come on to _Ruin_, of all people?"

She sees a pair of tabi socks peek from under the hem of those red robes of little Maihime, the small girl bending down until her black hair pools around her own head.
Mocking, but also reminding her with little whispers of what she could do to reverse this.

Just use that Mark, and...

"My intention was to be the bond of a stubborn idiot," Umie says, instead. "Because that's the thing we have in common. How else could you explain it? We were trying to kill each other the first time we met."

"If it was all a lie, in the end," she murmurs, trying to remain conscious of Shiryuu's presence (rather than the sensation of little fingers tracing down her back), "it was a pleasant one."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
"_I_ told you I was dangerous."

Shiryuu's weight is warm and sure -- he has no trouble pinning her down with just enough and not too much. It's in the gentle pitch of his weight against his thighs to move his center of gravity just so; making sure he doesn't quite cut off the circulation in her legs, but just enough to keep her in one place.

The boy if nothing else has exquisite balance. He won't fall, no matter how hard she tries. He just has to let her wiggle herself out, not look, and not think about what Shikon or Asagi would say, and hopefully they're not -spying.-

Mm. Shiryuu would contemplate the wisdom of letting Korozen arrange for the one whose ninkou can hear through half the floor before interrogating his girlfriend. But the thought is dismissed as quickly as it appears.

It's not like that.. right?
Remember Shiryuu. You're just a mark...

His fingers roll -- one fist unravelling to nimbly interlace his gloved fingers together, the bridge resting just under his chin. It's strange -- the boy is customarily overdressed for the warmth of the room, with his outer jacket buttoned all the way up to the height of his neck. All those layers, and still his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, baring the length of his arms before the cuffs of his gloves.

Being under repairs, Juurishojin is absent. He is well aware of her ability, and the boy acidly watches her struggle with it. Unlike her, he has no mark. His supralunar power wasn't awakened by trauma, or disaster, or force, or conspiracy.

The only thing he has on his arms is a little tied bit of braiding about one wrist.

'Or did you really think I was trying to come on to _Ruin,_ of all people?' -- Shiryuu's expression tightens immediately, his eyes narrowing. The strike of his response, and the sudden spike of heat in his voice is telling. He wasn't thinking about it until she brought it up, just now. "Were you?"

Ugh... don't let her get to you. "...I guess it doesn't matter either."

He sets his jaw, and take a sharp breath. She said something about how everyone told her not to trust him, that she'll never give in. "You're just going to make it harder on yourself," Shiryuu shakes his head. "The loss of any of our family wounds me, but..."

He's about to say something else, when she says it was a lie.

"...no, it wasn't a lie," Shiryuu thinks, quietly.

The boy's touch chases new sensation along the small of her back, the walk of his fingertips along the line of Akabane's spine a precursor to the onmitsu telling himself he was taking the measure of her willingness to attack still -- whether he'd have to fight her, even now. His gloved hand raises from her, darkly.

"...but since that night ... maybe there's not enough of me left for anything like that," he thinks quietly, but is unwilling to explain any further.

... hrnm.

Shiryuu breathes, leaving her to her ruminating. It's up to him to put this on the right track. "Even weakened, it'd be foolish of me to take you at your word, when our bonds are by blood and not by our l..." .. he frowns.

"...second question."
He changes the subject.

"If you, like me, are descended from the main house, who's your handler? You'll have had a co-conspirator to be able to expose us to this degree."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Damn it, Umie. Why do you feel comfort in his presence still? His warmth?

"So's a speeding train," Umie murmurs. "So's a bullet. Yet I still..." Yet she still fell in love with him, and he with her. The danger could have helped, but what especially helped was the fact that there was nothing she had to hide from him about herself.

It was already known and labeled. The rest, she admitted, because of the grace he gave her.

.... And the warmth he held, when she let herself fall asleep against him.

Focus, Umie, don't let him win.

"Of course n--" '... i guess it doesn't matter either.' "..." The energy of Umie's body twists at that; those words hurt, in some way, even if Shiryuu can't see her face.

'You're just going to make it harder on yourself.' "Don't lie; you like that."
'The loss of any of our family wounds me, but...' "... eh?"

He... believes those rumors?

'No, it wasn't a lie,' he says.

Even if her brain tries to read Shiryuu's fingers as more of the same that plagued her, her body remembers them well, shivering at his touch.

'... maybe there's not enough of me left for anything like that.' "Is that what you tell yourself?" she says, quietly.

'Even if our bonds are by blood and not by our l...'

Much like she did in battle, that smallest opening is what Umie immediately sets on.

"I don't fall in love with ghosts, Shiryuu." It's easier to admit it, when it's not direct.

"... But I expected more out of you, than to fall to rumors. Is that all the Order needs to do, to get you back in line?"

Umie stills. "It's the only explanation. Even if you look, there'll be sudden records of it, even if there weren't any before. It's no different than rumors of fast running grannies or stores suddenly selling weaponry."

The price of anything becoming involved with her is ruin. Kurou could be in another room being accused of the same things, right now, and she'd have no way of knowing.

But, as she said to Akechi, isn't it better to resist, and at least give whatever is watching a good show?

Her fingers tighten. "I have no 'retainer', and there is no 'house'. I know who I am, and _I'm Umie Akabane_."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
'You like that.' What does that even mean? Shiryuu almost lets his immediate thought slip, mouthing the words to himself incredulously, a white hot surge of -- something adjacent to annoyance -- flaring up in the back of his neck.

It's starting to get warm, he thinks, slighting his weight slightly on her. It's in rough comparison and contrast to her own energy, coiled like a viper.

"... I thought that it'd be fine."

Part of him is loathe to lift his hand, abandoning the soothing sensation of her warmth and scent, and it takes a long time for Shiryuu to decide if it's really what he wants to do. It's not -- but he lifts his hand anyway.

"No matter what happened to my spirit, or how much 'color' I lost. It would be fine, if you were safe," the boy admits coldly, each word successively more divorced of weakness and methodical, as if reason were his beacon. "If everyone were safe. Someone who protects everyone who stands behind him. That's what a 'shihaisha' is."

"But...it didn't change anything," he thinks, almost too quiet to hear, just before he's --

"Tch," his response is immediate when she suggests that the Order is at the root of it. "The unheld legacy of Megumi Ryouhara is not a -- fast granny --" he objects at once, speaking fast before managing to rein himself in, mid-sentence. His voice drops an octave.

"....I'm not someone you should lie to."

The seams of his gloves make the softest creak as his weight shifts across her thighs, as his palms meet. "I am the cold wind that rolls down Iizuna," he tells her, in no uncertain terms. "The purest blood of the noblest house, whose truth and right are legitimized both above and below the moon. I am the judgment that scatters the mists, and the cherished blade promised to the lost. I am the slayer of tyrants, the sword of Akita, the grey law of light, and the epitaph of our lost children. Lie to me, and see all deception punctured instantly."

"If anyone tries to bring my family to 'ruin...' even the shadow of Orihime's loom won't fall far enough for that person to escape my justice."

There is a harsh, unyielding energy in the grey-haired boy, stalking and restless and angry and wild. No matter how little he moves, she can feel it in the way she shifts alongside her, the way he responds slow and measured to her words, the wound-tight tension in every fiber of him. Motionless and heated, his restlessness is tied tight by a thread of relentless logic.

"The Ryouhara clan has used 'Kotodama' before," he tells her. "It is not a simple happenstance. It is not an 'oops.' It has a source. An actor, and an author. That is for reason and cause, neither of which 'they' have, knowing what is known -- they _don't_ want me to kill you. A kotodama that exposes us doesn't help that."

The idea dismissed out of hand, Shiryuu shakes his head.

"So, 'Umie Akabane.' Question the third, now that you know that your bones are the price for lying."

Slowly, he tilts his head back, and lets a smooth, unsteady breath roll out of his chest. His eye lids, his other hidden eye burning harshly will ill distrust. She said she doesn't fall in love with ghosts..

But if that's all he is...

"....was there ever even one time that you actually loved me?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> She hates the conflicting reactions of her body; Mai-chan is clearly taunting her by making it seem like Shiryuu is touching her.

'It would be fine, if you were safe.' "Did you ever ask yourself what would happen, if you died?"

The anger that coils up underneath Shiryuu seems to be just as feverish at Shiryuu's manner of talking about himself, as it was when it was talking about her. "You think the other members of the clan would let Kurou Ryouhara-kun stay with me? Or hell, you think they'd be happy to let me walk around?"

'... But...it didn't change anything.'

A bit of her heart breaks for him, knowing some of where those words can come from. But her mind knows where constantly assuaging those feelings can go.

"It didn't change you into that person, like you thought it would." She lets a long, weary sigh spill from her. "Am I getting close?"

'The unheld legacy of Megumi Ryouhara is not a...' "A 'legacy' that popped out of nowhere!!" Umie hisses back. "Just like Junnosuke Kuroda and the others!"

'....I'm not someone you should lie to.' "And I'm not someone who takes kindly to _threats_."

How is she still wiggling? It's like she's only been tightening her resolve.

'Lie to me, and see all deception punctured instantly.'

There is a silence, after Shiryuu's speech. Heat collects in Umie's cheeks. To be lectured like this, because of a stupid rumor...

Don't let him win, Umie.

"... Are you done yet?" she asks, quietly.

'If anyone tries to bring my family to 'ruin...''

"Why would I make a rumor that leads back to me." Anger answers anger. "If I were to target a rumor towards a secret clan of shinobi, why would I highlight something that changes *my* history, when I couldn't even modify a rumor to protect my co-workers?!"

'Was there ever even one time that you actually loved me?'

The answer is easy, if she answered with her heart. Her mind, however... where would it stop?

"If you have to ask, like that..." Umie says, "you'll probably keep asking, no matter what I tell you. Especially if I told you the truth."

'Maybe he'll let you live, if you tell him what he wants to hear~ Or will you grovel and beg him for his love?' Mai-chan giggles, wooden sandles clipping against the carpet as she moves with an ease and grace not normal for a girl around the hotel room. 'A beautiful, tragic end to a beautiful, tragic love story...'

"When I realized I was never going to see you, again," Umie admits, through clenched teeth. "That I could miss you."

She hears a child's mocking laughter spiral out into an endless echo. "That you could die, and it'd hurt me!! Even when you came back!"

She lets her head hang, her nose pressed against the carpet. "What use is a clan to me? I just wanted you and Kurou in my life."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
She holds him to account.

"...yeah," the boy replies, his hair flowing down and dropping awkwardly over his eyes again, twisted in strange ways to make room for the strap holding his eyepatch to his face. Kyotosaigan was still a hole in his face, a gaping, angry, unattended curtain of black obscuring half of his vision. And despite everything it was easy like this, to look into the past, and see how much was truly missing. He doesn't even feel the ache anymore.

"I did, and it didn't."

An image of Zakuro flashes through his mind, just before his lifeless body hit the deckboards.

Shiryuu never explains. Part of him tries to find fault in what she's saying, in anything she's said thus far. She can feel the weight of the onmitsu's attention, that pacing energy studying her intensely, each and every movement, every breath, every sound.

It would be easy to say that he's watching her like a hawk for any sign of dishonesty, for betrayal. It would be.

'Are you done yet?' "Mmm."

Non-committal, and as neutral as the gleam of the light across the winter ice, Shiryuu falls silent for a time, filling the space between them with piercing silence for her to fill at her leisure. Instead of his breath, she can only hear the sound of rustled fabric as the boy leans back, unbuttoning his overjacket down the collar from the neck, and working to undo each tie with muted snaps of tiny steel latchbuttons with one hand. Underneath is his undershirt, a cross-cross of wire combat netting. Once the split gets to the top of his solar plexus, he slides a slender hand into the dark within.

The sound of a knife against fabric is unmistakable in the quiet. A pretty, dark-hilted thing, polished mirror smooth with the woodgrain showing as wispy grey and black, with muted pewter fittings. A straight kataha-style blade, not a disposable kunai.

It takes him what feels like forever to consider her first words. She tells him that he'll never stop asking, as a pretense for evading the question. A white hot offense burns in his stomach. wants to argue with her, to counter that there are plenty of reasons why she would betray him, why things would have fallen exactly the way they have now.

He wants to fight her. But it doesn't matter.

'I just wanted you and Kurou in my life.'

He blinks once, twice. Angrily, he presses a thumb into his remaining eye, wiping aggressively with the knife flipped down in his hand. Damn it. This girl. He takes a sharp breath, gathering his wits. "...I.."

"...despite everything ... even knowing everything it cost ... I don't have any regrets about us."

The knife slams into the carpet, and sticks there, as Shiryuu buries it firmly there instead of in Umie's back, instead of under her jawline.

In comparison, his gloved touch is gentle, sliding between her palms and into the thick cotton ropes holding her wrists together. One loop around another as he finds the working ends, pulling out the tension and unspooling the lines around her wrists with both hands. She'll feel that soft bite slither out from between her fingers as he gathers up the soft length between his hands, gathering the excess in great loops to hang in his grip.

And just like that, she's free.

Shiryuu stands slowly. He was careful, so there wasn't much circulation disruption in her legs, though he could have pressed down on any one of a number of nerves to make sure she doesn't walk for an hour. Even so, there is stil that idle rancor in him, the energy coiled tight as he stands. Every part of him wants to ...

"...but if my fate is going to hurt you..."
He doesn't know what to believe. But it's not really fair to go on like this, is it? It's not fair to her. Every time he tries to think about what he would say, if he were still 'that person...'

All there is is grey. "...it's important to me that you protect your heart."
He wants to ...

... instead, Shiryuu walks back slowly to the window, to watch the rain.

"...you're free to go."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "..." 'I did, and it didn't.'

It took a moment for it to hit Umie, but when it did... Shiryuu may very well notice it in how her body begins to relax into a dull, tense acknowledgment.

Joker was hurt because he wasn't able to intervene, in order to keep up his vows to not killing, or letting others kill in the Phantom Thieves' presence.
And Shiryuu...

He and Joker can really be alike, in some ways, in much she sees a similarity in that cockiness, when the night is at their back and an ace is up their sleeves. Responsibility, and freedom.

She doubts either of them would feel particularly honored by her comparison.

The sound of a knife being drawn cuts the silence.

She refuses to give Shiryuu the satisfaction of fear. Even if she were going to die in the next few moments...

Her heart just needs to obey and follow along with her resolve.

'... I don't have any regrets about us.'

"...!" There's a soft inhale; Umie's body wanting to roll over and look towards Shiryuu's face...

But his hands are untying hers now, his touch unmistakable in how it gently and carefully undoes the length of cotton tying her wrists together.

And like that, she's free; she's even able to stand, much to her surprise.

Instead of him lingering by her side, he leaves, his silhouette outlined by the grey of rain as she stands up, rubbing her wrists.

'...it's important to me that you protect your heart.'
'It's easy to get in that mindset-- that something, or someone you like, is better separated from you than with you.'

Damn it, again... The words she says to Ren come to mind.

'...you're free to go.'
'I'm where I want to be.'

She takes forward a step, then another.

Part of it is selfish; she loves him. This she knows.
Another part realizes its a symptom of pain, much like how she would fling insults and accusations at Shiryuu when he was doing nothing but trying to help her.

"Tell me his name, Shiryuu." If he doesn't shrink back, she lets her shoulder brush against his and stay there, her eyes looking out into the rain.

Her fingers search for Shiryuu's, hoping to intertwine hers around his. "... Joker wanted to know his name, too. He takes his oaths seriously... a person died, and he was powerless to stop it."

And she...

"If I hadn't hesitated... Joker told me that I did the correct thing in playing it safe, but I still wonder..."

She takes in a breath and lets it flow from her mouth, low and slow. "I told Joker that the pain'll never fully go away. Not completely."

Just like she's telling Shiryuu now, by proxy, a man who has likely killed or seen the deaths of many people.

"... Sometimes... you can give everthing, and it won't be enough, to save everyone." She closes her eyes. "... That place... it was likely borne from the two of us. Our pain and wishes. What you felt there... it's probably there too, just like the feelings I felt when I recieved my Mark."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Blades of pale neon cross over him, casting, contrasting and shaping his silhouette in a reflection that wouldn't otherwise show against the city lights and grey evening skies of Shibuya. For awhile, he manages to be at peace with the decision, waiting to hear the brush of sneakers across the carpet, the curse of his name, the door shut.

He hears none of these things; his lip purses tightly in frustration.

Hands ball tight at his hips, the rack of his knuckles running from his first finger to his last, assuaging the coil of energy wound tight in him. He cuts an ambivalent stance, neither looking nor speaking up when she doesn't leave, that thread of icy silence drawing tighter by the second.

She approaches; and his shoulders stiffen, resting a hand on the windowsill under the pretense of moving. But he gets no farther -- by the time she finds his warmth, he is a ball of tension.

By the time her fingers slip between his, the hand that laces tightly with her own is holding on as if he were all but drowning.

"...Joker."

There is an edge in his voice, beyond that which he intended, beyond the authoritative declaration so oft the hammer behind his words. The recognition quickly passes.

"... the betrayal was expected," Shiryuu admits, forcing it past the lump in his throat. "There was enough in our tribute to sink the ship and then some. I should have given in to my first instinct. But ..."

He could still feel the gunmetal against the back of his neck. The fear that he felt was familiar then, a cold creep of mortal anxiety that he'd long since grown accustomed to. Dread, however, that was new.

He only felt it when he'd understood she came.

"...His name was Zakuro," Shiryuu says quietly, his voice small and terse. "An ill-fated shinobi from Nagano with a dead father and a mad mother, loyal and willing to die for a dead man. I offered him a path out..but it didn't matter."

He's distracted; his voice trails off darkly. It's hard for him to concentrate, the hold he has on her hand still snug and tight, to calm the restlessness they see. As if he could do something. As if he could really do anything at all.

"...the worst part of it is... that bullet was meant for me."

It's hard to admit without replaying the moment in his head, against the backdrop of her saying something that he's now no longer listening to, lost in her scent, and remembering what it felt like to think about losing it.

"That bullet was mine. But I was too busy..."

He was too distracted. Maybe even too distracted to care. Did he even care at all? ... was it even a capacity he had anymore? He tries to remember, and all he can feel is grey. Focus. Think about something other than the warmth of her arm against yours. Don't let the world pass you by.

"...it hurt more when I thought you'd been killed."

That place...

Ryouhara says nothing of what that hell-blasted space meant, infested with the ghosts of his past. Instead, the boy turns away from the bay, resting his weight against the sill so that he can take her hand between both of his, folding it between both of his gloved hands, that layer of protection now suddenly an anathema to him. It's a fitting focus for his attention.

"...You're afraid of being seen," Shiryuu thinks, finally.
Once she puts it like that, it's very easy to look at that mad space, and cut away every misery that was his, leaving only...

As if suddenly, painfully cognizant of it, Shiryuu focuses not on her, but solely on the shift of his gloves, the soft play of his thumbs across her skin, the space between her thumb and forefinger. It's an ironic way to not kill or interrogate her.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It'd make sense for her to leave, Umie thinks. It would be a way to politely end the potential for a relationship that may only escalate as more problems arise. Staying out of pity would be worthless, and staying out of a wish for everything to be rosy again would be even worse.

She's not here to change a man, or to soothe herself by thinking he's the 'best she can do'. She likes him because he's Shiryuu.

They're both damaged people. There's going to be some growing pains, as they, despite being 'adults', have plenty of growing up to do.

"Yes, the guy who helped me." Umie hears that edge, and chuckles in that moment, her fingers squeezing against his, eager for their touch. "I considered the possibility of me just being... overprotective. Neither of us wanted to tangle with Order matters." Her lips dip in a sour expression. "However, he knew things were going south the moment Ruin showed up. They have... history."

His first instinct. "Ruin may have been counting on that to begin with. He seized the moment when he noticed the three of us, but I don't think he planned for it."

Her eyes narrow. "It wouldn't surprise me if his Persona is of something chaotic, like mine is. But I can't even guarantee it's something as straightforward as that. Hiding your Persona like that... I didn't even know it was possible."

'His name was Zakuro.' She becomes quiet, listening to Shiryuu talk about a man she never got to fully meet, and never will.

She thinks of many things she could say, logical tidbits derived from a mind used to having to debate with herself under a dark green sky. However, while her own struggles with her past sins came in handy with helping Joker, here, it's not so much.

"Ruin is an assassin. From the sound of it, Zakuro probably knew even better than any of us what was going to happen next."

It's little comfort, to say that, as she holds onto Shiryuu's hand, listening to the rain.

"If there's anything of him in that place... I can help you bring them back." Her body tenses at the thought of encountering his remains; she takes a steady breath. "You'd think... with my persona being what it is, I'd be all about it. But seeing demons die and seeing people die... it hits different."

'...it hurt more when I thought you'd been killed.' "That's why Ruin went for me. He wanted to establish a narrative, so... I switched the battlefield and went for him emotionally. It nearly worked... but it worked too well."

She blinks when Shiryuu shifts his position, turning around so that both his hands encase hers.

'You're afraid of being seen.'

"...." Her chin bends down, suddenly aware of the bay out there, and the Nichirinmaru, somewhere further beyond.

It takes everything inside her to admit a single answer, now that Shiryuu has seen that fear manifested, written in broad enough strokes to allow Kurou to feel it as well.

"... Yes."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Shiryuu's abjectly not interested in Ruin, and it shows in the way his lips tighten, even though his response dangerously sits on the hazy, blurred line between both Ruin and Joker. "A lot of things can be hidden," the boy riles bitterly. "Don't mythologize him."

A lot can change with one phone call.

"It's going to feel dated when he's dead."

Everything feels like it hits a nerve, something raw and deep. He probably knew even better than any of us what was going to happen next, Akabane thinks. The response is immediate, as Shiryuu realizes what she's getting at. No, that's .. "Th... that's it, though," he tries to explain. "It wasn't just..." He was...

Every time he tries to say it, there is nothing but a grey wall. Shiryuu doesn't get to the rest.

"...damn it."

She's talking about it, reasoning with him, discussing it like it were a chess match. It's just like Umie Akabane, so determined to sound confident about it, reasonable. Like it didn't matter at all. She can feel the way his hands move; the rhythm of his touch grows a more anxious tempo, the urge to squeeze barely tempered by his unwillingness to hurt her. His thumb shapes the fine bones of her knuckles; the nicks and cuts of the day's shifts registered only as light vagaries under the smoothed touch of capeskin.

Even so, his reluctance is plain, the unwillingness he has to let go -- even when he gently unthreads his fingers from hers, hand on her wrist to temper the motion until they're separated, until his hands are only a suggestion against her forearms.

The boy's breathing forcibly slows, as she quiets, as the truth dreadfully apparent only to the two of them is admitted to the open air. It's not just a matter of math; he remembers her backing away, wanting to run. He remembers everything it took for them to escape the attention of 'that thing' that even he could recognize.

'Yes,' she says.

Here is when he moves: The grey-headed boy takes a slow step into her, his hands holding onto her arms to keep space between them. He isn't forceful, but firm -- he walks into her, leading her back until he can feel the edge of the bay window's frame press between her shoulderblades with a soft bump. He is gentle, but the wall is less warm than he, despite the thrum of the heater in the bones of the building.

The soft jingle of the tiny, unlatched buckles at the wrists of his gloves carry just barely over the sound of the rain with the minuscule impact.

"...then, stop."

He tells her to stop, and for a little while, the tinny buzz of the lamp that sends blades of muted neon to shape over his figure and hers is the loudest sound in the room. It is plain that Shiryuu prefers to hold her than not; his grasp idly shapes her arms beneath the sleeves of her jacket, down, then up. This close, she doesn't have to meet his eyes, only the split of his own jacket, the tough netting just underneath.

"It's not even just what we saw, in there... it's what we didn't see."
It's so like everything else Shiryuu does; a story told in what isn't.

At first, he's not talking -- his touch tells it purer. His hands are that of a trained killer's, the same as Zakuro, and perhaps worse. He can't feel her the way he'd like with his gloves on, and that small, vagabond ache drives him. It leads his touch to bury into her mantle, laying hands on her shoulders, until his thumbs slide beneath the space between her coat and her skin, as if that alone would mean he could feel her.

It doesn't help -- and madly, he never takes off his gloves.

It shouldn't matter at all. Frustrations stacked atop frustrations spur the boy's grip. If she doesn't get loose of him -- an easy affair -- he'll take her by the shoulders and bump her against the wall again. -bomp.- It's a tiny, final gesture, as if limply, vainly trying to shake any kind of sense at all into that brave, confident, powerful, infuriatingly soft woman.

He absolutely won't take off his gloves. Don't give in. "Irg," Shiryuu complains darkly, the sound coming from deep in his chest. "Why can't I stop loving you. ... dumb ... stupid ... cool ..."

His grip tightening into her jacket, the boy's hair interleaves with hers when he rests his forehead on her, pale grey and ash blonde mixing up into a tangle. All the knowledge in the world, and not a single word would help anything. It'd make sense for her to leave, he thinks. She can still go. She should. He tries to let her; it is a Sisyphean effort, but his grip loosens on her.

"Why would I ever put you in that position again..."
He won't.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'It's going to feel dated when he's dead.'

Threats of impending death aside, Shiryuu is correct. Despite how much power he exhibits, Ruin was someone who still allowed himself to walk alongside Joker in order to escape the supernatural space they were in. Somehow, they even were able to escape without him killing Joker. Maybe, they were working together the entire time, or more likely, they came to a temporary truce.

Ruin can be mad. Ruin can be affected. Ruin is lonely.

....

No need to go that far in humanizing the man.

Umie tries to walk over the facts and exert logic where her feelings can't reach; it's a natural process, to her, having to do the same with demons and dealing with Shadows, both creatures of emotion.

Emotion can mean weakness, but she is still a creature of emotion, just like the Dark Hour has shaped her life, but she is still a creature that belongs to the day.

Her confidence is as much a mask against the unknowable as her attempts at deriving logic from things that hold none. It was a senseless act of violence that took a life, and she, Shiryuu, Kurou, and Joker were all witnesses to what Ruin is capable of. If melting into the stuff of shadows is a violence of the self, this was a violence of the body, just as graphic, if moreso due to how direct it is.

The squeeze of his hands reward her with the indication to stop, to stop 'fixing' things.

There is no logic, for the things that wound them.

With a step, he has her directed against the window and its frame, the cool of it contrasting with the warmth of his clothing and body.

'...then, stop.'

"What do you think I've been trying--" The hitched, whispered objection is quieted as his hands wander over her shoulders, her arms, while reinforcing that maddening space between them.

There were more things, unseen. Rooms that haven't been visited yet. Secrets and family ghosts. But even in that room itself...

SHe's aware that there's a space left where she can leave. She could even attack him, if she wanted, her hands and arms only limited by the pressure of his hands, wandering as if attempting to smooth out those grains of frustration and emotion.

-bomp-.

She hasn't moved at all; he distance he's reinforced feels like it'd only strengthen with her attempts to close it.

'Why can't I stop loving you.' "I ask myself that too," she says, managing a sharp-edged smile, encouraged to try to close the distance--

Dumb... stupid... cool... "...?!"

Umie's eyes widen, red brown irises on full display.

"... You think I'm... cool?" That momentary shock fragments into a squinty eyed sort of incredulity. "You saw me screw up, and you're *literally* the leader of a clan of ninjas. You're always dressed nice, you smell nice, you're always able to..."

How did she manage that?!

"I ask myself that a lot, too... but it just comes easy, with you," she repeats. "You... really know how to--" Her breath races a hitch as his grip tightens and their foreheads touch, the pale grey contrasting with the tangle of false ash blonde.

SHe just lets herself get lost in that moment of closeness, up until his hands leave her.

Loosening.

She seizes her chance, her hands coming up to curl against his back, drawing him back in.

"Sorry," she whispers, her lips aiming to press against his chest. "I can steal hearts too, you know..."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
It's really the only time where the tension drains from Shiryuu.

It's maddening. The boy's black jacket rustles with the anxious hold he has on her, all wandering hands and frustrated sighs. He tries to shake it out of her, that brave little impulse of hers to not listen, to run damage control, to manage the unmanageable.

He tries to keep her back, to keep even that breath's space of distance between them, to keep the heightened tension in his bones and blood, to use it to get the point across, to warn her away. Time and time again, that's failed. Even now, as she tries to fight him, as she smiles that half-moon little smile of hers and tries to take advantage of him.

No...

She can go anywhere but closer. Anywhere but there. The leather of his gloves sound lightly against the fabric of her jacket, bound up in her sleeves. 'You think I'm cool,' she asks, incredulous.

She goes on. About his clothes, his heritage, his scent.

"-- you don't get to say things like that, ask those things," Shiryuu insists stiffly, holding her in place for as long as she's inclined.

It takes him a long time to recover, to say really anything at all.

"...you always get back up, no matter how dark it gets," the boy admits, darkly. "You remind me of the moonrise."

Even in the twist of an apple-sweet thought, his voice carries a hidden edge to it. A sharp, broken thought to be stepped on, though its exact shape and detail will be his mystery to her. His expression doesn't match hers, a thin, tight, wan little thing, as if a smile were a shape he didn't quite know how to recall. He tries to avoid falling, though his hands no longer have the inclination. She's trying to say something, but it sounds distant and faraway.

He tried, but...

This close, the scent of the rain is wild in Ryouhara, the same as his heart is a fist in his chest, by the time her kiss finds it. Soft lips encounter no resistance from the heat of his skin, even despite the diamond-link of ballistic mesh meant to protect it from far less dangerous assailants.

She can sense the lightning sensation that creeps up his spine, the young, sharp sound suppressed somewhere in his throat.

An echo of Akabane's voice rolls somewhere along the edge of his attention, fighting for dominance with the feel of her inside his jacket. An apology, he dimly recognizes.

'I can steal hearts too, you know..'

Ryouhara makes a face, halfway hidden against her hair. "That's--" he starts, vexed. "agh...you're such a mess..."

That boy takes her by the shoulders, gently rolling back her jacket, to bunch the hoodie up at her back. The shadow of him lowers into her as he leans in, to press a kiss against her temple, first; then her jawline. Down further, along every inch she cedes as he quietly plucks her jacket down her figure. There is an awkwardness to it -- as close as she is, she'll end up tied up in her sleeves before he plucks it all the way off.

But then, the press of him, all citrus and warmth, is entirely too comfortable with holding her still for long enough to shade a succession of ardent, intimate attentions down the length of her bicep, one kiss for every little tension discharged. "Just, let me..."

His whisper is lost somewhere against her.
He honestly forgets what he was going to say.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> '-- you don't get to say things like that, ask those things.' "I'll say what I want," she says, almost complusively.

With that spark of affection, in her eyes, as she comfortably pushes back, again and again.

And is only stopped when Shiryuu gives voice to those thoughts about her, and only the one that was positive, in a way she could never see in herself.

There are so many people she'd see as being cool, people she even developed crushes on, like Joker. They were also people she could never, ever approach in that light, for whatever reason.

It was only when she could begin to see them as trusted friends that she could begin to find herself as an equal, rather than simply act like one.

'...you always get back up, no matter how dark it gets.' "That's..." That rational, logical part of her wants to object, and offer the many times she nearly gave up, even just earlier. "I..."

She's speechless, in a way she wasn't when he held ending her life as a possibility.

She glances down. "... That's... just because I...."

'You remind me of the moonrise.'

"The... moonrise..."

After so many tries, Shiryuu's weapon hits its mark. Red fills Umie's cheeks, her eyes glancing to the aside.

He's driven her speechless, finally, even if his expression doesn't seem particularly triumphant.

How can he say something like this, Umie thinks. He'll win!

She'll grab victory back... by...

Something like a strategy was there, when she kissed his chest, feeling the beat of his heart. It may be the Badb in Umie who speaks the deadly little words, as his heart beats fast underneath her lips.

Shiryuu can feel the blackbird's grin against his chest, as Umie hides a cheeky smile there, before he begins to roll back her jacket.

By the fifth kiss, she decides to ignore the tally on who is winning, delivering a rain of kisses against Shiryuu's silver hair.
</poem>
[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-08-02: A Bond for Two

2026-08-09T02:47:06Z

Tanyuu: Created page with "*'''Log: A Bond for Two''' *'''Cast:''' Shiryuu Ryouhara, Umie Akabane *'''Where:''' Electric Town, Akihabara, Tokyo *'''OOC Date:''' August 02, 2026 *'''IC Date:''' December 19, 2012 *'''Summary''': ''A recent rumor about an ancient ninja princess has unearthed the Ryouharas' existence. Shiryuu wants answers, and, with Umie being newly tied to his family's bloodline, he's determined to get them, even if it breaks his heart. Now, if only Umie would act like a pro..."

*'''Log: A Bond for Two'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Shiryuu Ryouhara]], [[Umie Akabane]]
*'''Where:''' Electric Town, Akihabara, Tokyo
*'''OOC Date:''' August 02, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 19, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''A recent rumor about an ancient ninja princess has unearthed the Ryouharas' existence. Shiryuu wants answers, and, with Umie being newly tied to his family's bloodline, he's determined to get them, even if it breaks his heart. Now, if only Umie would act like a proper hostage...''

----

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> "Oh. Ah. I'm sorry," the tiny, mousy girl apologizes to Umie. "I don't usually do this kind of thing, and I could use your help...? I need to find ... ah, Cat Street? I'm supposed to be meeting a friend, there. And -- oh, I guess you should really look out for what's behind you, ne?"

'I guess there's no delaying it any longer,' he'd thought, shortly after Korozen had taken Kurou back to the apartment. Or rather, back to gridlock -- Korozen had carefully timed the trip to be caught in some small amount of evening traffic. Nothing so telling so as to let Kurou know anything, but there was a task to accomplish, right?

'After, bring her to me,' the shihaisha had said, and Korozen was obliged to comply, as a neutral party to the matter. Of course, the shihaisha is cruel.

'Korozen. If she's hurt, I'll scatter your bones across the moon.'

Ah, Shirogarasu is so dramatic, sometimes. But he bows in acquiescence anyway. It's nothing a distraction and a rag soaked in isoflurane can't solve. Or at the least, such is how Korozen's decided to phrase it to Shikon and Asagi. Shikon, of course, was very, very excited about the prospect of meeting this mysterious new ninja princess Akabane that's gotten the eye of the head of the clan. Unfortunately, she's not as good a decoy as Asagi. Oh well. On with the show! And probably a black bag!

Umie would be summarily decoyed, drugged and kidnapped wholesale, stuffed unceremoniouly into the back of a waiting K-truck loaded up with a crate labelled 'VOLATILE - KEEP WARM.' It's probably not necessary to smuggle her in on a laundry cart to the Hotel Indigo, but it'll make things an awful lot smoother. They can't afford her being awake enough to start fighting. If they have to fight her, it's definitely going to be a problem for the mission parameters.

So. The likelihood of Umie being tied up and being carried in with the unmentionables is high. Ideally, she'll end up in his room black bagged and tied snugly to a chair. "SHE'S SO PRETTY," Shikon just about yells at Shiryuu the moment the door is closed. "You _know_ what Ai-pyon is going to say if she sees her!!"

"...take off that bag and get out," Shiryuu says, looking out the window grimly. Absent a clear view of his mien pressed tight, his black outfit does a whole lot of the heavy lifting in portraying exactly how entirely, deeply unimpressed he is by the whole situation from the back to the front. It's a kidnapping, not a marriage proposal..
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Mm?" Umie, having come off her shift at Le Chat Marron, looks over at the tiny(ier than her, even!) mousy girl. "Yeah, just go down--"

The way to sneak up on someone who, in another set of circumstances, could be difficult to sneak up on, is simple: You just need to catch her outside of an area where she can use her Persona, and even if she was in such a space, all you need is to not have a resonance.

These are the perils of not being a full-fledged anti-navigator.

To be fair to Umie, the moment the mousy points out the need to look behind her, the blonde acted... completely normally, because she was technically in a public place, albiet briefly out of view of any people that would complicate Operation Kidnap Girlfriend.

Which is why...

----

... They were right to be careful; that label of 'VOLATILE' would be put to good use if Umie happened to wake up.

And indeed, there is a certain beauty to that seemingly peaceful look on Umie's face, as she's secured. (You'll just have to ignore the bit of drool.)

"... Mmmn.... mnh...." Umie stirs restlessly, as the effects of the isoflurane begin to wear off. Like a pet cat coming home from the vet, she'll begin moving in her chair, that heavy head wobbling around as she has trouble understanding exactly why she can't get up.

It'll only escalate from there; Umie has no special abilities to recover any faster than any normal person, but she makes up for it in pure obstinance.

And maybe a bit of sick from the isoflurane, which she seems to just not care about as she tries to figure out why the chair is not letting her get up.

Hm. Where was she again? Why'd she fall asleep? What was she doing?

What time is it? Where is she?
Why's her head heavy?

Screw this chair. This chair is annoying.

"The'snext train's leaving.... fonna mess it..."

She's not noticed Shiryuu there yet, but she's definitely getting riled up.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

He is at the very least patient.

The room is only dimly lit, the natural overhead lights dimmed as tiny neon beams crawl across the walls, ceiling and floor. The source being that sole lamp, propped up not too far from his laptop. It's been opened, and there's a little web graphic: A crude rendition of the three leaves symbol of the Ryouhara, shamefully replicated by what must have been a four year old with the wrong kind of shareware access to a paint app. Above it, in thick Impact font: SECRET WARLORD PRINCESS? HIDDEN FAMILY'S SCANDAL!

Shiryuu's pointedly ignoring it. Instead, the on-and-off drizzling of the rain outside is taking up the whole of his attention, being the only audible sound in the sprawling and sparse room. It's still stripped bare, but the little table is still present, just moved to an extreme end of the room, with the chairs conspicuously missing.

The one Umie's currently tied to was stolen from the lounge. It's only mildly comfortable, and only because Shikon insisted on picking out 'just the right one for Blonde-pyon's butt,' while Asagi fretted about the isoflurane wearing off too soon. Don't these supralunar people have super resistance power like that??

A tiny snif, as Shiryuu's head drops, low and to the side, as if inclined to look at Umie as she stirs, but never following through with it.

"You're drooling, Akabane..."
Despite not looking, his senses are far above par, comparably. Or his memory? This isn't the sort of question one should be thinking about when one is tied to a chair. Especially not with a pretty double column knot of soft blue cotton rope around your wrists.

(Asagi tied it, and Shikon is never going to let her forget it.)

His black gloves are sitting on the windowsill now, as both his hands are shoved into his pockets. He's still wearing quite a few layers of clothing in those shades of black, but he's comparably dressed down -- his back is still blazoned with the same symbol that's on the news post on his laptop, though the clarity of imagery is the same as the noonday sun to a candle. It's a loose type of house jacket, and the boy is still wearing an eyepatch, though most of his linen bindings have left with the accursed hospital.

"Hnn. Get ahold of yourself," he tells her, as if giving orders will make her recovery any quicker. "You're too tough to be drugged for that long."

It has nothing to do with the fact he itches to go get her a handkerchief. His eyes narrow in cold annoyance at the compulsion. It's more important that he stay focused.

"Listen up," he says, after a beat.

"It's important, this time. Not that you were intending on telling me about this anytime soon, I'm guessing."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> How could someone so small and petite be that affected by something like this?

Red brown irises make a serious attempt to focus on the thick Impact font and its words.

Secret warlord princess. Huh. That sounds... familiar...

Whatever else she would've thought is instead taken up by how heavy her head is feeling, right now.

'You're drooling, Akabane.'

"Some kind of weird idea of a date..." Umie mumbles, as she keeps moving.

She's rather persistant about it, too, jerking around and twisting her wrists around, refusing to quit from her chosen goal.
Or to ask for help, for that matter.

'You're too tough to be drugged for that long.'

"Get close enough n' I'll plant a foot straight up that nose of yers..." Umie, that doesn't even correlate to what Shiryuu was even talking about, what

She's frustrated, but she's not going to give Shiryuu the satisfaction of asking for help, or even acknowledge that the situation is out of the ordinary for him... well, in regards to her.

'It's important, this time.'
'Not that you were intending on telling me about this anytime soon, I'm guessing.'

Don't let him win, Umie. You're so close. Just twist your wrists like so and tense up, and then!! .... wait what--

"Hua-umph!" With a sudden rip, a flop, and a thud of a body, the chair becomes unoccupied.

However, the pretty knot of blue cotton fabric is holding firm, and this is not a supralunar zone. So what, exactly, is Umie doing?

She's inchworming her way towards Shiryuu now, with steely determination, and no question of what exactly she's going to do when she gets there.

Just that he needs to learn a lesson about casually kidnapping people he supposedly likes.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Did she just threaten him?

"Alright, banchou Popeye..."

He surmises, perhaps correctly, that Umie is still drugged, and so ignores whatever she was saying she was going to do with her foot in such rowdy terms. The grey-haired shihaisha thinks, shaking his head at an idea that must have just occurred to him. Hands slide out of his pockets, as the shinobi folds his arms.

"It doesn't matter," Shiryuu thinks aloud.

A small clatter arises behind him, and the boy looks over his shoulder, arms still folded. A short, sharp chirp of alarm raises in the back of his throat as he sees the chair on the ground, Akabane getting (kind of) free in record time, which is infuriating enough that a silver sprig sticks straight up on Shiryuu's head as he flashes his teeth.

"_urrrhhhhh_" the shihaisha roars tinily at her, "Why are you bad at even being a good hostage!!"

It takes all of Shiryuu's will not to demand Umie get back in the chair at once. It would do no good.

She needs to learn a lesson about taking being kidnapped seriously.

Gathering his gloves, Ryouhara turns on a heel briskly, with a tiny sigh. "All of you are terrible at listening," he thinks, padding towards the offending blonde inchworm.

"It's like I said, I won't let you get away with any funny business this time," Shiryuu tells Umie in no uncertain terms. She might have the advantage right now if it came to Persona, but currently, the moon is a long ways away.

Shiryuu does peer at the suspiciously elaborate knotwork keeping his person's wrists tied together for a few seconds longer than is strictly necessary. She's very good at wiggling.

Focus, Shirogarasu.

"Anyway..."

Ryouhara is not going to put up with much more of this inchworming action -- he's going to stride alongside her nimbly, before leaning down and taking a seat. Right on the back of Akabane's thighs, to put a stop to the entire industry of whatever it is she thinks she's doing right now. The boy pulls his gloves back on slowly one at a time as he thinks on it.

"...you're going to aggravate your injuries," Shiryuu tells her, noncommittally and definitely not caring at all. It's just that.. "If I have to resort to enhanced interrogation to get at what I need to know, you need to be at your full strength or you'll perish."

"But..." Shiryuu points out, raising a finger where she can see exactly none of it. "If you give in easily, maybe I can just promise you safe passage to Shanghai, where you can start a new life and I won't have to destroy you utterly." He frowns about this.

"So question the first." Shiryuu rests his fist in his hand, elbows on his knees.

"What are your intentions towards the Ryouhara clan?" Stare. Flat, tight expression.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It seems that all Shiryuu is doing is activating whatever instincts are in the blonde to fiercely rebel against his authority, shining like a beam of light through that drugged fog.

"You don't *deserve* a good hostage!!" Umie grunts, as she inchworms over towards Shiryuu. "Violating my trust... you deserve every second of this!!" Unfortunately, the only thing that is being highlighted is that stubborn lack of future planning, just someone forcing a path open through every means they have.
.... even if that path's end is not one they have defined in their mind, as she wiggles fiercely. Wiggle wiggle wiggle.

There may be a satisfying 'eep' as Shiryuu's weight on the back of her thighs. It's not really a painful 'eep', however, as Umie's craning her head downward to hide the flush of red on her cheeks.

Focus, Umie. You can't let some simple bit of pressure make you cave in to... whatever this is about.

---ah, right, cave into 'being a proper hostage', thank you, Shiryuu.

'...you're going to aggravate your injuries.' "Oh, you care *now*?!"
'If I have to resort to enhanced interrogation to get at what I need to know, you need to be at your full strength or you'll perish.' "And I'll die of embarrassment, as everyone who told me 'this is really not smart' or 'he's dangerous' gets to shake their finger at me for following my heart instead of my mind!"
'If you give in easily, maybe I can just promise you safe passage to Shanghai, where you can start a new life and I won't have to destroy you utterly.' "If I was ever going to do that, I'm definitely not doing it now." Hooray, Shiryuu doesn't have to ship her to Shanghai!

She's just getting angrier. Shiryuu can feel it, underneath him.

'So question the first. What are your intentions towards the Ryouhara clan?'

Her attempts at wiggling stop.

".... You ask me that..."

It's like a tensing spring; Shiryuu can see the peek of that black Mark on the inside of her right wrist, where the sleeve was pulled back from her earlier struggles.

".... after I starred down a barrel trying to make sure you weren't assassinated..." She's trying to cock an eyebrow at Shiryuu, but while she can be flexible, she is hardly the sort of contortionist needed to perform this particular stunt. "Or did you really think I was trying to come on to _Ruin_, of all people?"

She sees a pair of tabi socks peek from under the hem of those red robes of little Maihime, the small girl bending down until her black hair pools around her own head.
Mocking, but also reminding her with little whispers of what she could do to reverse this.

Just use that Mark, and...

"My intention was to be the bond of a stubborn idiot," Umie says, instead. "Because that's the thing we have in common. How else could you explain it? We were trying to kill each other the first time we met."

"If it was all a lie, in the end," she murmurs, trying to remain conscious of Shiryuu's presence (rather than the sensation of little fingers tracing down her back), "it was a pleasant one."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
"_I_ told you I was dangerous."

Shiryuu's weight is warm and sure -- he has no trouble pinning her down with just enough and not too much. It's in the gentle pitch of his weight against his thighs to move his center of gravity just so; making sure he doesn't quite cut off the circulation in her legs, but just enough to keep her in one place.

The boy if nothing else has exquisite balance. He won't fall, no matter how hard she tries. He just has to let her wiggle herself out, not look, and not think about what Shikon or Asagi would say, and hopefully they're not -spying.-

Mm. Shiryuu would contemplate the wisdom of letting Korozen arrange for the one whose ninkou can hear through half the floor before interrogating his girlfriend. But the thought is dismissed as quickly as it appears.

It's not like that.. right?
Remember Shiryuu. You're just a mark...

His fingers roll -- one fist unravelling to nimbly interlace his gloved fingers together, the bridge resting just under his chin. It's strange -- the boy is customarily overdressed for the warmth of the room, with his outer jacket buttoned all the way up to the height of his neck. All those layers, and still his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, baring the length of his arms before the cuffs of his gloves.

Being under repairs, Juurishojin is absent. He is well aware of her ability, and the boy acidly watches her struggle with it. Unlike her, he has no mark. His supralunar power wasn't awakened by trauma, or disaster, or force, or conspiracy.

The only thing he has on his arms is a little tied bit of braiding about one wrist.

'Or did you really think I was trying to come on to _Ruin,_ of all people?' -- Shiryuu's expression tightens immediately, his eyes narrowing. The strike of his response, and the sudden spike of heat in his voice is telling. He wasn't thinking about it until she brought it up, just now. "Were you?"

Ugh... don't let her get to you. "...I guess it doesn't matter either."

He sets his jaw, and take a sharp breath. She said something about how everyone told her not to trust him, that she'll never give in. "You're just going to make it harder on yourself," Shiryuu shakes his head. "The loss of any of our family wounds me, but..."

He's about to say something else, when she says it was a lie.

"...no, it wasn't a lie," Shiryuu thinks, quietly.

The boy's touch chases new sensation along the small of her back, the walk of his fingertips along the line of Akabane's spine a precursor to the onmitsu telling himself he was taking the measure of her willingness to attack still -- whether he'd have to fight her, even now. His gloved hand raises from her, darkly.

"...but since that night ... maybe there's not enough of me left for anything like that," he thinks quietly, but is unwilling to explain any further.

... hrnm.

Shiryuu breathes, leaving her to her ruminating. It's up to him to put this on the right track. "Even weakened, it'd be foolish of me to take you at your word, when our bonds are by blood and not by our l..." .. he frowns.

"...second question."
He changes the subject.

"If you, like me, are descended from the main house, who's your handler? You'll have had a co-conspirator to be able to expose us to this degree."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Damn it, Umie. Why do you feel comfort in his presence still? His warmth?

"So's a speeding train," Umie murmurs. "So's a bullet. Yet I still..." Yet she still fell in love with him, and he with her. The danger could have helped, but what especially helped was the fact that there was nothing she had to hide from him about herself.

It was already known and labeled. The rest, she admitted, because of the grace he gave her.

.... And the warmth he held, when she let herself fall asleep against him.

Focus, Umie, don't let him win.

"Of course n--" '... i guess it doesn't matter either.' "..." The energy of Umie's body twists at that; those words hurt, in some way, even if Shiryuu can't see her face.

'You're just going to make it harder on yourself.' "Don't lie; you like that."
'The loss of any of our family wounds me, but...' "... eh?"

He... believes those rumors?

'No, it wasn't a lie,' he says.

Even if her brain tries to read Shiryuu's fingers as more of the same that plagued her, her body remembers them well, shivering at his touch.

'... maybe there's not enough of me left for anything like that.' "Is that what you tell yourself?" she says, quietly.

'Even if our bonds are by blood and not by our l...'

Much like she did in battle, that smallest opening is what Umie immediately sets on.

"I don't fall in love with ghosts, Shiryuu." It's easier to admit it, when it's not direct.

"... But I expected more out of you, than to fall to rumors. Is that all the Order needs to do, to get you back in line?"

Umie stills. "It's the only explanation. Even if you look, there'll be sudden records of it, even if there weren't any before. It's no different than rumors of fast running grannies or stores suddenly selling weaponry."

The price of anything becoming involved with her is ruin. Kurou could be in another room being accused of the same things, right now, and she'd have no way of knowing.

But, as she said to Akechi, isn't it better to resist, and at least give whatever is watching a good show?

Her fingers tighten. "I have no 'retainer', and there is no 'house'. I know who I am, and _I'm Umie Akabane_."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

'You like that.' What does that even mean? Shiryuu almost lets his immediate thought slip, mouthing the words to himself incredulously, a white hot surge of -- something adjacent to annoyance -- flaring up in the back of his neck.

It's starting to get warm, he thinks, slighting his weight slightly on her. It's in rough comparison and contrast to her own energy, coiled like a viper.

"... I thought that it'd be fine."

Part of him is loathe to lift his hand, abandoning the soothing sensation of her warmth and scent, and it takes a long time for Shiryuu to decide if it's really what he wants to do. It's not -- but he lifts his hand anyway.

"No matter what happened to my spirit, or how much 'color' I lost. It would be fine, if you were safe," the boy admits coldly, each word successively more divorced of weakness and methodical, as if reason were his beacon. "If everyone were safe. Someone who protects everyone who stands behind him. That's what a 'shihaisha' is."

"But...it didn't change anything," he thinks, almost too quiet to hear, just before he's --

"Tch," his response is immediate when she suggests that the Order is at the root of it. "The unheld legacy of Megumi Ryouhara is not a -- fast granny --" he objects at once, speaking fast before managing to rein himself in, mid-sentence. His voice drops an octave.

"....I'm not someone you should lie to."

The seams of his gloves make the softest creak as his weight shifts across her thighs, as his palms meet. "I am the cold wind that rolls down Iizuna," he tells her, in no uncertain terms. "The purest blood of the noblest house, whose truth and right are legitimized both above and below the moon. I am the judgment that scatters the mists, and the cherished blade promised to the lost. I am the slayer of tyrants, the sword of Akita, the grey law of light, and the epitaph of our lost children. Lie to me, and see all deception punctured instantly."

"If anyone tries to bring my family to 'ruin...' even the shadow of Orihime's loom won't fall far enough for that person to escape my justice."

There is a harsh, unyielding energy in the grey-haired boy, stalking and restless and angry and wild. No matter how little he moves, she can feel it in the way she shifts alongside her, the way he responds slow and measured to her words, the wound-tight tension in every fiber of him. Motionless and heated, his restlessness is tied tight by a thread of relentless logic.

"The Ryouhara clan has used 'Kotodama' before," he tells her. "It is not a simple happenstance. It is not an 'oops.' It has a source. An actor, and an author. That is for reason and cause, neither of which 'they' have, knowing what is known -- they _don't_ want me to kill you. A kotodama that exposes us doesn't help that."

The idea dismissed out of hand, Shiryuu shakes his head.

"So, 'Umie Akabane.' Question the third, now that you know that your bones are the price for lying."

Slowly, he tilts his head back, and lets a smooth, unsteady breath roll out of his chest. His eye lids, his other hidden eye burning harshly will ill distrust. She said she doesn't fall in love with ghosts..

But if that's all he is...

"....was there ever even one time that you actually loved me?"

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
She hates the conflicting reactions of her body; Mai-chan is clearly taunting her by making it seem like Shiryuu is touching her.

'It would be fine, if you were safe.' "Did you ever ask yourself what would happen, if you died?"

The anger that coils up underneath Shiryuu seems to be just as feverish at Shiryuu's manner of talking about himself, as it was when it was talking about her. "You think the other members of the clan would let Kurou Ryouhara-kun stay with me? Or hell, you think they'd be happy to let me walk around?"

'... But...it didn't change anything.'

A bit of her heart breaks for him, knowing some of where those words can come from. But her mind knows where constantly assuaging those feelings can go.

"It didn't change you into that person, like you thought it would." She lets a long, weary sigh spill from her. "Am I getting close?"

'The unheld legacy of Megumi Ryouhara is not a...' "A 'legacy' that popped out of nowhere!!" Umie hisses back. "Just like Junnosuke Kuroda and the others!"

'....I'm not someone you should lie to.' "And I'm not someone who takes kindly to _threats_."

How is she still wiggling? It's like she's only been tightening her resolve.

'Lie to me, and see all deception punctured instantly.'

There is a silence, after Shiryuu's speech. Heat collects in Umie's cheeks. To be lectured like this, because of a stupid rumor...

Don't let him win, Umie.

"... Are you done yet?" she asks, quietly.

'If anyone tries to bring my family to 'ruin...''

"Why would I make a rumor that leads back to me." Anger answers anger. "If I were to target a rumor towards a secret clan of shinobi, why would I highlight something that changes *my* history, when I couldn't even modify a rumor to protect my co-workers?!"

'Was there ever even one time that you actually loved me?'

The answer is easy, if she answered with her heart. Her mind, however... where would it stop?

"If you have to ask, like that..." Umie says, "you'll probably keep asking, no matter what I tell you. Especially if I told you the truth."

'Maybe he'll let you live, if you tell him what he wants to hear~ Or will you grovel and beg him for his love?' Mai-chan giggles, wooden sandles clipping against the carpet as she moves with an ease and grace not normal for a girl around the hotel room. 'A beautiful, tragic end to a beautiful, tragic love story...'

"When I realized I was never going to see you, again," Umie admits, through clenched teeth. "That I could miss you."

She hears a child's mocking laughter spiral out into an endless echo. "That you could die, and it'd hurt me!! Even when you came back!"

She lets her head hang, her nose pressed against the carpet. "What use is a clan to me? I just wanted you and Kurou in my life."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
She holds him to account.

"...yeah," the boy replies, his hair flowing down and dropping awkwardly over his eyes again, twisted in strange ways to make room for the strap holding his eyepatch to his face. Kyotosaigan was still a hole in his face, a gaping, angry, unattended curtain of black obscuring half of his vision. And despite everything it was easy like this, to look into the past, and see how much was truly missing. He doesn't even feel the ache anymore.

"I did, and it didn't."

An image of Zakuro flashes through his mind, just before his lifeless body hit the deckboards.

Shiryuu never explains. Part of him tries to find fault in what she's saying, in anything she's said thus far. She can feel the weight of the onmitsu's attention, that pacing energy studying her intensely, each and every movement, every breath, every sound.

It would be easy to say that he's watching her like a hawk for any sign of dishonesty, for betrayal. It would be.

'Are you done yet?' "Mmm."

Non-committal, and as neutral as the gleam of the light across the winter ice, Shiryuu falls silent for a time, filling the space between them with piercing silence for her to fill at her leisure. Instead of his breath, she can only hear the sound of rustled fabric as the boy leans back, unbuttoning his overjacket down the collar from the neck, and working to undo each tie with muted snaps of tiny steel latchbuttons with one hand. Underneath is his undershirt, a cross-cross of wire combat netting. Once the split gets to the top of his solar plexus, he slides a slender hand into the dark within.

The sound of a knife against fabric is unmistakable in the quiet. A pretty, dark-hilted thing, polished mirror smooth with the woodgrain showing as wispy grey and black, with muted pewter fittings. A straight kataha-style blade, not a disposable kunai.

It takes him what feels like forever to consider her first words. She tells him that he'll never stop asking, as a pretense for evading the question. A white hot offense burns in his stomach. wants to argue with her, to counter that there are plenty of reasons why she would betray him, why things would have fallen exactly the way they have now.

He wants to fight her. But it doesn't matter.

'I just wanted you and Kurou in my life.'

He blinks once, twice. Angrily, he presses a thumb into his remaining eye, wiping aggressively with the knife flipped down in his hand. Damn it. This girl. He takes a sharp breath, gathering his wits. "...I.."

"...despite everything ... even knowing everything it cost ... I don't have any regrets about us."

The knife slams into the carpet, and sticks there, as Shiryuu buries it firmly there instead of in Umie's back, instead of under her jawline.

In comparison, his gloved touch is gentle, sliding between her palms and into the thick cotton ropes holding her wrists together. One loop around another as he finds the working ends, pulling out the tension and unspooling the lines around her wrists with both hands. She'll feel that soft bite slither out from between her fingers as he gathers up the soft length between his hands, gathering the excess in great loops to hang in his grip.

And just like that, she's free.

Shiryuu stands slowly. He was careful, so there wasn't much circulation disruption in her legs, though he could have pressed down on any one of a number of nerves to make sure she doesn't walk for an hour. Even so, there is stil that idle rancor in him, the energy coiled tight as he stands. Every part of him wants to ...

"...but if my fate is going to hurt you..."
He doesn't know what to believe. But it's not really fair to go on like this, is it? It's not fair to her. Every time he tries to think about what he would say, if he were still 'that person...'

All there is is grey. "...it's important to me that you protect your heart."
He wants to ...

... instead, Shiryuu walks back slowly to the window, to watch the rain.

"...you're free to go."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "..." 'I did, and it didn't.'

It took a moment for it to hit Umie, but when it did... Shiryuu may very well notice it in how her body begins to relax into a dull, tense acknowledgment.

Joker was hurt because he wasn't able to intervene, in order to keep up his vows to not killing, or letting others kill in the Phantom Thieves' presence.
And Shiryuu...

He and Joker can really be alike, in some ways, in much she sees a similarity in that cockiness, when the night is at their back and an ace is up their sleeves. Responsibility, and freedom.

She doubts either of them would feel particularly honored by her comparison.

The sound of a knife being drawn cuts the silence.

She refuses to give Shiryuu the satisfaction of fear. Even if she were going to die in the next few moments...

Her heart just needs to obey and follow along with her resolve.

'... I don't have any regrets about us.'

"...!" There's a soft inhale; Umie's body wanting to roll over and look towards Shiryuu's face...

But his hands are untying hers now, his touch unmistakable in how it gently and carefully undoes the length of cotton tying her wrists together.

And like that, she's free; she's even able to stand, much to her surprise.

Instead of him lingering by her side, he leaves, his silhouette outlined by the grey of rain as she stands up, rubbing her wrists.

'...it's important to me that you protect your heart.'
'It's easy to get in that mindset-- that something, or someone you like, is better separated from you than with you.'

Damn it, again... The words she says to Ren come to mind.

'...you're free to go.'
'I'm where I want to be.'

She takes forward a step, then another.

Part of it is selfish; she loves him. This she knows.
Another part realizes its a symptom of pain, much like how she would fling insults and accusations at Shiryuu when he was doing nothing but trying to help her.

"Tell me his name, Shiryuu." If he doesn't shrink back, she lets her shoulder brush against his and stay there, her eyes looking out into the rain.

Her fingers search for Shiryuu's, hoping to intertwine hers around his. "... Joker wanted to know his name, too. He takes his oaths seriously... a person died, and he was powerless to stop it."

And she...

"If I hadn't hesitated... Joker told me that I did the correct thing in playing it safe, but I still wonder..."

She takes in a breath and lets it flow from her mouth, low and slow. "I told Joker that the pain'll never fully go away. Not completely."

Just like she's telling Shiryuu now, by proxy, a man who has likely killed or seen the deaths of many people.

"... Sometimes... you can give everthing, and it won't be enough, to save everyone." She closes her eyes. "... That place... it was likely borne from the two of us. Our pain and wishes. What you felt there... it's probably there too, just like the feelings I felt when I recieved my Mark."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Blades of pale neon cross over him, casting, contrasting and shaping his silhouette in a reflection that wouldn't otherwise show against the city lights and grey evening skies of Shibuya. For awhile, he manages to be at peace with the decision, waiting to hear the brush of sneakers across the carpet, the curse of his name, the door shut.

He hears none of these things; his lip purses tightly in frustration.

Hands ball tight at his hips, the rack of his knuckles running from his first finger to his last, assuaging the coil of energy wound tight in him. He cuts an ambivalent stance, neither looking nor speaking up when she doesn't leave, that thread of icy silence drawing tighter by the second.

She approaches; and his shoulders stiffen, resting a hand on the windowsill under the pretense of moving. But he gets no farther -- by the time she finds his warmth, he is a ball of tension.

By the time her fingers slip between his, the hand that laces tightly with her own is holding on as if he were all but drowning.

"...Joker."

There is an edge in his voice, beyond that which he intended, beyond the authoritative declaration so oft the hammer behind his words. The recognition quickly passes.

"... the betrayal was expected," Shiryuu admits, forcing it past the lump in his throat. "There was enough in our tribute to sink the ship and then some. I should have given in to my first instinct. But ..."

He could still feel the gunmetal against the back of his neck. The fear that he felt was familiar then, a cold creep of mortal anxiety that he'd long since grown accustomed to. Dread, however, that was new.

He only felt it when he'd understood she came.

"...His name was Zakuro," Shiryuu says quietly, his voice small and terse. "An ill-fated shinobi from Nagano with a dead father and a mad mother, loyal and willing to die for a dead man. I offered him a path out..but it didn't matter."

He's distracted; his voice trails off darkly. It's hard for him to concentrate, the hold he has on her hand still snug and tight, to calm the restlessness they see. As if he could do something. As if he could really do anything at all.

"...the worst part of it is... that bullet was meant for me."

It's hard to admit without replaying the moment in his head, against the backdrop of her saying something that he's now no longer listening to, lost in her scent, and remembering what it felt like to think about losing it.

"That bullet was mine. But I was too busy..."

He was too distracted. Maybe even too distracted to care. Did he even care at all? ... was it even a capacity he had anymore? He tries to remember, and all he can feel is grey. Focus. Think about something other than the warmth of her arm against yours. Don't let the world pass you by.

"...it hurt more when I thought you'd been killed."

That place...

Ryouhara says nothing of what that hell-blasted space meant, infested with the ghosts of his past. Instead, the boy turns away from the bay, resting his weight against the sill so that he can take her hand between both of his, folding it between both of his gloved hands, that layer of protection now suddenly an anathema to him. It's a fitting focus for his attention.

"...You're afraid of being seen," Shiryuu thinks, finally.
Once she puts it like that, it's very easy to look at that mad space, and cut away every misery that was his, leaving only...

As if suddenly, painfully cognizant of it, Shiryuu focuses not on her, but solely on the shift of his gloves, the soft play of his thumbs across her skin, the space between her thumb and forefinger. It's an ironic way to not kill or interrogate her.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
It'd make sense for her to leave, Umie thinks. It would be a way to politely end the potential for a relationship that may only escalate as more problems arise. Staying out of pity would be worthless, and staying out of a wish for everything to be rosy again would be even worse.

She's not here to change a man, or to soothe herself by thinking he's the 'best she can do'. She likes him because he's Shiryuu.

They're both damaged people. There's going to be some growing pains, as they, despite being 'adults', have plenty of growing up to do.

"Yes, the guy who helped me." Umie hears that edge, and chuckles in that moment, her fingers squeezing against his, eager for their touch. "I considered the possibility of me just being... overprotective. Neither of us wanted to tangle with Order matters." Her lips dip in a sour expression. "However, he knew things were going south the moment Ruin showed up. They have... history."

His first instinct. "Ruin may have been counting on that to begin with. He seized the moment when he noticed the three of us, but I don't think he planned for it."

Her eyes narrow. "It wouldn't surprise me if his Persona is of something chaotic, like mine is. But I can't even guarantee it's something as straightforward as that. Hiding your Persona like that... I didn't even know it was possible."

'His name was Zakuro.' She becomes quiet, listening to Shiryuu talk about a man she never got to fully meet, and never will.

She thinks of many things she could say, logical tidbits derived from a mind used to having to debate with herself under a dark green sky. However, while her own struggles with her past sins came in handy with helping Joker, here, it's not so much.

"Ruin is an assassin. From the sound of it, Zakuro probably knew even better than any of us what was going to happen next."

It's little comfort, to say that, as she holds onto Shiryuu's hand, listening to the rain.

"If there's anything of him in that place... I can help you bring them back." Her body tenses at the thought of encountering his remains; she takes a steady breath. "You'd think... with my persona being what it is, I'd be all about it. But seeing demons die and seeing people die... it hits different."

'...it hurt more when I thought you'd been killed.' "That's why Ruin went for me. He wanted to establish a narrative, so... I switched the battlefield and went for him emotionally. It nearly worked... but it worked too well."

She blinks when Shiryuu shifts his position, turning around so that both his hands encase hers.

'You're afraid of being seen.'

"...." Her chin bends down, suddenly aware of the bay out there, and the Nichirinmaru, somewhere further beyond.

It takes everything inside her to admit a single answer, now that Shiryuu has seen that fear manifested, written in broad enough strokes to allow Kurou to feel it as well.

"... Yes."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Shiryuu's abjectly not interested in Ruin, and it shows in the way his lips tighten, even though his response dangerously sits on the hazy, blurred line between both Ruin and Joker. "A lot of things can be hidden," the boy riles bitterly. "Don't mythologize him."

A lot can change with one phone call.

"It's going to feel dated when he's dead."

Everything feels like it hits a nerve, something raw and deep. He probably knew even better than any of us what was going to happen next, Akabane thinks. The response is immediate, as Shiryuu realizes what she's getting at. No, that's .. "Th... that's it, though," he tries to explain. "It wasn't just..." He was...

Every time he tries to say it, there is nothing but a grey wall. Shiryuu doesn't get to the rest.

"...damn it."

She's talking about it, reasoning with him, discussing it like it were a chess match. It's just like Umie Akabane, so determined to sound confident about it, reasonable. Like it didn't matter at all. She can feel the way his hands move; the rhythm of his touch grows a more anxious tempo, the urge to squeeze barely tempered by his unwillingness to hurt her. His thumb shapes the fine bones of her knuckles; the nicks and cuts of the day's shifts registered only as light vagaries under the smoothed touch of capeskin.

Even so, his reluctance is plain, the unwillingness he has to let go -- even when he gently unthreads his fingers from hers, hand on her wrist to temper the motion until they're separated, until his hands are only a suggestion against her forearms.

The boy's breathing forcibly slows, as she quiets, as the truth dreadfully apparent only to the two of them is admitted to the open air. It's not just a matter of math; he remembers her backing away, wanting to run. He remembers everything it took for them to escape the attention of 'that thing' that even he could recognize.

'Yes,' she says.

Here is when he moves: The grey-headed boy takes a slow step into her, his hands holding onto her arms to keep space between them. He isn't forceful, but firm -- he walks into her, leading her back until he can feel the edge of the bay window's frame press between her shoulderblades with a soft bump. He is gentle, but the wall is less warm than he, despite the thrum of the heater in the bones of the building.

The soft jingle of the tiny, unlatched buckles at the wrists of his gloves carry just barely over the sound of the rain with the minuscule impact.

"...then, stop."

He tells her to stop, and for a little while, the tinny buzz of the lamp that sends blades of muted neon to shape over his figure and hers is the loudest sound in the room. It is plain that Shiryuu prefers to hold her than not; his grasp idly shapes her arms beneath the sleeves of her jacket, down, then up. This close, she doesn't have to meet his eyes, only the split of his own jacket, the tough netting just underneath.

"It's not even just what we saw, in there... it's what we didn't see."
It's so like everything else Shiryuu does; a story told in what isn't.

At first, he's not talking -- his touch tells it purer. His hands are that of a trained killer's, the same as Zakuro, and perhaps worse. He can't feel her the way he'd like with his gloves on, and that small, vagabond ache drives him. It leads his touch to bury into her mantle, laying hands on her shoulders, until his thumbs slide beneath the space between her coat and her skin, as if that alone would mean he could feel her.

It doesn't help -- and madly, he never takes off his gloves.

It shouldn't matter at all. Frustrations stacked atop frustrations spur the boy's grip. If she doesn't get loose of him -- an easy affair -- he'll take her by the shoulders and bump her against the wall again. -bomp.- It's a tiny, final gesture, as if limply, vainly trying to shake any kind of sense at all into that brave, confident, powerful, infuriatingly soft woman.

He absolutely won't take off his gloves. Don't give in. "Irg," Shiryuu complains darkly, the sound coming from deep in his chest. "Why can't I stop loving you. ... dumb ... stupid ... cool ..."

His grip tightening into her jacket, the boy's hair interleaves with hers when he rests his forehead on her, pale grey and ash blonde mixing up into a tangle. All the knowledge in the world, and not a single word would help anything. It'd make sense for her to leave, he thinks. She can still go. She should. He tries to let her; it is a Sisyphean effort, but his grip loosens on her.

"Why would I ever put you in that position again..."
He won't.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'It's going to feel dated when he's dead.'

Threats of impending death aside, Shiryuu is correct. Despite how much power he exhibits, Ruin was someone who still allowed himself to walk alongside Joker in order to escape the supernatural space they were in. Somehow, they even were able to escape without him killing Joker. Maybe, they were working together the entire time, or more likely, they came to a temporary truce.

Ruin can be mad. Ruin can be affected. Ruin is lonely.

....

No need to go that far in humanizing the man.

Umie tries to walk over the facts and exert logic where her feelings can't reach; it's a natural process, to her, having to do the same with demons and dealing with Shadows, both creatures of emotion.

Emotion can mean weakness, but she is still a creature of emotion, just like the Dark Hour has shaped her life, but she is still a creature that belongs to the day.

Her confidence is as much a mask against the unknowable as her attempts at deriving logic from things that hold none. It was a senseless act of violence that took a life, and she, Shiryuu, Kurou, and Joker were all witnesses to what Ruin is capable of. If melting into the stuff of shadows is a violence of the self, this was a violence of the body, just as graphic, if moreso due to how direct it is.

The squeeze of his hands reward her with the indication to stop, to stop 'fixing' things.

There is no logic, for the things that wound them.

With a step, he has her directed against the window and its frame, the cool of it contrasting with the warmth of his clothing and body.

'...then, stop.'

"What do you think I've been trying--" The hitched, whispered objection is quieted as his hands wander over her shoulders, her arms, while reinforcing that maddening space between them.

There were more things, unseen. Rooms that haven't been visited yet. Secrets and family ghosts. But even in that room itself...

SHe's aware that there's a space left where she can leave. She could even attack him, if she wanted, her hands and arms only limited by the pressure of his hands, wandering as if attempting to smooth out those grains of frustration and emotion.

-bomp-.

She hasn't moved at all; he distance he's reinforced feels like it'd only strengthen with her attempts to close it.

'Why can't I stop loving you.' "I ask myself that too," she says, managing a sharp-edged smile, encouraged to try to close the distance--

Dumb... stupid... cool... "...?!"

Umie's eyes widen, red brown irises on full display.

"... You think I'm... cool?" That momentary shock fragments into a squinty eyed sort of incredulity. "You saw me screw up, and you're *literally* the leader of a clan of ninjas. You're always dressed nice, you smell nice, you're always able to"

How did she manage that?!

"I ask myself that a lot, too... but it just comes easy, with you," she repeats. "You... really know how to--" Her breath races a hitch as his grip tightens and their foreheads touch, the pale grey contrasting with the tangle of false ash blonde.

SHe just lets herself get lost in that moment of closeness, up until his hands leave her.

Loosening.

She seizes her chance, her hands coming up to curl against his back, drawing him back in.

"Sorry," she whispers, her lips aiming to press against his chest. "I can steal hearts too, you know..."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
It's really the only time where the tension drains from Shiryuu.

It's maddening. The boy's black jacket rustles with the anxious hold he has on her, all wandering hands and frustrated sighs. He tries to shake it out of her, that brave little impulse of hers to not listen, to run damage control, to manage the unmanageable.

He tries to keep her back, to keep even that breath's space of distance between them, to keep the heightened tension in his bones and blood, to use it to get the point across, to warn her away. Time and time again, that's failed. Even now, as she tries to fight him, as she smiles that half-moon little smile of hers and tries to take advantage of him.

No...

She can go anywhere but closer. Anywhere but there. The leather of his gloves sound lightly against the fabric of her jacket, bound up in her sleeves. 'You think I'm cool,' she asks, incredulous.

She goes on. About his clothes, his heritage, his scent.

"-- you don't get to say things like that, ask those things," Shiryuu insists stiffly, holding her in place for as long as she's inclined.

It takes him a long time to recover, to say really anything at all.

"...you always get back up, no matter how dark it gets," the boy admits, darkly. "You remind me of the moonrise."

Even in the twist of an apple-sweet thought, his voice carries a hidden edge to it. A sharp, broken thought to be stepped on, though its exact shape and detail will be his mystery to her. His expression doesn't match hers, a thin, tight, wan little thing, as if a smile were a shape he didn't quite know how to recall. He tries to avoid falling, though his hands no longer have the inclination. She's trying to say something, but it sounds distant and faraway.

He tried, but...

This close, the scent of the rain is wild in Ryouhara, the same as his heart is a fist in his chest, by the time her kiss finds it. Soft lips encounter no resistance from the heat of his skin, even despite the diamond-link of ballistic mesh meant to protect it from far less dangerous assailants.

She can sense the lightning sensation that creeps up his spine, the young, sharp sound suppressed somewhere in his throat.

An echo of Akabane's voice rolls somewhere along the edge of his attention, fighting for dominance with the feel of her inside his jacket. An apology, he dimly recognizes.

'I can steal hearts too, you know..'

Ryouhara makes a face, halfway hidden against her hair. "That's--" he starts, vexed. "agh...you're such a mess..."

That boy takes her by the shoulders, gently rolling back her jacket, to bunch the hoodie up at her back. The shadow of him lowers into her as he leans in, to press a kiss against her temple, first; then her jawline. Down further, along every inch she cedes as he quietly plucks her jacket down her figure. There is an awkwardness to it -- as close as she is, she'll end up tied up in her sleeves before he plucks it all the way off.

But then, the press of him, all citrus and warmth, is entirely too comfortable with holding her still for long enough to shade a succession of ardent, intimate attentions down the length of her bicep, one kiss for every little tension discharged. "Just, let me..."

His whisper is lost somewhere against her.
He honestly forgets what he was going to say.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> '-- you don't get to say things like that, ask those things.' "I'll say what I want," she says, almost complusively.

With that spark of affection, in her eyes, as she comfortably pushes back, again and again.

And is only stopped when Shiryuu gives voice to those thoughts about her, and only the one that was positive, in a way she could never see in herself.

There are so many people she'd see as being cool, people she even developed crushes on, like Joker. They were also people she could never, ever approach in that light, for whatever reason.

It was only when she could begin to see them as trusted friends that she could begin to find herself as an equal, rather than simply act like one.

'...you always get back up, no matter how dark it gets.' "That's..." That rational, logical part of her wants to object, and offer the many times she nearly gave up, even just earlier. "I..."

She's speechless, in a way she wasn't when he held ending her life as a possibility.

She glances down. "... That's... just because I...."

'You remind me of the moonrise.'

"The... moonrise..."

After so many tries, Shiryuu's weapon hits its mark. Red fills Umie's cheeks, her eyes glancing to the aside.

He's driven her speechless, finally, even if his expression doesn't seem particularly triumphant.

How can he say something like this, Umie thinks. He'll win!

She'll grab victory back... by...

Something like a strategy was there, when she kissed his chest, feeling the beat of his heart. It may be the Badb in Umie who speaks the deadly little words, as his heart beats fast underneath her lips.

Shiryuu can feel the blackbird's grin against his chest, as Umie hides a cheeky smile there, before he begins to roll back her jacket.

By the fifth kiss, she decides to ignore the tally on who is winning, delivering a rain of kisses against Shiryuu's silver hair.
</poem>
[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-08-02: Bound in Silence

2026-08-03T23:05:48Z

Tanyuu: Created page with "*'''Log: Bound in Silence''' *'''Cast:''' Umie Akabane, Ren Amamiya *'''Where:''' Underground Mall, Shibuya, Tokyo *'''OOC Date:''' August 02, 2026 *'''IC Date:''' December 19, 2012 *'''Summary''': ''Umie needs to make sure Ren isn't hiding any secrets about what he remembers about the GiraGiraCon 'incident'. The two chat about two bonds they hold in common, though one in particular, Kurou Ryouhara, holds extra relevance in ways neither Ren or Umie admit applies..."

*'''Log: Bound in Silence'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Umie Akabane]], [[Ren Amamiya]]
*'''Where:''' Underground Mall, Shibuya, Tokyo
*'''OOC Date:''' August 02, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 19, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''Umie needs to make sure Ren isn't hiding any secrets about what he remembers about the GiraGiraCon 'incident'. The two chat about two bonds they hold in common, though one in particular, Kurou Ryouhara, holds extra relevance in ways neither Ren or Umie admit applies to them, as well.''

----

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It's rather easy to forget the swing of exams, once you've graduated. In another life, Umie would be worrying about university finals in whatever program, field, or general type of college she finally went to.

She'd probably would have accepted Ryuusei Honjou's proposal, and likely still be living with her parents until she and Ryuusei made their union official. Life would be easier, in many ways.

And yet, the very thought of it all fills her with a dread akin to seeing the barrel of Ruin's gun, pointed at her. ...Or the lingering half-remembered memory of hearing Hodai's distorted voice yelling her name, as she tried to pull open the locked doors to the other convention building...
.... as her co-worker, Ren, is right there.

>> It's finals week for you, right, Amamiya-kun?

Yet Ren's okay, even going up to talk to Kurou. She'd resolve she'd check with Ren further, to see if Kurou's suspicions of Ren remembering more than he was letting on was correct.

>> Do you need any help?

A pause.

>> I also need to talk with you when you're free
>> we can meet at 777 to pick up something quick to eat

--------

With the cold winter setting in, the doors to the Triple 7 let in their share of appropriately bundled customers, including Umie, in her red turtleneck and white coat, her blonde hair in those usual twin buns.

Looking over the items, she looks up towards the door, half expecting Ren, then looking back down as she compares the prices between the two items in her hands.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
>> Yeah. Just finished up for today.

Which is why Ren's response is fairly prompt. Once you're finished with tests, you're ready and eager to pay attention to something else. That being said--

>> I'm doing OK, been better at studying/homework thanks to your tutoring
>> Right now I really just need to rest up for tomorrow.

There's still two more days of testing, after all, and since Saturday's the last day of the semester, there's no half-day to finish up exams on--they're all crammed into five days instead. Ren's beat.

So when Umie says she wants to talk to them, they consider telling her to wait 'til the weekend. However, they consider that it'd be nice to not have to cook anything tonight, so dropping by the Triple 7 to pick something up for dinner isn't a bad idea.

>> OK, see you there soon.

---

It's not too long until Ren arrives, wearing a black coat and blue scarf on over his school uniform. They're covering a yawn as they enter, their school bag balanced on their shoulder like usual, and head over to where Umie is comparing prices.

"Hey," they greet her. "What's up?"

They'll browse in a bit. Maybe a tuna salad sandwich would be good...

...nah, Morgana will insist they share. The egg sando's probably the better bet.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> >> sounds like you are over it already
Umie grins to herself, seeing Ren admit that they're doing okay on studying.

>> good.
.... He's probably beat, Umie thinks. Would there be one day or two days left, though? Ugh, she can't remember. Either way--

>> we can swing by someplace to chat on the way to the station, won't take up too much of your time.

Then, because Umie can't resist setting a good example:
>> you better!
There's an emoji of a grumpy cat raising a fist added, for good measure.

Exam week was rough enough when you had the Dark Hour tempting you to fling yourself outside when you really needed the sleep. Umie doesn't miss it.

---

It seems like it's not that long after Umie looked up at the doors that Ren's there.

"You weren't kidding. You *look* tired."

Umie waves at Ren using the Chosen Meal: a bento box. "Take your time. I'm in no hurry."

It gives her time to think more on where they can eat. Her first instinct in warmer months would have been a park, but as cold as it is, the underground mall may be better. "Would the Underground Mall work? I'm not about to get you sick on top of tired."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
It's Wednesday afternoon, so it'd normally be three days left, Umie. Two years out of school and already you've forgotten... Repressed trauma, much?

Ren smiles at Umie's grumpy fist-cat emoji before tucking their phone away.

---

Once at the Triple Seven, they end up getting neither an egg sando or a tuna salad, but two of those bento boxes Umie waves at them. What can they say? They're hungry, that looks delicious, and the bentos are apparently on sale right now. A perfect storm. They'll save the second one for lunch tomorrow and buy a canned Earl Green to go with it. (Their favorite drink is still grape Manta, but Minako really turned them on to Earl Green while they were dating. Between that and Kurou, it's nice to have tea every so often.)

"Sounds good to me," they reply. It gets colder in the countryside, so this honestly isn't so bad for them, but they're not eager to spend their winter break sick either. Going somewhere nice and warm sounds like a great idea.

Besides, they might be tired, and they might have had a run-in with a Homunculus yesterday, and exams might be rough (though not too difficult; they're confident they're doing well), but they're still in an overall good mood this week for some mysterious reason.

The Christmas Village is already dismantled--of course it is, it was a one-day event--so the shutters once again cut off the deeper parts of the Underground Mall. However, there are places to sit, even if it's just the stairs leading down into the mall. The two of them will find a spot to eat their dinners.

"So what did you wanna talk about, Akabane-san?" they wonder as they crack open the bento and dig in.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> With a Persona, sometimes it comes down to high school trauma, or blunt force trauma, Ren.

"Oh, good idea. I should grab a second myself." It's not like Shiryuu'd know, right? (Flash to: Shiryuu's underlings kidnapping Umie for a talk, but that's later.)

At least Ren seems to be in good enough spirits. Maybe thinking about a date? It *is* that season.

... Would... Shiryuu... want a date, her mind thinks next. Is Shiryuu even aware, is the next question.

---

Alas, the deeper parts of the underground mall are already shuttered. "The Shujin booth did a pretty good job," Umie comments idly as they walk by the shutters, finding a small out of the way spot to sit down. "I don't take you as the type to volunteer for those sorts of things, but I kept an eye out for you just in case."

There was a whiff of something strange at the Shujin High booth, come to think of it. Umie opens her lips, about to ask, but opts not to. Better to keep things on-topic, rather than give Ren reasons to worry.

'So what did you wanna talk about, Akabane-san?'

Could she really overlook the possibility of Ren playing dumb, now that Kurou's pointed it out? Ren *would* be the kind of person to not let on to things that easily.

"I wanted to thank you for reaching out to Ryouhara-kun. He was worried, after..." She opens her soda and sips, gesturing vaguely outwards. "The things that happened, a few weeks ago."

Setting the drink down, she opens up her bento box and separates her chopsticks. "You don't need to worry about any fees for the costume, either. I'm taking care of it." She picks up a piece of salmon and pops it in her mouth, thoughtfully.

Be strategic, Umie. "Do you... remember much, about that day?" Umie, you already know how he's going to answer this question, what are you doing

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
Trauma's trauma!

As for dates... maybe, maybe not. That goes for both of them, really.

"Yeah? Cool," Ren replies. Technically speaking, it wasn't a volunteer thing, but that doesn't really matter. They contributed a token amount of effort to preparation, then ditched the day of to go do... something else. They don't regret it in the slightest.

By the time Umie's speaking, Ren's mouth is full. This is in purpose. They have an idea of what she wants to discuss, and they'll have to play it carefully. They're still chewing by the time she asks what they remember, so they have plenty of time to consider what to say next.

> What day?

No. Fully playing dumb would itself be dumb. They were too cognizant at the time, and anyway, Kurou clearly told Umie about how they showed up at the apartment to talk to him.

> Everything.

Haha, no. ''Obviously'' they're not going to cop to that. She'll either realize they're a Persona User and wonder why they've never summoned in front of her, or try to encourage her to become one. No, definitely not this option.

> Not much.

Safe enough. It ought to be about what she expects anyway, and if they're vague, well, of course they're vague if they don't remember much.

Ren swallows. "Not much," they reply. "Some stalker was on a tear after you... It's mostly a blur. I guess there must've been a gas leak or something; sure glad nothing sparked. But the Ryouharas got you to safety--right? I'm pretty sure I remember that much." A beat. "And thanks about the dress. What a waste of a beautiful outfit." They sigh in genuine regret. "Our lives are more important, but damn, I looked good in it."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Ren's short response causes Umie to stifle a laugh around her bit of rice. Keeping her mouth closed until she takes a sip of her drink (she really should have gone for something warm...) Umie looks at Ren with a cheeky, lopsided grin.

"Good on you," she says, even if she doesn't know at all about what Ren did.

Umie can make assumptions!

What Umie *doesn't* make assumptions about is Ren's timing, and how that bit of food is giving them just enough time to debate what they say next. _What day, indeed_.

She makes a slight face at his answer: it's about what she expected, and one that she's glad he knows to give.

Damn that Akechi, making it seem like Ren being close to awakening was a hidden blessing.

It shouldn't be. Ren Amamiya needs to be able to be a normal high schooler, not someone drawn into the supernatural, especially because of her shortsightedness.

And if Ren *is* hiding something... she can't draw it out, anymore than Kurou could.

So, Umie plays along. "Yes. And... so did Akechi-kun." She takes another bite from her bento, chewing thoughtfully on what to say next.

She could have sworn Ren tried to protect her, and for some reason, she didn't object.

"Yeah, it was a freak accident," she murmurs, softly. "But, the important thing is, it's been resolved. And even if it hadn't..."

Akechi had said to keep the details palatable, and to go from there.

"... You still would've been safe." Literally, as the Joker Cursed would only go after the victims they called the Old Maid on.

At least this means *she* doesn't need to explain what the hell she was doing. Ren doesn't seem scared of her at all, either.

"There can always be more outfits," Umie says. "But you *did* look good in it. Even played the part well."

"I admit," she continues, with a sly grin, "there's a whole lot that's blurry for me too, so I was hoping to hear how everyone came to our aid~ Sometimes it can be fun to be the princess being saved in the nick of time."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
Ren's features soften with fondness when Umie brings up Akechi. "Yeah. I remember talking to him a little afterwards," they say, which lines up with what Akechi told her, because it's true. "But I don't remember exactly what," they add, which is not. "Glad you made it out okay."

It's 'been resolved,' huh. Ren wonders if that guy is getting tortured by the Ryouharas or if Umie stopped that much from happening. They don't try to ask. They can't justify how they'd know to ask, and anyway, they already decided that it was Umie's call to make.

They look over at her when she claims they would've been safe either way. No need to ask a question, though, because they chuckle when she agrees on the outfit. "I'd be up for that." More outfits, that is. They acquired a special sort of starry silk from the Mizunagi, found after they left the place, and once finals are over, they plan on taking it to Peacock Silk to see what they can do with it.

So Umie's memories are fuzzy too, huh. She could be lying, but Ren's inclined to believe her; they're pretty sure she got concussed. "Makes sense, if there was a gas leak," they reply. "That's too bad. I'd have liked to've heard about it too, but Kurou didn't seem to want to get into it."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Yeah, he mentioned that he was able to talk to you a little afterwards," Umie admits, with a relieved expression. "It made me feel better, knowing you had that; I remember you being a tough cookie. But what a person does when their adrenaline is kicking in and what they do afterwards... those are two very different things."

'But I don't remember exactly what.' "Akechi-kun's dealt with a lot due to his job, so..." She twirls her chopsticks thoughtfully. "He probably made sure to check you for any signs of injury or shock." She can't help but smile a little herself. "He can be annoying, but... he really pulls through for you when you're in a pinch."

She knows she can tell him anything, and he'd take a rational look over it. So helpful, that Akechi!

As for Hodai?

ha ha ha, it's a very good question (that wasn't asked, thankfully). What exactly *did* happen to Hodai? Between recovering from Hodai's attack and the Mizunagi incident, it's a thread that keeps falling out of Umie's hands.

But surely, Umie thinks, she'll be responsible and look into it, after learning what she has.
Surely... she doesn't feel a dark kind of anger over it.
Surely...

Kurou... so the first name basis is mutual. Umie regards Ren with a soft grin. "He's a sensitive guy, as quiet as he is. Finding people closer to his age that do well with that can be rare; even moreso because he's afraid of something happening to you." She'll admit that much, justifying it with, "He's been through a lot."

She hates how much she sounds like some family member, apologizing for a socially awkward grandson, but Ren deserves to know how she feels.

"You're doing it because you want to, but I'm still thankful that you did. He needs friends like that, instead of feeling like he has to separate himself completely from others."

It's bouncing a little too close to home, despite Umie being the one to cause it.

Pretty dresses, however...

"If you need a chaperone or escort, I can always oblige~" Umie wiggles her fingers at Ren, her eyes turning to merry slits.

She's not entirely sure if it was wearing the dress or wearing the *role* that was more fun for Ren, but as far as she's concerned, it felt like something Ren could enbody.

Like her, and the Dark Hour, with her paper masks.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
''He can be annoying, but... he really pulls through for you when you're in a pinch.''

Ren chuckles ever so faintly, ever so fondly, at Umie's description. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

That slight, warm mirth fades when she moves on to Kurou, though. "...Yeah. We've talked a little about it. I know his mom's in jail, and... that's about it. The way he talked about that day, too..." Their eyes narrow. "He doesn't think of the 'normal' world as one where he belongs. I can't even begin to imagine what he's been through."

What it's like to be trained as an unhesitating killer.

They look over at Umie as she continues. "...Yeah. I had that feeling about him, too. He seems... untethered. And," despite all the reasons they shouldn't, "I like him." They look down at their bento. "We feel... similar, somehow."

Similar, and yet so very different.

But a breath of humor returns at Umie's wiggling fingers. "I'll think about it," they say mildly. "It's not something I get too many opportunities to do anyway." Aside of course from shifts at Bar Crossroads, but considering the help needed to put on a kimono, that's a ''commitment''.

For now, though, they resume eating. If she's got more to ask, she'll have to wait for another round of chewing and swallowing. It might be a good time for her to get back to eating, too.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> With how fondly Ren seems to regard Akechi in that moment, there were so many stories Umie wished she could have shared, just to show off those qualities.

... Like the moment Akechi came in with konbini food, and even some ice packs to keep them cool as they lay hidden from the nurses.
--alas she can't justify it, she was was in the hospital
Or that... no. Or that? No.

However, does she even need to? Ren already knows what he feels, if it's a bond of friendship or something else.

That's between those two, and she's glad for it.

Ren mentioning Kurou's mother being in jail surprises Umie; her chopsticks pause enroute. "Yeah."

The way Ren's eyes narrow-- Umie nods to that as well, a similar sentiment in the slant of her mouth.

The way he spoke of the 'normal' world, like it was the other side of the water's surface, existing in the Dark Hour, conscious in some form, but lacking a Persona...

He was afraid of the same thing happening to Ren, despite his own circumstances being as wholly unique as hers (or was hers unique at all?).

"He's afraid he'll draw you in to something similar, just by being around him," Umie says, carefully, after taking a bite's worth of time to think. "It's easy to get in that mindset-- that something, or someone you like, is better separated from you than with you."

Unthethered. "That's a good word for it." She sorts out some of the dried seaweed, picking it with some grains of rice, and popping it in her mouth.

Her lips smile around the chopsticks as Ren says they like them.

"I do too. And I also see it." Similar, and different. "If you ever come over and I'm around, I'll have to cook for you two sometime. He likes it when we have meals together."

'I'll think about it.' Umie chuckles. "It was fun. That much, I remember."

She starts on some pickled vegetables, the carrot quietly crunching in her mouth.

Silence... it ain't half bad.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
''It's easy to get in that mindset-- that something, or someone you like, is better separated from you than with you.''

"..."

They really are alike... Ren and Kurou.

"Sounds good to me," Ren says of Umie cooking dinner. "I'll be happy to help out, too. I've been learning a lot myself." And whether they brew some coffee to go with it, or Kurou brews tea, or even both--it'll no doubt be a fun evening.
</poem>

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-07-27: Of Feathers and Bones

2026-07-30T04:14:22Z

Tanyuu: Created page with "*'''Log: Of Feathers and Bones''' *'''Cast:''' Umie Akabane, Kurou Ryouhara *'''Where:''' Umie's Apartment *'''OOC Date:''' July 27, 2026 *'''IC Date:''' December 16, 2012 *'''Summary''': ''Oyakodon is on the menu as Umie makes another home-cooked meal for her and her quiet roommate, Kurou Ryouhara. The two unpack some of the events that have happened in the past few weeks, as well as discover some similarities between them and their Personas, as well as some dif..."

*'''Log: Of Feathers and Bones'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Umie Akabane]], [[Kurou Ryouhara]]
*'''Where:''' Umie's Apartment
*'''OOC Date:''' July 27, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 16, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''Oyakodon is on the menu as Umie makes another home-cooked meal for her and her quiet roommate, Kurou Ryouhara. The two unpack some of the events that have happened in the past few weeks, as well as discover some similarities between them and their Personas, as well as some differences Umie is determined to fix, for Kurou's sake.''

----

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It seemed like a good idea, after the past few weeks.

Besides, Umie was in the mood for some oyakodon, even if she knew it likely wouldn't be as picture-perfect without the proper oyakodon pan.

The chicken was on sale when she picked it up, and Umie still needed to pick up some green onions, just in case there were none at the apartment. The eggs were another thing she needed to buy, having used up the ones she had on some tamagoyaki that didn't turn out that well, but were at least still edible.

With Kurou on hand to help, it goes smoothly; Umie's sure she would have been more lax in her prep if not for him right there.

A portion of the yellow mixture of egg, chicken, onions, and green onions is laid atop each bowl of white rice, which is carried over to the table. The TV is set on mute, playing an evening variety show.

Outside the frosted window, snow is likely falling, if any manage to get into the alleyway.

"Anything you feel like drinking, Ryouhara-kun? I picked up some soda for me, but there's still some bottled water and some juice." Would juice really work well with oyakodon? Probably not, but she's tried weirder combos before." Umie sets the table with chopsticks and napkins, placing a can of soda for herself.

Taking off her apron and setting it on the hook, she sits down to her meal, just about to pick up her chopsticks--

ah, yes. She needs to be a good example. She puts her hands together.

"... Itadakimasu."

The chicken is a little chewy but still savory, but the eggs are just right: not too chewy, not too runny. "That went a lot better than the last time I've made this. I'm glad we weren't out of mirin."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Kurou proves to once again be a diligent helper, and this time he doesn't end up threatening property damage. While Kurou, as always, has his Kurou-face, there is still a sparkle in his unmoving eyes as he watches eggs crack and cook within the brothy chicken mixture.

Somehow, that expressionless glimmer is still amplified once the meal is in front of him and he gently runs his chopsticks through the golden meal.

"I am all right for now, thank you." The way he's eyeing that soup, perhaps he's not interested in washing away the flavors anytime soon...

Juice will still be there once it's done, after all.

Normally one to wait for Umie to begin eating, Kurou has nearly forgotten himself in a homemade oyakodon trance. But Umie sets an example that is cuttingly effectively. Kurou mirrors the hand press, and echoes the sentiment in his usual monotone.

"Itadakimasu."

He manages to wait a polite moment further before beginning to eat, his chopsticks lingering at his mouth after the first bite. Some have tried to insult him by declaring him akin to a pet, but... it's difficult not to nearly ''see'' a metaphorical tail wagging in this moment.

It has not been an easy past few weeks.

But as the frost on the window makes being inside feel warmer, perhaps the comfort of this meal, too, holds more meaning. It is one of the unbelievable, wondrous treasures of 'this world'.

His head tilts a little at the idea of Umie's food not turning out well. "So you practice...?" Kurou looks back into the eggy chicken bowl. "That must be why Akabane-san's meals are the best kind..."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> To Umie, it may be Kurou's lack of emotion that amplifies the slight colors of those small gives in his expression: the twinkle in his eyes, the dilation of his pupils, his dedication to watching how each egg is cracked open and emptied over the bowl. "... If you crack it like this," she says, with a small smile, "it makes it easier to get the yolk out cleanly."

It will always be overshadowed by the quiet violence of his motion in battle, but that seems to be a given for both of them, each in their own way.

Umie's life as a Persona-User began a violence done upon the soul; the Badb is a part of her. She delights in it, when she becomes committed to the flow of a fight. Every yolk will have a piece of shell in it, no matter how carefully she cracks the egg.

"Alright." Sitting down and saying thanks, Umie catches how Kurou waits, as well as how those chopsticks linger in his mouth.

She's half-tempted to reach over and muss his hair, right then and there, due to the accumulation of cute aggression.

However, in this case, she is merciful.

'So you practice?' "Nothing like that," Umie admits, with a lopsided grin. "My parents got out of the habit of family meals by the time I hit high school, so most of the time, I was on my own meal-wise." She opens her soda and sips it. "We had a much larger kitchen, though... I admit, I miss having everything I needed right there. But..."

She didn't have anyone to cook for, she admits to herself.

"I don't think it was nearly as fun back then," she says, instead. "How's your meal?"

How are you holding up, she nearly says, but holds off on that question, for now.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Kurou nods slowly, taking mental notes. A clean yolk. He watches with a keen interest in every domestic maneuver, despite that he is still the same boy that thrust his blade for Ruin's throat as if he'd have felt nothing if he'd hit his mark. Or maybe it's because of it, that his moment is what it is.

Gashadokuro hungers. For blood. For violence.

For life.

But in this moment, Kurou is oblivious to the mercy he is granted and the fate he nearly fails to escape.

His demeanor turns thoughtful through Umie's explanation. On her own since high school, without family meals... "... Oh. Then... we are not too different." Though Kurou had no access to a large kitchen, like she did. Or maybe much of a kitchen at all.

"It is delicious. Thank you, Akabane-san."

He eats another bite, pausing. Where she holds off, Kurou's own guilt begins to set in with the silence. To be able to enjoy this warmth...

"... Ah," he begins, unsure how to begin beyond a single utterance. But all things must begin with a single utterance of one stripe or another, mustn't they?

"... I should apologize. While you were away, Ama -- that is, Ren came to see me."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie went into the struggle for the Dragon Line being angry. While she dressed it up as being irritated over her shift being ruined, in truth, it was fear of the supernatural intruding into the mundane. Seeing Toki feel compelled to close down her business for the evening as patrons likewise moved out felt unnatural.

Worst of all, Toki was doing exactly what Umie would have wanted in a case like this; it wasn't like her friend was being mind-controlled, either. It was just a natural reaction to the very thing Umie kept a secret from her, proving that Umie should never let her know anything about it.

Umie's anger transitioned to malicious pride when the fight leaned in her 'side''s favor, and when she landed the last blow on a robot that looked at the Bride (or Groom?) as her mother, Umie took pleasure in it.

Like the large shadows in Aoba Park and in other cases, there was always a sense that Umie was not supposed to be there; that her presence was unnatural. Sinful.

No wonder she could see kegare, now.
No wonder, that Umie looks at Kurou and feels protective; she can't stop herself, when she sees someone who has been hurt by something or someone.

The Badb hungers for blood and violence, and most of all, it hungers to be heard, and acknowledged for what was done to that voice.

'Then... we are not too different.' Umie considers this. "Because your mom was in prison, or...? I realize... the Ryouhara family's a complicated one." Even without rumors, hohoho

Kurou thanks her, and Umie grins. "Thank *you* for helping me," she says in turn. "It's pretty nice, having a helper. SOmeday... you'll have to show me how to make tea."

'I should apologize.' "Mmn?" Umie sounds, through a bite of her meal. The first name is noted, with a bit of a prideful thrill for Kurou.

"He did, huh?" Umie's chopsticks slow for a moment out of mild, if pleasant, surprise. "That little rascal. Catching you off guard~" She takes a sip of her drink. "I know you had complicated feelings about it... I take it things went well?"

After all, it's Ren. He's determined.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
He has been raised for violence, and he is comfortable within it. Yet where and how it is aimed... Shiryuu has been Kurou's only lifeline in that regard.

And, even so, he cannot guarantee where his blade will next be pointed.

Kurou nods as Umie asks after his situation. "Yes. She is not... particularly domestic," he ventures, and his eyes glance as if he expects she might hear him in this moment and take offense. "But without her, there was... no eating together. With anyone." He rests his chopsticks against the edge of his bowl without relinquishing them.

"... Complicated," he repeats, slowly nodding again in agreement. "It is not easy to remember those times."

Or the ones before. Was it just him and his mother for family meals, without ever even having a guest? That does not feel correct. Now the experiences and memories are vivid. This one sinks hot into his brain through the warmth of each mouthful, and the texture recorded with each bite of his teeth...

Receiving gratitude himself, there's a look back at Umie that almost qualifies as ''shy'', if one didn't know better -- and maybe 'knowing better' means knowing that may be the most accurate description after all. "If you like, then... whenever you may like."

But at Kurou's own confession, Umie seems surprised, but not --

"... You are not upset? I... was not sure it was a good idea..." Kurou looks down, voice quieter. "I told him as much. But Ren is... someone with strong convictions."

And in the case of whether or not they should stop being friends, theirs proved stronger than Kurou's.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'She is not... particularly domestic,' Kurou says.

In truth, there is a kneejerk flattening of Umie's lips, but the timing of Kurou's glance lands a critical hit, as expected of a Ryouhara. Umie finds herself laughing, instead. "I mean, there's cooking because you want to, and then there's cooking because it's expected of you."

'But without her...' "... Mmn." She settles back in her seated position, her gaze thoughtful. "Do you have any idea when..." When she's getting out.

Does Kurou want her out of prison? Umie's never got the idea that he disliked her at all; in fact, she gets the sense that he does love her.

.... It just... feels like there's something she's missing here, and that it may not be as simple as Kurou's mom getting free. After all, she doesn't really know that much about her, or if that lack of corrospondence is due to the justice system being what it is.

As well as... what she's there for, in the first place, and whether it has anything to do with the parts of himself that Kurou wants to change.

"Then... remember this meal, until then." She takes another bite of her oyakodon. "And if I can teach you how to make it, then maybe..." He could make it for his mother.

Again, she feels like she's introducing a false hope in Kurou, no difference than the many delusions she leaves behind, just by existing.

If that thought was going to go down a dark path, it's diverted by that shy glance. Stifling the need to just audibly fawn over that rare little wisp of expression, Umie manages a nod. "Maybe after your exams," she says.

At the topic of Ren, Umie shakes her head. "No. We can only do so much. If Amamiya-kun went out of his way to do that, then..."

Ahhh, Ren. No wonder he's grown on her so quickly.

"I had a talk with a friend of mine that made me think better of it," Umie admits. That friend being Akechi does not matter at all!! "If Amamiya-kun has the potential to manifest a Persona, it'll happen. And when it happens, we can make sure he has the help he needs. And if he doesn't..."

She thinks of Ren again, on Akechi's doorstep.

"I think pushing him away would be worse." She breaths a sigh. "Did he remember anything? It's possible that his mind might fail to remember things after the fact."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Kurou blinks a few times with the flatness turned to laughter. He is, unfortunately, a little dense when it comes to certain social expectations given his own were so unusual, both in his mother's care and after he left it. "... There was... a lot of grilled fish. She said... food tasted better when it still had a face."

Just what kind of person is this woman?

But Umie almost asks as question, and Kurou follows its trailing silence into his own wordlessness. His grip on his chopsticks begins to tremble, clinking into the edge of the bowl before he rests it there, holding it forcibly still.

"... Never," finally says. "Not with... what she was framed for."

He lets out a long breath, near silent, and then begins to eat again. Remember this meal. "Mm," he agrees, closing his eyes and letting himself relax into it. After a moment, he looks back into it. 'Than maybe...' "She would like it, I think," Kurou muses. "She would say... a mother should get eaten if the child is."

That might be the most telling thing he's said about his mother so far. It is also telling that Kurou said his mother is never being released, yet speaks as if he might still make her tea and oyakodon.

He just has to learn, first. Oyakodon from Umie to Kurou, and tea from Kurou to Umie.

But the talk of Ren has Kurou more ill at ease, tension in his shoulders. Ren awakening to a Persona...

"Akabane-san would be a very helpful person, in that case."

Could Kurou be? He had already mentioned it to Ren: his own help isn't always what someone deserves. Yet Umie saying not to push him away is like a stone pulled from Kurou's chest, making him lighter.

"He claims he doesn't." Is that skepticism? There is no world where Kurou simply sees through the Will of Rebellion (not that Umie knows about it either). "But he is perceptive and quick thinking, so I think he senses more to it."

Kurou's gaze drops to his meal, idly stirring.

"... I hope that is all it is. Or that he would tell us if he were experiencing things like the Dark Hour without Persona."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> For better or worse, it's not that all of Umie's reactions are necessarily 'normal' when she's relaxed in this twilight self: neither the 'normal, boring adult' she jokes she is, or the Persona User that is everything she asks herself to be, wants to be, and needs to be in order to survive. And yet, she is both.

And Kurou...

Who is Kurou, in this moment?

'... food tasted better when it still had a face.' A devoted son?
'Not with... what she was framed for.' Someone who was wronged?
'She would like it, I think.' A boy, longing for family?
'She would say... a mother should get eaten if the child is.' Someone whose idea of family may have been irretrievably distorted, perhaps through the memories that are beyond his reach.

"Ryouhara-kun..."

Umie thinks of her own mother: a businesswoman, who seemed more interested in that role than one of 'wife' or 'mother'. Not cold, but forever expecting more of her daughter, never one to express warmth naturally. Umie could never say that she got the sense her mother hated her, or didn't love her.

If Kurou said the same, would it be because if what he wanted from her, what he thinks she'd be like, or from what he knows?

".... I can only hope, if it came to that. But it'd mean he'd probably learn about my Mark," she says, looking down at the dissected yellow yolk among the chicken. "I'd... want someone like Amamiya-kun to not see me as..."

She struggles for words. "I guess, I could still keep that a secret. Not many Persona Users know about it. So... he could still see me as his work senpai. Just, also a Persona User."

She makes that compromise.

"But he'd also need someone like you. Someone closer to his age, who isn't going to talk his ear off," she says wryly, with a smirk. "I'll have to reach out to him, either way, so I'm glad he's reached out to you."

But what if Ren already has one? Someone as perceptive as he is just might.

"It's possible, if he can mask it from my senses." She considers. "It's not that difficult; I'm not as powerful as Navigators are."

Umie looks down at her bowl, a thoughtful frown on her lips. "As for hiding... that's possible too," she concedes. "But I only say that because I hid for a while before I revealed myself to anyone." She looks up, picking another piece of chicken with her chopsticks. "It was a lot easier, a few years ago. Not as many around."

"But if he was hiding... it'd be because he has a reason to." She looks up to Kurou. "... Like I did. Maybe he doesn't want to feel like he's a burden on people. Or maybe, he just wants to be able to remain in his normal life."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Kurou does not remember much of his father. It is one of the few things he struggles to remember that he does not miss. His mother is remembered as a mother, but not at all as a wife. As a boy, there are gendered expectations that Kurou is privileged to be oblivious to. As Kureha's son, there are different ideas of what a mother should be like in its place. As Kurou... there is static where information should be.

Even if Kurou thinks himself a simple person, there are layers, some buried and beyond sight from others.

Even if he thinks Umie easy to understand, she has many facets, some he may never see.

This is something he knows, and yet... for a moment, he does not understand her hesitation.

"As...?" he ventures as Umie trails off. "... Everyone is entitled to their secrets," he says instead of prying further.

As for Ren, Umie makes good points, even Kurou does not fully grasp every point she makes about peers. In this matter, he's willing to take her word for it. Umie would know much better than he would.

"Ren seems to believe more in 'this world' than 'that world'... So... hopefully that is enough to keep him from ever getting stuck in 'that world', even if he sees parts of it..."

Even this heavy conversation does not keep Kurou from taking moments to enjoy bites of his meal, his eyes lighting up slightly each time, like he's forgotten how good it would taste.

"... It was easier back then," he agrees, belatedly.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie would be the last person to ever say Kurou was a simple person, and it wouldn't be said just to reassure him, either.

... Nor would Umie consider herself easy to understand, especially when she has trouble understanding herself.

"It's not that it's a secret," Umie says. "There's a lot of things I don't know about the Mark. Or what happens to people. When I brush up against weird things I don't know about, like those giant shadows that have popped up in Sumaru, or other things, it's like there's something about it, and about me, that is not welcome. And with this thing that happened-- I realize Shiryuu used his powers, but I did too." That much was confirmed by Joker. "And what the other Marked have shown themselves capable of."

She had told Joker 'she didn't like it'.
'I don't like it' is just another way for Umie to admit 'I'm afraid'.

But fear is a forbidden emotion, opening her up for attacks from beyond, and disabling her own capacity to remain in control. "... I'd like him to see me as... someone he could go to, if he needed help."

Believing in 'this world' than 'that world'. "You mean the Order's world? Or just... the supernatural world, in general." Or maybe the 'world' that the Mark seems to compel people into believing?

It was easier back then. "... Yes. But it was also lonelier," Umie admits.

"Setting the topic of Amamiya-kun aside..." she begins, before taking a drink of her soda, "what I also want to know about... is you."

Coming at this directly may not lead to the results she wants, but all the same, perhaps she could take a cue from her young co-worker and just ask.

"I've chatted with Shiryuu a bit on how he's feeling, though I haven't gotten back to him over that weird rumor that's cropped up. You, on the other hand... You've had to deal with a lot."

She leans forward, placing an elbow on the table. "If there's anything you need to talk about, or think over, I'm here. That goes for... uh, questions, you may have for me." She clears her throat. "There's... certain things that I've managed to figure out, from talking to Joker-san."

Her eyes look low. "... He asked about you. I didn't say, since I wanted to respect your own privacy. And, well, I don't want to get into a habit of it."

Kurou *is* still an enemy of the Phantom Thieves. "Ruin is still out there, as well. So... watch out for that."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
The world is a terrifyingly complex place... and yet one Kurou often distills into strange simplicity when it comes time to act, for better or for worse.

Kurou falls silent again, listening to Umie's explanation with such attentiveness that he fails to eat any of his meal while listening. "... I see," he finally says, and there's a gravity to it, like he might actually understand something. "... But... to have something like that... and still help others... Doesn't that make Akabane-san even more capable...?"

Afraid or not afraid, Umie helps. Mark or no Mark, Umie helps.

"The supernatural one. Things like the 'Dark Hour' or Mementos, or Tartarus..." And other spaces that appear from time to time. "The world where demons are real and death hunts you, if you take too long."

Kurou's eyelids fall halfway in something approaching discontent, if he did not almost look sleepy. "...Though, the Order would be bad, too."

Rather than Ren, Umie turns the topic to Kurou. He sits up a little straighter. He's not been sure yet what to make of the rumor. Shiryuu is the one who usually thinks of such things, and how they should handle it. And if it's Umie's feelings they're waiting on, then Kurou will give her time for that.

What ''he'' might need to think about is a far more foreign question. Kurou blinks once, and then does not blink again for a long moment.

"... Akabane-san and Shiryuu-san and Ren are all right," he says, using Shiryuu's name only so it's clear who he means, and because he does not think Umie will find fault in it. "So... I do not think there is much to talk about."

Kurou hesitates, trying to think on how Ren navigates conversations. Listening a lot, but asking the right questions. It's difficult to emulate, even thinking on it now...

"I am curious to know what Joker asked, but I have no interest in compromising your trust with your contact." Kurou taps his chopsticks to his lips. "Ah, but -- Akabane-san, too... can ask questions. Or. Talk."

Ruin is still out there. Kurou's head hangs a little. "... Mm. I missed..." He nods some for her warning. "I will."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'Doesn't that make Akabane-san even more capable...?' The comment is said like it was an undeniable truth.

To thoughtlessly deny it would be denying Kurou's own trust in her, Umie realizes, no matter how much she wants to.

"I'm honored that you think of me that way," Umie says instead, quietly. "I'll try to live up to those words." The words feel heavier than she would usually use, but they seem to fit, given Kurou's own demeanor in this moment.

Even more surprising is Kurou's view of the supernatural, especially compared to how Shiryuu would color such concepts so elegantly, using the moon as a metaphor.

"Have you ever talked to Shiryuu about this?" Umie wonders aloud. "I can see what you mean, though. It can be freeing, but one mistake means you die. It's hard to think how close I've come, back when I was still learning." Her eyes look down towards her meal, once more. "I've... made mistakes, and seen things people weren't supposed to see."

"But when I heard about SEES wanting to try to find a way to end the Dark Hour, that and the Dark Hour wasn't supposed to be there, it felt like a threat."

The last piece of chicken is plucked, along with some rice. "So... I can see your side too. We'd want to spare Amamiya-kun all of that, wouldn't we?"

Even now, she's turning something Kurou is saying into something through her own lens, Umie realizes. Her eyelids lower. "But if he finds the Dark Hour is the spot to be his true self, I will help with that as well."

She eats that piece of chicken.

'Though, the Order would be bad, too.' Umie cackles through her closed mouth, and drinks her soda. "Now that's an understatement."

'Akabane-san and Shiryuu-san and Ren are all right.' Umie looks fondly on Kurou, reaching out and, if Kurou doesn't shrink away, lightly mussing his hair. "You're too precious sometimes, Ryouhara-kun."

As for Joker? "He asked if you were still alive," Umie says. "Shiryuu too." As well as the name of the person who died, but that she'll need to ask later, to make sure it doesn't get connected with Joker.

It's probably hard for Kurou to relate in terms of feelings, given his unsteady connection to his idea of 'self'.

Maybe, that's where she can start. "How long ago was it, that you awakened to your Persona, Ryouhara-kun?" A moment passes, and Umie adds, "You can ask me a question too, you know."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Kurou is not completely blind to Umie's careful wording. He digests her quiet response, but something about them does not quite settle in him right. "... Akabane-san needs to only live as Akabane-san. That has been... important."

He is not sure how else to articulate that. Maybe Umie's efforts are part of what make her Umie, though.

But indeed, Kurou has a grimmer view of the supernatural than Shiryuu, it would seem. For all its haunting beauty, he would treat it like a deathtrap first and foremost. Kurou shakes his head. He's never discussed it with Shiryuu openly.

"No, but... I believe he understands my position." It's why even a subordination like Kurou had been asked to act as a judge under the light of the moon.

"Once you have a Persona, it is much easier to see the better parts of it." Kurou says this as if it is a given, and not a strange suggestion in itself. The average Persona user surely does not experience much of it before their Persona manifests? His own thoughts have already moved on to concern for Ren. "... Not deciding what is best for him..."

If that is where Ren's true self is... as Umie says, even Kurou cannot try to protect them from that.

When she reaches out, Kurou remains steadfast, hair mussed. He does not move from even his own breathing, but his eyes... they are starting to sparkle...

Focus returns as the conversation returns to business. So Joker wanted to make sure Kurou lived. That makes sense, given what he knows of the Phantom Thieves' operations. "I see. He saved my life. It is not an easy debt to repay given our circumstances."

Yet it will not be a favor Kurou forgets he owes -- likely whether Joker acknowledges the debt or not. For Kurou, such thoughts are simple things, easily spoken at dinnertime.

So is the matter of his Awakening.

"Sometime within the last year, I think."

That would put him among the recent Awakenings, and not with someone who talks like he know about 'before'. It does not fit with someone who speaks as if he has been running Dark Hour errands for his clan before Shiryuu came to lead it.

But it might fit a Kurou who, when asked about his own life experiences, struggles to remember
A Kurou who suspects Ren might have seen more than they let on, even without a Persona.
Or a Kurou who, until very recently, did not seem to exist in civilized society, defining life as 'this world' and getting stuck in 'that world'.

It might, if one could swallow the idea of such an incongruous premise.

"... What about Akabane-san? How long has it been... lonely?"

Trying to figure out these things on her own.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'That has been... important.' It's an odd sensation: a mixture of pride, happiness, but also, a tenseness as Umie reminds herself that she's the adult here.

"The same goes for you, you know," Umie relates, with a skewed grin, raising a red-nailed finger. "It's important that Ryouhara-kun gets to live as Ryouhara-kun. Even if you're still figuring out who 'Kurou Ryouhara-kun' is." Which may be a difficult thing to ask of any teenager, really, but to make sure Kurou understands it's a question he can ask? That is important, to Umie.

What's also important is hearing Kurou's opinion on Shiryuu: that despite not having told Shiryuu this, Kurou feels Shiryuu understands his position. Umie's eyelashes lower, feeling a slight flush of affection for Shiryuu. In spite of how Shiryuu talks about himself behind closed doors... Kurou still feels that trust.

"... I guess so. I don't think it's necessarily universal." Yukari had mentioned her disagreement at Scion over fighting; coming into things as a member of SEES likely throws a different view on things. "What is freedom for someone like me could be a weight for someone else. ... And my relationship isn't exactly typical, either..."

Not deciding what is best for Ren. "... It's a hard thing to remember," she says, softly. "That a person usually doesn't become a Persona User because they're a blank slate." Akechi's words helped form that understanding, but Umie also saw where Ren seemed to respect it when she didn't treat him like he was somehow unworthy of being taken seriously.

... unlike what Umie is doing here, by lightly mussing Kurou's hair. She gives him an embarrassed grin despite the hint of a sparkle in his eyes, as she retracts her hand.

The conversation turns to the business of what happened. Umie nods slowly. "... I was so focused during it all that I didn't realize." SHe lets out a sigh after eating the last bits of rice, setting her chopsticks down. "What do you think Joker would expect of you, now?" It's an exercise set before for Kurou, but also, Umie wants to see what he thinks.

As for Kurou's Awakening... "So longer than some here..." she assesses, thoughtfully. "Was it... hard, on you?" It seems like it would be, but it's not like a Persona can truly signal those circumstances, operating on a logic more intrinsic to the unconscious.

A hungry ghost is not that much different from a hungry crow.

The conversation goes back to Umie, who leans on one hand. "I see Amamiya-kun's had a influence on you," Umie teases (mostly for her own benefit). "But I did offer to answer a question." She doesn't seem to mind, especially since there's nothing she needs to hide, in this case.

"I think I was eleven, or so. So far, I've only met a few people who've possibly had their Persona as long as me, though... they probably don't realize it. The only one who does know is now dead." That being Sudou, the one known as the Joker Killer.

"It hasn't been... truly lonely," she starts with an slow carefulness. "There was... someone, sometimes there. But looking back, I don't know if it was... any better." If Mai-chan has been somehow haunting that strange space separate from Umie, it may be time to open up a little, but only so far.

Umie risks inviting her, otherwise.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Kurou might hesitate on that idea. Umie as an adult, or Shiryuu as an adult... Wouldn't that mean he would be, in two years time? There's so much in the world he doesn't know. Two years isn't anywhere near enough to know it.

It probably isn't even enough to know who 'Kurou Ryouhara' really is, as Umie hopes. But she's right: it's a question Kurou doesn't directly ask himself. He ''is'', but what is he ''is''ing as? And is it really so important, for someone who doesn't know...?

Kurou pinches his brow together, trying to consider it. "I will... try to remember."

Because it was Umie that asked. Because Ren had also said something like that. Because even Shiryuu, his shihaisha, attempts those small nudges. And what was it Niko-chan had said?

"To... find a song... 'Kurou Ryouhara' would want to belt out..."

Maybe what he should remember to give context to those kind of metaphorical statements. (Even if he means it literally, too.)

Accidentally flustering Umie leaves a moment for Kurou to happily (obliviously?) eat more of his meal. His own trust for Shiryuu is ironclad, naively or not, and he doesn't realize it might be anything for anyone to ever question in the first place.

But Persona... "There are some who did not ask," Kurou muses gravely. "Regardless, everyone does have their own conviction. That is part of what makes the future interesting, too."

What kind of Persona would someone like Ren Awaken to, Kurou finds himself wondering. Someone like that... seems like they would have a deep sea of the soul. Kurou nods slowly. "Everyone... should have the right to choose how they meet the future."

That's the future Shiryuu is fighting for. Kurou should not let his worries get in the way of it.

Kurou's own Awakening may well be coloring his thoughts on this. Yet to be asked such a direct question makes him stop to truly consider it. ''Being alive'' had been so difficult before that moment.

"A haze had lifted. Everything that was once fuzzy sharpened into view. That meant all of the pain and starvation, too. And all of the... anger. But... maybe it was also like... finally coming up for air."

From under a layer of grave dirt.

"... And I was able to maintain consciousness further beyond the Dark Hour again, so... that was a little easier..."

That's what worries him with Ren. If Ren sees too much, won't they ''need'' to Awaken, to not get trapped...? Kurou has no idea that he's talking a situation so rare that it's hard to follow what he means.

''Eleven''. Kurou watches Umie carefully at her mention of loneliness, sensing something sensitive there. He cannot imagine a Mai-chan, but more mundane cruelties are easy enough to picture.

"... Sometimes it can be lonelier with the wrong people than fully alone."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Unfortunately, the one thing that changes when you are 20 is that you are legally an adult, whether you feel like it or not.

When a majority of Persona-Users have Awakened in their teens, it's particularly difficult... especially when you find those teenagers seem so much more powerful than you ever were. Is that a product of the bonds they share with each other?

There will come a day when Umie will have to severely debate who is responsible for who 'Umie Akabane' is, but in this space and time, Umie simply looks at Kurou and wonders what she can do to help Kurou along. "... Have you ever tried karaoke?" He probably meant it as an analogy, but it *did* bring up a thought. "I've never been much for it myself, but the rooms are soundproof."

She didn't dislike the sound of her voice, at least. "I bet you'd have a little fun with that." She *could* offer to join, but that may influence the songs Kurou'd want to sing, instead of looking through them himself.

'Everyone... should have the right to choose how they meet the future.' Umie is silent, taking in the words. She nods. "... That's what I believe, too." She would have never thought she'd hear someone who was technically an NWO agent say such a thing.

But the world's far more interesting than she could have imagined.

"..." Umie listens intently on Kurou's words, almost with a hunger she couldn't quite understand or place. It's very dissimilar to what she went through, but some threads pluck a harmonic chord: anger, most definitely. But more importantly, it seems to scrape at the mystery of who Kurou is, and what made Kurou Kurou, as opposed to one of the other Ryouharas Umie's encountered, Shiryuu included.

"Was the time before this the time you can't remember much of?" she asks, instead of asking for specifics.

And Umie... "Yes. She... looked like me, at the time. We were like twins. But as more and more time passed... the more it seemed like that face was the one I lost, that day."

"And like you, I was... also, very angry. But the events during and after it were hazy. My heart liteally couldn't take it." She frowns, tapping a fingernail against the table. "So far," she says, with some humor, "I'm the only person I know whose heart just gave out because they got a Persona. The jokes write themselves."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
If Kurou stopped to think of it, he'd realize they've both been fending for themselves far longer than the law says they should have to, regardless. To say nothing of the supernatural world they must fend for themselves in, beyond any reasonable expectation, child or adult.

At the mention of karaoke, Kurou shakes his head. "No. Niko-chan invited me, but... her song was very meaningful. She said mine should be, too. But I do not know many songs." His head tilts to one side. "Maybe if I try it, I'll find one..."

He knows he can't force it, but he also has to expose himself to music for it to happen at all.

Niko-chan also has a Persona. It's a similar feeling to Ren... an idea that stirs a concern in Kurou. But if Persona is a power that allows one to proceed with conviction... then he needs to pierce that feeling through and discard it.

(Process. The word you're looking for, Kurou, is ''process''.)

Kurou nods to Umie. "Yes. Everything from..." He glances down. "... I should not speak without the shirogarasu's permission," he considers, when there is a greater than zero chance that Shiryuu would say it's ''Kurou's'' story to tell. "But after the occurrence..."

His eyes go hollow as he sinks into those memories, gaze unfocused.

"'This world' did not make enough sense after that, and they had taken my mother away, then. Maybe that's why... Even if time in the Dark Hour is hard to remember... I remembered here even less. ... How long did Akabane-san know about the Dark Hour before Awakening?"

There's something more important, for a moment: the face Umie had lost. His chopsticks begin to audibly crack under the strain of Kurou's grip until he opens his hand before he can make the mistake of snapping them in half.

A familiar anger takes flame in his chest. Who does he punish for that? Who's neck does he drive Soumeiunsatou's blade through?

Kurou looks up with enough abruptness to read as startled as she speaks of the consequences of awakening. "Your heart...?"

He places his hand over his own chest. No. Kurou, of all people, understands how both can be true. Even if the situation has far different timing. Umie cannot separate the thought of it from Awakening.

"... I would silence anyone who would make those jokes. It only means it was all more than a human heart was meant to hold, yet you are here, and hold it now."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> People who are used to fending for themselves take what they can get. Perhaps that's why Strega is the way they are, though Umie's not ready to inflict her sympathy (or empathy??) on them just yet.

"..." It's hard to imagine Niko being any other way than what she was like when Umie's fought her. "She said that, huh..."

Is this the power of Kurou?

"Maybe, uh..." Is Ren into karaoke?

... She shouldn't just suggest that if she doesn't know. "All the ones I know are more for just information sharing, so I can't say if they're that great song-wise."

Kurou almost volunteers that information, but stops. Umie nods. "It's fine. I don't want to land you in hot water with any of the Ryouharas." Especially after finding out that not all of them necessarily see her involvement with Shiryuu as a 'good' thing.

'This world'. So that's why Kurou divides them up the way he does. "I didn't know about any of it. The Dark Hour, Personas, demons, none of it. I didn't even know the terms people used; I just thought of the Dark Hour as 'the 13th hour' or 'Demon Hour'."

A pause. For him to ask that question. "... Did you know about the Dark Hour before you Awakened? Or... did you experience it before you Awakened?"

Was Kurou pulled into the Dark Hour?

For all the anger that Umie was so comfortable with feeling for herself, seeing Kurou's fingers against those chopsticks is alarming, even if Umie was equally concerned by the way his gaze seemed to hollow out moments before.

This is a Kurou, as well.

"Yeah. My heart. It wasn't specific to developing a Persona; it just was very stressful, from what I was told, later. Or, well, what I gathered from research."

It's rather endearing that Kurou would make those threats, but it's also pretty alarming, if Umie wasn't prepared for Kurou by virtue of him being a Ryouhara.

It seems to come with the territory.

"A-ah haha, I was just making light of it," Umie states quickly, holding her hands up. She places her hands down on the table, and relaxes. "I have Rheumatic Heart Disease; they had to install some metal heart valves. It honestly was a godsend to always have that as an excuse to get out of gym class, but the bloodthinners I take for it are why I bleed more than normal when I cut myself."

She relaxes back, smirking. "But when I have Badb, I don't have those limitations-- not that I have that many, unless I slip on my cardio."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
If Kurou has any power over the hearts of others, it would be news to him.

And if Kurou encountered a Niko who needed to fight him with the full force of her cheerful violence... well, he'd probably be fine with that, distressingly.

"Maybe Ren..." Kurou finishes in Umie's place. It isn't strange for him to say it. They've both got a quiet demeanor, so it can't be weirder for Ren than for Kurou. Right?

The other Ryouharas... Kurou is quiet, then nods. It's a sensitive subject within the clan. It may be a critical part of understanding Kurou, and yet, needs to remain something that is a family secret.

"I don't remember if I knew either," he confesses. "The Demon Hour is more fitting..."

Umie's point blank question gets, mercifully, a point blank answer. "Mm. After the incident, I woke up in the Dark Hour. And then it was like that for..." He tilts his head. He can't remember the exact number. "... a few years, until I Awakened."

He says it like it's nothing. Like it isn't the entire reason Kurou is Kurou: a boy that seems almost alien to the world of humanity, even for a Ryouhara shinobi. Like there isn't reasons for his own anger within the experience -- the same anger that seems him ready to use violence.

Right now, he has oyakodon, and it is very good. Right now, Umie explains her heart condition, and that feels much more important.

"... I see," Kurou says, demeanor losing some tension without a target to focus on. Then his eyes widen a fraction before relaxing. "... Then when Akabane-san was shot..."

It was even more dangerous than they originally imagined. His complexion is more ashen for a moment, before he shakes his head. He must prevent such a thing with more vigilance in the future.

"We will... have to make sure to train often."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'Maybe Ren...' Thankfully, Kurou thinks of the same. Umie nods. "The worst he can do is say no, and... I think it's a little easier, that he knows a little about who you are, whether he remembers or not."

Kurou may be right; maybe Ren remembers more than he's letting on. There's cases like Yoko's, after all.

But, if that's the case... they'll have to trust Ren to know that he can talk to either of them.

Out of all the things she regrets that night, shoving Ren aside, whether he was going to be in danger or not, is not one of them.

(... That... *did* happen, right? For some reason she remembers Ren blocking that blow, but if that happened, he wouldn't be alive, and Kurou would've seen it... right? She's going to have to ask Ren directly now, isn't she... damn it...)

'After the incident...' "... Wait, you... didn't awaken to a Persona then, but later? Or was that when you got your... scarf, Evoker thing?" The thought came as she spoke; maybe that's how it is for SEES? Perhaps Fuuka's case wasn't an outlier that happened due to Tartarus's warped logic. "If that's the case..." She taps a finger to her chin. "No wonder you see the Dark Hour that way. You saw the supernatural side of things, but had no way to defend against them. Demons can be negotiated with, but Shadows..."

She always had Badb, right from the start. "Ryouhara-kun... you've been through a lot. I can see where your concern for Amamiya-kun comes from. Are you thinking he's experiencing something like that?"

She hums. "... I'll meet up with him at some point. He might still try to hide things, but he'll at least know a few places he can shelter if he's caught by it. With curfew, it's not as likely, but... it's good to know your options."

At it'll maybe make Kurou feel better, too.

Dark hour, demon hour... "Yeah, but if you look at it literally, demons only happen in Sumaru City... and Mementos, I guess," she adds, "though... they do act different, when you look into things." Like that strange bullet. "I was surprised, when I was in high school... we had a school field trip one year, and I thought that maybe the Dark Hour wouldn't happen there. I was kind of excited, just to see what that was like." She leans her chin on one of her hands. "But no, it was the same thing, just... quieter. No demons."

Coffins, wherever you went.

Kurou connects the dots, and Umie nods. "Yeah. It's why my condition seemed to take a turn for the worse once we got out of that place, despite me being stabilized before that."

If they had exited through the Alaya Shrine like Joker and Ruin did... would they have been able to her her to the hospital in time?

"You and Shiryuu helped me, though. There was no way I would have properly stablized with just Badb at my side and my first aid supplies. She's... not the type that heals." None of their Personas are,
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Kurou waits on Umie's response to that, as if she might take back what she said earlier. She does not, of course. That's not a very Umie thing to do, regardless. Ren made their own case, too. It's better to keep in one another's orbit.

Or is that selfishness...? Maybe so. Either way, he must act with a heart clear of doubt.

(Listen, Kurou was late and breaking a lot of glass at the time.)

Kurou scratches his cheek, eyes wandering around the room as he searches his memories. "Jurinshin Hagoromo?" His scarf. "... No, I had it for a while, but I did not think to use it..."

They gave a boy a scarf meant to inject poison into his neck. Did they even know it worked as an Evoker? Or was it the only real 'defense' if he failed to sneak past the demons and was caught without a Persona?

Maybe it's best not to think about it.

"You cannot let the Shadows see you. Otherwise... Only the end of that 13th hour will save you." He pauses. "... And it is not always an 'hour'."

He hesitates while his mind brushes over the difficulty he might have faced. "Yes. If Ren remembers too much, then maybe it is too much like that." But as he said, it could simply be that Ren is exceedingly perceptive. An instinct tells Kurou that's probably more likely, but worry is worry.

Yet past worry, Umie has a plan. It ''does'' make Kurou feel better. "... Thank you. That is the kind of thing I cannot offer so easily." A Ryouhara safe house is not something he can tell Ren about, for Ren's own safety.

"No demons?" Or Shadows, as it were. But Kurou turns that thought around in his head. "So there are places like that..."

Thankfully, Umie is still here to share meals with Kurou and have her talks with Shiryuu. (Sure. Talking.) But it was far closer than Kurou liked, and even closer than he originally thought.

"Gashadokuro..." Kurou taps his chopsticks to his bowl. "... But... there's the painter..."

Kurou nods to himself with whatever thoughts don't make it into words, and nibbles at the last of his oyakodon.

Unescaped comma in final arg of ANSI by #457. This behavior is deprecated.
Unescaped comma in final arg of ANSI by #457. This behavior is deprecated.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Jurinshin Hagoromo..." Umie echoes, realizing Kurou meant his scarf. "Did they know it'd do this?" If Kurou wasn't a part of the NWO, she'd ask him to maybe take it to SEES, to see if they'd give him further insight. However, besides the NWO being a part of it, there's the Ryouhara part of it, as well.

"... It just reminds me, of the Evokers SEES and Strega uses. The way you look, when you're using it." Nonono, Umie, don't say Strega!!

You cannot let the Shadows see you. You can't let it see you. Don't let it see you.

"I only survived because of Badb abilities. She sees where Shadows and Demons are. It must have been similar for you too," Umie relates. "Your abilities, as a shinobi."

Umie's offer *does* make Kurou feel better, at least. "We'll see what happens. If he turns out to be like you, maybe you can help him."

Umie nods sagely. "No demons. I would know: I worked night shifts in Sumaru *and* Shibuya. One had demons coming in and asking for ice cream. The other, you made sure the doors were blocked."

It helps that Umie has had a full week or two to settle into the idea that Ren had been exposed to the supernatural, through her actions.

.... nothing has exploded. Yet. Ren even sought Kurou out.

'Why did Amamiya-kun go to Ryouhara-kun, but not you, hm? Maybe...' No. No. Umie can't start that, now. if Ren blames her, or if he was going to reject her...

That'd probably be wise. It's been established that she ruins things--

No. No, that's not fair, to anyone who came to help her. No one hesitated. Even Ren. Though, maybe that was her memory being jumbled up.

'... Go on. Ask yourself. Be realistic.'

Umie rubs her face, and gets up, her face looking slightly pale. "... I need to get some water."

Walking to the sink for some water, she clears her throat and leans on the counter.

There's the painter, Kurou says, as she drinks. "The painter..." Pause. "Oh, you mean the painter, at that blue bar place."

That may need an explanation. She turns. "... well, that's what I thought it was, as a kid. Scared the shit out of me, thinking I was going to get into trouble."

She chuckles, at the thought, her earlier malaise temporarily forgotten. "Here, you want seconds? You're still growing, after all."

Kurou'll always have seconds. Umie will make sure of it.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
"I'm not sure," Kurou says. "This type of device is usually meant to shoot the needles outward. So... I don't know why I thought to do anything else... To use it on myself. I just thought... 'I already died. I cannot die again unless I live.'"

Sometimes, strange instinct is the nature of Awakening. But who knew about it, if anyone, is a mystery even to Kurou.

"But Niko-chan doesn't like it if I say I died."

He's still not grasped that one fully, only that he has to remember not to say it in front of her. And maybe also try to think of it differently... he's working on it.

"Yes. Without my training as Ryouhara, or access to our clan's tools... I do not think I would have survived the first night." He pauses as he tries to reflect on the nature of Umie's Persona, but the memory that comes to mind is looking at that panel that threatened to awaken a terrible fear, and his vision becoming shielded by a figure... "I am glad there is Badb..."

Umie mentions ice cream, and Kurou's gaze threatens to go dark. "So that's why that fairy..." No, no that has nothing to do with anything!!

But while Kurou contemplates the nature of demons who want ice cream and the conspiracies therein, Umie goes pale. Kurou looks up with another one of his blank blinks. "Ah..."

He nods slowly as she talks of the 'blue bar place', which also seems more descriptive than the Velvet Room, and perhaps Kurou should not be allowed to ever name anything. Maybe with the help of the painter, it would be... less frightening next time...

That is an action for later. For now: seconds.

"Yes, please," Kurou says, bright eyed.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> A weapon, used to shoot needles outward...

'I already died. I cannot die again unless I live.'

A death response? It made as much sense as Umie naturally calling on Badb the moment a doorknob jiggled on her hospital room door.

A wry smiles spreads on Umie's lips. "... She didn't particularly like it when I joked anout the Reaper showing up once, either." At the time, it fed into Umie's own narrative of 'ruining' things, but now, she sees a different perspective of it.

The smile disappears as Kurou mentions being glad there was a Badb.

The Badb in literature and folklore was not a traditionally 'protective' creature, any more than a wildfire was protective of the trees it burned through, all while serving a valuable, cleansing roll.

The Badb, when viewed through Umie, looks on the deepest reaches of fear and despair, and laughs back as much as it laughs with it. In that way, it is a shield for Umie, and... for the soul that Umie has come to deeply care about protecting, whose response matched Umie's own in that moment.

"I am glad there is a Gashadokuro. Gashadokuro is a good, powerful skeleton." The blonde makes a point of looking at Kurou directly. "And I am glad there is a Kurou Ryouhara-kun, who came to rescue me that day, and helped me, Shiryuu, and Joker-san, on another day."

As for ice cream...

"That fairy...? Pixies do like ice cream sometimes, but--" Oh. OH. Umie makes a face. "Yeaaahhh, Trish has always been like that. My parents always thought I was being so irresponsible with my money, but in reality? It was Trish and her damn prices."

"But, unlike her..." She takes Kurou's bowl with a proud smirk. "I won't let you go hungry, Ryouhara-kun~!"
</poem>

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-07-14: A Magazine for Two

2026-07-22T04:07:18Z

Tanyuu:

*'''Log: A Magazine for Two'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Shiryuu Ryouhara]], [[Umie Akabane]]
*'''Where:''' Narumi Memorial Hospital, Narumi Ward, Sumaru City
*'''OOC Date:''' July 14, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 09, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''Recovering after the events of the Mizunagi's disappearance, Umie isn't sure what's worse: the waiting for something to go wrong, or the boredom. Thankfully, she's not the only one there who's in the same boat, nor the only one anxious to see if someone she cares about is okay.''

----

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
He spent some time touring the impact site.

Was it the same ship? It's impossible to tell. As far as he could surmise, it didn't seem like it was, or at the very least the ship was active on an axis he couldn't quite detect. The places were different, and what little he could see past the cordoned zone, his weapon did not appear to beon the main deck anymore. Damn.

It puts him in a bit of a predicament.

The boy sighs in annoyance, striding out of the supply room, cinching a spare length of what-used-to-be-linens around his middle in a tumbled knot, securing the hospital byoui more snugly around his waist until it at least resembled something like a keikogi, though the hem on the loose, gauzy trousers was much, much shorter than he would have preferred, and so his calves are wrapped in linen as well to the ankles, as well as the arches of his heels.

The nurse will be most displeased with him when the Dark Hour ends, he thinks, dragging his intravenous stand with him with a little squeal. "It's fine," Shiryuu reasons to no one in particular.

His nurse is an absolute tyrant, and he'll have no more of her meddling. She already took both of his remaining knives and probably reported them to the authorities, which has left him to palm and hide several scalpels through his hospital room, which she then also confiscated. Now Shiryuu is resorted to ransacking the supply room for bone saws and lancets, like a common criminal.

He would call and send for another sword, but the board of education only recognizes Bankasoujin as a legal performance art prop, and his paperwork doesn't cover ... most of what else he could send for.

It's an unconscionable situation, especially considering their predicament concerning Ruin.

Shiryuu looks out the window, at the sickly moon casting the only light. His intravenous stand could be used as a weapon, he supposes. It's really the only reason he's staying here -- they've already wrapped his head in a disgusting amount of gauze and wrap, his left eye completely sealed shut at this point. He wouldn't stick around for further abuse by the abominable Minako, but...

...she did say something about Akabane and Kurou having rooms the next floor down.

The boy with the spray of grey hair looks long-sufferingly at the elevator. Then his gaze tilts slightly, grimly, to the goddamn stairwell next to it. He sighs and starts padding, bare-footed, to the latter. His stand squeaks slightly, audibly as he drags it after him.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Is the mask truly that necessary? Outside of that congnitive space, it was just a curiosity, earning Umie a raised eyebrow from the staff, but nothing else. (After all, this is hardly the strangest thing they've seen that night.) It was taken off immediately, along with her clothing, as soon as treatment began.

Kurou was correct in terms of triage, however: blood loss, a bullet wound, a fracticed clavicle, and a number of other injuries have left Umie in a terrible state.

.... That state being 'having to deal with having her left arm in a sling', with the other having to serve as her only means of manipulating the TV remote. Alas, that puts her in a bit of a predictament, as she can either let the Mark remain hidden underneath that bit of her sheet, or she can furiously flick through channels like a roaming tiger, restlessly searching for nourishment from the flatscreen TV.

She can't even do origami, or string games. Not to mention, she'd be easy prey for Ruin once the Dark Hour hits.

However, by the time the Dark Hour hits, Umie has become convinced that having Ruin monologue her would be so much better than daytime TV, variety shows, and drama reruns she's only half interested in.

For better or worse, she manages to fall into sleep, leaving her passage into the Dark Hour unremarkable.

Unfortunately, she wakes up soon afterwards out of force of habit, leaving her staring at the green tinted ceiling, thinking about the starless night in the enclosed garden.

.... It is there for her, every night; that still world.

....

"Well, if you're there, you might as well come out and get it over with," she grumpily mumbles. "Spend one day confined to a bed, stuck with daytime TV. You'd be begging for death too, I imagine..."

A bouquet of flowers lies on the table, with a 'Get Well' card.

"... I wouldn't mind a magazine or two, if you're feeling merciful." She frowns. "Or maybe not that. You seem like the sort of guy who'd pick a children's magazine or worse, something adult that'd made the nurse staff wonder what sort of deviant they have in their midst..."

Her eyelids lower. "... Ah, so... you're not there at all, are you? Ruin-san."

Her eyelids fall closed, finally. "So it's just me, talking to myself... well, I'm used to that."

*squeak, squeak*

Umie shoots wide awake in an instant at the approaching sound as Badb finally manifests into the air over her, a comforting blanket against the monsters of the night.

It wouldn't help against Ruin, but it may give her a sense of someone, or something, coming nearby.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Ugh. Discomforts all around.

The problem was less that Shiryuu was unfit to navigate a single flight of stairs -- inconceivable -- and it was more that the anchor he's been ingraciously forced to carry with him is apparently the worst one amongst all of the IV stands in the entire hospital that Oniko could have selected for his convalescence.

He had tried to affirm to her that he didn't need anything other than a bandage and he'd be happy to leave. Obviously not. Blood loss! Bruised ribs. Deep tissue trauma, suspected lacrimal hemorrhage, hyphema. Ugh. The worst was severe dehydration. The malevolent puma must have tacked the last part on purely to embarrass him. He just got out of the flooded compartments of a sunken ship. He's swallowed more water in the last twenty four hours than he's had for the entire month previous, it's impossible.

And yet here he is, an unwilling captive to some diagnostic tests he was sure was just a pretense to get his shirt off, dragging the world's most cumbersome bag of saline down a set of stairs that feel exactly one inch too small per step for the casters, which the boy is additionally convinced were constructed in the late Bakumatsu period, definitely predating the Restoration.

At least Shiryuu was able to throw the coquettishly loose grip socks out the window shortly after being made to put them on. It feels good to rebel against your oppressors.

To his dismay, Shiryuu had to walk to the other side of the floor to find a charge nurse's patient registry book in the appropriate wing, which he promptly commandeers to locate Akabane's room. Based on what he could find out, he strongly suspects Kurou may have been taken for additional testing. The leeches. "Better not be probing him," Shiryuu mutters to himself. Blink.

"...better not probe me either."

Second blink. "...better not be ..."
No, she'd definitely have something to say about that.

Shiryuu becomes annoyed and makes a discomfited face in record time. "N..." why is he even talking. "_Where is she_" the boy grumbles, trying to make sense of the apparently equally diabolical charge nurse's handwriting.

Oh, it's probably the one with chatter coming from it.
And now, a Persona hanging over it.
Shiryuu frowns.

"Iya, iya..." Squeak, squeak. Squeeeak. Squeeeak.

"...ready to tear the place down over a mouse or two," Ryouhara comments, as he labors his way through the door.

"You're a rambunctious one, Akabane."

Despite his predicament, Shiryuu at least passingly manages to put the hospital robe to task as somewhat reasonable clothing with a few wraps of pilfered linen, though the soft pale green and dark green fabrics of the byoui are roughly four inches shorter in every dimension than he'd like them. His jade earrings match his choker, which is apparently something he's worn underneath his turtleneck the whole time, and the soft cordage is still looped around his right wrist, which is now regrettably more exposed as the hand he holds himself up with by the IV stand. Even if the byoui upper has slightly generous sleeves, they still hang down to his forearm when tilted. Luckily, the golding bone saw is tucked in the sash at his back.

".... but what's this about children's books and adult magazines? What are you even *up* to.."

Asking Ruin for dirty magazines, eh? Shiryuu makes sure to cast doubt over the entire matter. And the flowers, for good measure.

The only thing he got in his room was a hard time.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> As Umie feels and recognizes Shiryuu's nearing resonance through Badb's sight, the tension in her body is allowed to deplete, letting out that clenched breath she was holding for far too long.

Instead, it's matched with a sort of giddiness, knowing he was visiting, coming to see her.

Her prince, she mentally quips. But this is not the balcony scene of Romero and Juliet, who were not prince and princess in the fairy tale sense, nor were they known for having a happy ending.

'Iya, iya...' *squeak, squeak*

The Badb dissolves into dark grey feathers and fog over Umie's bed, leaving Umie there, her head turned towards Shiryuu as he enters, squeaking IV pole and all.

"They let you keep those, huh..." Umie remarks, her eyes looking over the jade earrings, choker, and bracelet. "They had to take my earrings out."

It allowed him to carry some of that dignity over, despite the IV drip pole and hospital gown(s). She tries not to look too long, as she considers that, even if her eye is tempted to stay looking, just a little longer.

Even like this... he is still Shiryuu. She can't help but smile, seeing him inching over to her. Her hair is spread out in limp clumps around her, dark brown weaving in at the roots at the top of her head; there's not even a fine ponytail to mark the occasion, much less her usual buns. At least it's clean, having been washed earlier when nurses her prepping her for examination.

"I figured, if Ruin was waiting in the shadows," Umie surmises, "he could at least be helpful. But even a magazine isn't that good when your hands are occupied." One is in that sling: not because it's broken, but because of the fractured clavicle that arm is connected to. Not a serious injury by itself; she could have easily dealt with this at home. The other wrist, while able to move around if she's careful, is still bandaged up, due to the damage that wrist recieved when Ruin slammed into it.

"... At least we're both a mess. " Umie gestures with her chin. "Go on, have a seat."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Prince. Shiryuu has no concept of the idea, and doesn't feel anything like it. 'They let you keep those, huh...'

"They didn't," Shiryuu grouses in annoyance, stalking down the hall. "I'm still looking for my shoes." Yes, the implication is that the only reason Shiryuu hasn't come sooner is because he was busy in all out war with the nursing staff, locked in a perpetual cycle of theft and confiscation. Luckily, they weren't very concerned about ear infections, so the earrings seemed to be a low risk keep.

It doesn't satiate him at all -- he's still being held in a fascist regime.

It's likely that ardent lack of satisfaction that draws Shiryuu to Akabane; like a moth to a particularly bright flame. The boy stalks across the cool tile floor on the balls of his bare feet, barely supported by the linen wrapping his arches. It takes him more than a moment -- as he appears to fight with the IV stand, the source of all of his current annoyance, looping the line back around the pole so it doesn't get caught in its penchant to twist, as he drags it over.

It's actually quite clear that his staff gave him a terrible IV stand so he could be heard trying to sneak around.

"Mmm." He stops off at the table nearby, gathering a copy of a home magazine on his way, possibly also salvaged from the same castle that the IV stand's caster wheel came from in 1864. "I'm only a mess because my clothes are being held hostage by unfeeling tyrants," Shiryuu points out annoyedly, with a flat expression. Following the direction of her glance, the boy elects instead to lean at the edge of her bed, doing his absolute best to keep his IV in while he balances the magazine on a propped leg, awkwardly opening it until it drapes over his thigh. He at first looks at it with fierce determination.

Then he realizes Umie is watching him.

"...iito...ahem." Suddenly exceedingly self-conscious, Shiryuu flips a page with the crisp studied dexterity of a practiced academic. Then he tries to smile charmingly. Fails. Manages something kind of like it. Realizes he's doing that. Then realizes he's staring at her hair. Suddenly Shiryuu is very grim and staring into the magazine with redoubled resolve.

"Don't worry about that man," Shiryuu reasons, coldly. "If he decided to try again, he would have already, and would have had to face me directly." Shiryuu finds a page.

"... I'll find your earrings," he says, without looking up.

"What is a ... 'honey fermented charoset?'" Shiryuu wonders, looking at the page with a big two page spread of what looks like apple cinnamon oatmeal without the oats. Just ... apple cinnamon meal. "'This is a great recipe for the cold winter times,'" he reads to her. "'If your family is anything like mine, you can enjoy this warm richly spiced meal right by the fireside...'" ...he frowns. "This text is complete fluff. What is it, where is -- oh. I guess it's apples. Mmm. I guess I'll continue, this would be fine for you. Is -- mm. It's definitely not an _adult_ magazine, but if there's more apples, it should be okay."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'They didn't.' Umie blinks, her head lifting slightly off the pillow to look towards his feet, as if she needed confirmation they were bare.

Then, she cackles. "I should've known... the shihaisha, forced to wear something he didn't want to wear, *and* forced to give up his jewelry? Those nurses were born a hundred years too early~"

As her head hits back against the pillow with a 'poff', Umie watches Shiryuu there with an amused gaze and matching grin, filtered through lowering eyelashes.

"And they gave you a squeaky IV pole on top of it... truly, you are tormented."

She's beaming at him. If that smile's just a little too sharp or a little too crooked, Shiryuu will have to forgive her; she's just that much more happy to see him here. And she's happy to watch him, in his best element: a little surly, a little awkward, dignified like an exotic breed of cat that has to waggle one of its paws due to stepping in a puddle.

It is like catnip to Umie, in every way, to watch him try to settle on the edge of her hospital bed with the grace befitting the shirogarasu (or what Umie imagines is customary).

With a magazine in hand, no less, which surprises Umie. There was one there, but it was a dusty.... home... magazine...

nevermind let the boy cook

With every smile, this Dark Hour is looking to be better and better.

She realizes he's looking at her hair. "Yeah," Umie looks upwards. "Could use some conditioner, but that's always the case. Locks this pale don't get that way without some sacrifice." He... *does* know she's not a natural blonde, right

well that's okay, either way

Shiryuu assures her that the bad bad assassin man won't come after her, because he would have already (and he'd have to face Shiryuu, which is an important modifier to that first statement).

He'll find her earrings. "They're with my stuff. It's fine." She shakes her head. "Just spend some time with me. I'd rather have that."

... especially because the silver-haired boy is serving some mighty good food, yessss "I don't know," Umie admits, grinning. "Read on and see."

Ah, he judges this suitable, because it has apples in it. "Nothing too spicy; my health is very delicate right now," she teases. "You might have to censor some parts, like where they talk about peeling the apples... or add spices like cinnamon..."

oh that smile is WAY TOO SHARP RIGHT NOW
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Shiryuu is not impressed by word one of the unbunned's pleasures at his plight. "Iih," the one-eyed boy objects at first, more sound than word around an annoyed glare into the history of charoset. "You don't have to sound so excited about it," he morosely objects after a minute, making an excellent show of flipping the page with the book precariously balanced still. He's pretending to see how long the article is.

Oh, it's very long, Ryouhara.

"The security here is poor," he explains, "so they're trying to use substandard equipment to keep me from enacting my will."

The boy looks ahead, this time at the dark television. "They won't win over me that easily. That charge nurse's days on unit 4E are done." His gaze burns with martial determination.

Thus invited, Shiryuu is only put off of his temporary rivalry by Umie's attention, joining her in looking up at her hair. "Ii--" He stares some more. One would guess that Shiryuu doesn't actually know she's not a natural blonde, from the way his voice drifts off from feudal-era commitment. Is he not familiar with the concept of hair dye?

No, that's silly. Remember that Shiryuu's subordinates are Kiria and Kurou. A disturbing number of Ryouhara clan members dye their hair, so it would make no sense for him to be unfamiliar with the idea. It's more that...

'Just spend some time with me.... read on.'

"Um." She might as well had been talking to a cloud for all Shiryuu was listening. "... right."

He flips the page back, trying to find out where he last left off. "Ah, let's see. Oh. Here. 'Charoset is a type of ambrosia,'" he reads, "'typically enjoyed by Jews as a symbol during Passover.' Hm. I guess it's something you would give a powerful Yudayajin to gain their favor and talent..." He studies further. "'The lovely firm texture of this affair can be understood to represent the mortar associated with slavery in the time of Moses. It's a richly fermented spread,' -- oh, like natto? Hmm.. -- 'of dates, figs, and apricots, which pair in a mesmerizingly spiced mix with honey, sweet crisp apples, cloves and cardamom to create the unforgettable aroma. It is traditionally enjoyed with diced nuts and a piece of --' mattozah? Mm?"

Though his reading is immaculate, that word does strain his pronunciation a bit, because he's too stubborn not to recognize when a word is spelled out in katakana for a reason. It gets worse from there. "...matzah," he decides. "'It is traditionally enjoyed with diced nuts and a piece of -' matzah, '- along with bitters like fermented horseradi--' --- iie? wait, what? Horseradish and apples?? What sort of devil food is this??"

Incredulous, Shiryuu looks to Umie -- once, twice!! -- for support, as if she were involved in this somehow and could put a stop to it. Unsurprisingly, the level of support he receives is 'none.'

She's talking about getting spicy with the apples! Shiryuu makes a flat face at her, holding the book half closed. "Th, this isn't that type of book, you succubus!!" Upended for the moment from his distress about sweet apples and horseradish, the boy finally takes matters into his own hands. "You're not helping!!" he complains, "you need to take care of your health."

As if to prove his point (or exercise his spite), Shiryuu shoots out, sliding his hand -all- the way into the rambunctious Umie's hair while it's loose, fingertips feathering over her brow before he checks her hair all the way to the back, scritching through her roots with a firm, investigative hand. "Hrrn," the ninja mulls, teasing at her scalp.

"All things considered, your hair is fine," the boy decides. "Tangled, but soft enough." Strands rolled experimentally between a thumb and forefinger, before surfacing to smooth the whole mess back behind her ears so it doesn't get all over the place on her pillow.

No, that takes longer than expected, as the boy thumbs a strand across her temple and along her ear.

"If you get yourself too kicked up into a devillish lather," Shiryuu tells her, his attention span fully occupied now, "your healing won't go as well, and I'll send you back to Rikuto...right?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "They underestimated you." Umie's right hands shifts in reaction to that, responding to her wish to raise her hand up and sell her (not actual) shock of Shiryuu's bravado over his newest rival. "My nurses have been pretty decent, considering," she continues, her tone shifting to a more casual mein. "It can be a crapshoot once they see my Mark, but this time, I could skip some awkward looks since my wrist had to be bandaged this time around. Lucky me, I guess~"

Shiryuu may as well not be listening, judging by how he's looking at her fried, soft locks. "Ehh... keep staring like that and you'll make a girl self-conscious," she lightly quips. "Or are you so taken in by my delicate innocent beauty that you'll give me white roses as well, in hopes the wan candle of my life isn't snuffed out by the cruelty of life...?"

She does wear white, but white roses...
.... They do not suit her, despite that being the color of the bouquet by the window.

She stays appropriately quiet for Shiryuu's story time, trying her best to keep from smiling as the shihaisha stumbles over concepts beyond his understanding. "Maybe it's the combination of sweet and sour." That's all the help Shiryuu is getting, unfortunately.

And the help she gives beyond that doesn't fare much better, as she leans further into the identity of the wan sickly princess. (Tomorrow, she will regret this, when Akechi reveals the rumors that have fermented on the Dark Side boards like jarred horseradish (themely!).)

But today, her punishment is in Shiryuu slipping his fingers through her locks, drawing the grinning goblin to a complete stop as he teases his hand in. He might notice how her cheeks have gone apple red (also themely!), though how she bows her head forward (helpfully?!) it may be hard to make out.

"A-ah..." She is mercifully quiet, defeated with a masterful stroke of the shirogarasu's hand.

He'd of course see where the darker roots are beginning to come in, an advancing front of nature reasserting her true colors that will have no end.

"... ii...." The blonde attempts to stammer out, to Shiryuu's assessment. Let's right that again... "I-it's not the softness, it's the... uh... thinness."

He takes his time with those strands, thumbing it across her temple and along her ear. Her eyes are down, cheeks red. ".... I didn't mind Rikuto-san that much," she says, softly, self-conscious only how much she enjoys his touch, despite all the times (and examples) she's had to get used to it, and has even pursued it. Despite all of that, he always manages to find those ways to draw her to a quiet, red-faced girl all over again. "He was gruff, but he has to deal with an entire clan full of shinobi, right...? Anyone'd be grumpy from that..."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
The course of the moment changes rapidly over the tumble of just a few seconds. The first, Shiryuu is characteristically aggressive, spurred like a horse by her rambunctious nature to lean across her bed and accost the self-described 'delicate innocent beauty' with a lightning blitz. Likely, in that moment, he's handled bloodthirsty Shadows slower than he does Akabane.

But then, as things tend to with them, Shiryuu is compelled to be kinder.

Losing all sense of the impropriety of the moment while in her scent, the grey-haired boy's IV stand squeaks pensively as if in caution as he leans closer, balancing the suddenly forgotten magazine across his propped knee in the silence.

She stammers a failed reply at him. He's not paying attention.

He is far more delicate with her hair than his, the wandering graze of thumb and forefinger to parcel out little wayward strands across her brow, to soothe a recently-embattled scalp by coaxing her hair in order. Shiryuu's sole unwrapped eye is not actually meeting hers, so he isn't at all aware of the flush in her cheeks, or the unease in her voice, fervently examining Akabane's hair.

He seems only distantly aware that she's saying something's wrong with it. It does not inspire him to take her at her word.

The boy makes a soft, unamused sound, a low trickle of bassline vibrant noise born somewhere deep in his chest well before it ever slips past his lips. It's completely unconscionable that the nurses have left her in this state. "...don't they know you like to have your hair up," the boy murmurs quietly, more judgmental and to himself than Umie.

Folding the magazine open neatly to keep the page and setting it to the side to free a hand, the onmitsu pats his makeshift sash in annoyance, as if failing to predict this exact moment and not stealing a comb was an oversight he could curse himself for. Finally producing a thin butterfly needle pack from his sash, the boy breaks it open with his teeth, popping the tubule off of the back end of the needle and spitting it off to the side to parts unknown.

Keeping the needle in its sterile sleeve, Shiryuu grows a touch more purposeful with her. He uses both the little soft nip of the plastic wing and the rounded end of the sheath to slowly, systematically draw her hair into plaits, running his fingertips through. "...hold still," he thinks aloud at her, taking her jawline just under hand to hold her in just the right position.

For awhile, he doesn't even notice the darkened roots coming in, the featherlight of her hair with his short, purposeful movements. It's really only when it catches in the weird moonlight from the window as it shifts, bands of sickly light crawling across the bed with the passage of the clouds.

A thumbtip muses at the ink-dark strands sorted around the plastic green wing, where the color changes to blonde. In a roundabout way, one could think that things always go back to the way they're supposed to be, in time. Shiryuu doesn't care, not in the aesthetic way, but ...

The boy's expression wanes with the fade of his determined mien, a half-lidded eye downcast, his gaze breaking across the bed to the nightstand, to the exit, checking as if he'd heard a noise, and staying there.

Is ... the natural order of things really so hard to chase away?

"... it's just ... it was just tangled up, that's all," Shiryuu replies without looking, as an afterthought, after a whole forever, enough so to lay entirely out of context to the point of what she said. It sticks out like a sore thumb, and Shiryuu's eager to move on.

A tiny sniff of the air, and the boy sets back to his work. Lifting his wrists, he carefully reaches deeply, behind her as he turns her hair between his hands into a loose tail. The weight of the bed shifts towards him as he leans in, closely enough that she can feel the warmth of his breath distantly laced along her shoulder. He's using touch to navigate the nape of Akabane's neck, to gather up loose strands in the hook of the wing.

He doesn't do it as tightly as she does. She'll notice his hesitation to hurt her, when he pulls her hair into a low, messy bun at the back of her head, folding and tying her hair around itself for the last moment, only just snug enough that it won't itch and not a scintilla more.

It's hard for him not to frame her jawline as he pulls away from her. He only then becomes aware of exactly how warm her cheeks are.

"...ah..." Shiryuu finds his balance a little awkwardly as he starts to lean back, sighing. "I'm not very good with hair," he explains, truthfully. "So ... it probably won't last very long," the boy guesses, a note of something lost in his voice.

"I'll have to break out of my unit to come and fix it tomorrow, probably. But.."

"....just don't do silly things," he changes the subject. Hopefully she doesn't not-mind Rikuto that much, at least. Or really. He pulls the magazine back into his lap, sighing slowly at the recipe blazoned across his thigh now. It's taken on a more diabolical bent, now that Shiryuu knows people eat it with horseradish. It feels better to look at something. To look at her, maybe, and then remind himself of what he was doing a moment or two before.

".... if you're good," Shiryuu remarks coolly, imperiously, "we can make this and take it to Rikuto together."

It feels like the right thing to say.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> There are people Umie is this way with: unique people, who have dodged Umie's need to either push or impress them: charm, or harm, in other words. There are the people she wants to impress: the Jokers, the Akechis (how the heck did those two end up in the same example so close together), the Katsuyas, many, many others. There are the ones Umie tries to push away, despite how they reach out to her: the Bride and her Groom.

But where does that put people like Kurou, or those like Yoko? Or people like Tamaki?

"Ah, my delicate head~!" And where does Shiryuu sit, firmly pushed away at first, then, when his touch turned gentle, when it traced the outline of her Mark as asked her if it *hurt*...

They were still harsh on each other, even then, as the sides were drawn, and the two tried to find some conclusion to something that shouldm't be.

Then, just like now, they were compelled to be kinder, and the teasing narrows to blushes and a need to touch back. The fingers of her right hand jerk, even if she knows she shouldn't move them. She can, just like she could move her left arm, but it would be like moving a sprained ankle, or a strained muscle that is still very tender.

He's close. Even through the smell of the hospital, cleaning materials, and disinfectant, there's still the scent of rain and citrus coming from him. (And with her, the smell of night air and low-hanging mist.)

His fingers are gentle, his voice deep in his chest.

She could have lost this, so easily. If she hadn't acted at all, he would have been...

Would she have known? Would Ruin have known the way to taunt him, as he died?

The terrible thought isn't allowed to bloom, remaining in its hard bud as Umie tilts her head at the package of thin butterfly needles. "Ah?" An eyebrow raises as he opens the package with his teeth, but she says no more, as he tells her to hold still.

Her heartbeat quickens as his intent is clarified by action, his manner laid in his meticulous attention to each detail. "... I haven't had a chance to... retouch my roots." Her words are incidental, an unneeded apology as Shiryuu.

That isn't the reason why Shiryuu is browsing a thumbtip there. Only her eyes move as Shiryuu moves his attention towards the exit.

If a shadow or demons is there... she will surely decimate it for daring to come here.

Let her have this.
Hasn't she behaved?
Hasn't she been good?
Let her have this peace.

His attention returns, to that tangled mess, bringing it into order. The feel of his breath on her shoulder sends a shiver down her spine; he may feel it, depending on where his fingers lay against skin and hair.

He's not very good with hair, he says. So.. it probably won't last very long, he says.

'Just don't do silly things.'
'.... if you're good, we can make this and take it to Rikuto together.'

"What sorts of silly things," she whispers, lifting her IV-fed right arm to politely hook a finger into his hospital gown, trying to lead him back, close to her, and her lips, as she raises to try to close that distance.

"Ones like this?" She leans in, ignoring the sting of shifting needles, as she brings her lips against Shiryuu's own.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Infuriating. Shiryuu will have none of her protest -- the nurses have clearly been devoting too much time to keeping him contained and not enough time looking after their other, more important patients. The only reason Shiryuu is even allowing himself to be poked and prodded at by sublunar tyrants is to make sure Akabane gets quality care while still remaining in his zone of absolute security.

And now look, she's being left in a terrible state...

(...but then, is this all not his responsibility, anyway?)

The moment is harshly, sharply unrequited. It would be naive to think that some part of him isn't hyperaware of her, his blood fluttering in tender veins as his skin warms in her proximity, the fine tick of his wrists betraying both his movements and his heartbeat as he gathers up her locks along the nape of her neck. It'd be naive to think that the utilitarianism of their proximity, the reality of those stolen touches to remind himself that she's still alive didn't bear an entirely different subtext.

But this close the subtext didn't really matter, and the boy traipses on with her, that fleet of small, bold together and accord.

It doesn't chase away the sharp nock of a thought in him; the thing that causes his expression to change, to tighten when seeing her like this, the thought that brought them there.

The boy with the grey hair leans back away from her, lingering only for as long as a thief might brave, returning to the page and its demon fermentation as he might to normalcy, a soft, awkward sound from his throat as he clears it. He can compose himself, openly pretending to flip the page as if he'd literally cared at all what was on the other side. "Ahem..now where was I," he thinks, rationally structuring the situation.

"...I mean," he remarks quietly, "that y-- ...hey, what're you, you're going to..."

Intravenous lines cross, the plastic lines sagging against one another as she politely pulls the two of them back together.

The muted squeak of an unoiled caster sounds like a gunshot in the Dark, a moment to censor the soft breath and the sotto voce sound of a small, sweet kiss. Instinctively, the boy's singular eye shutters as he tilts into her demand, the scent of morning mist at firstlight threading into his senses.

"...ah? ... mm.."

She'll feel him there, hands bunching up tightly in her gown, in her blankets. His grip on her has been far more direct in the past, and the spiral bunch of fabric is tells at exactly how much the boy feels. His first kiss is gentle, fitful, a single breath spared between them. The second -- deeper, a longer, darker course. His eye shut far more tightly in that moment.

Third... fourth... the edges blur, as he leans in closer, as the magazine drops with a papery flutter to the tile beneath his feet.

"Nn.."

Hands slowly climb her blankets, her clothes, settling at her mantle. The heat of his kiss brightens, sharpens. Another second, another moment, his arms would be around her, satiating days of --

*paf*

Ryouhara breaks off the kiss. In a moment he's breathing slowly, a stringline of wild hair down his eyes as he firmly pushes them apart -- him in some form of upright, and her back into her pillow, pinning her there gently.

"....we're going to pull out your line," Shiryuu manages, breathlessly. "You... just like that," he tries to say exactly how and why doing all as they please is bad, especially now. His first try is not at all intelligible.

".... couldn't handle it if you got hurt,"

It's an admission that carries more weight to him than the moment, but his hands keep her at bay for anything more. No, even in the way he touches her, even in the way his thumbs graze past the line of her own gown and along her collarbone, bare skin stroked fondly.

He still hasn't fully caught up with his breathing.
"just... you need to get better, okay?"
She needs to be as far away from that bullet as possible, he says without saying, hands on her shoulders still and loathe to lift them. She can feel the way he thinks of lifting from her, to put any kind of space between them for safety.

He never does.

It'd be naive to think that this too, wasn't born of desperate need.
But sometimes, Shiryuu can be naive.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> They had watched each other nearly die, and came to each other's aid many times.

Just this moment of closeness feels like a miracle, a rebellion against the established narrative, like someone forgot to write in the part where both of them were tragically torn apart. Everyone loves a tragic love story, right? It adds that salt to the sweetness, makes it feel like something that could happen, because life is never fair.

Love stories never include the awkward moments, where one of them uses the other as a bid to get some complementary choco, or the other insists on throwing out a fan because they had gotten better ones, with little panda faces on them.

Or how a perfectly good bath was allowed to go lukewarm because its occupant was too busy making out on the flooring of the kitchenette. The injuries, the awkward posturing, the inability to be direct with your feelings, until one side is worn down.

Maybe they do, nowadays? Because those are the best moments, Umie finds. The mighty shihaisha is flawed, young, and unfortunately, very, very awkward, and she loves it all.

The blood that rises to his skin beats brightly against hers, still diminished from blood loss, but quickly rising back to health with every moment she has Badb at her side, and outside of that, medical care and youth, thin blood and metal heart valves be damned.

'Ahem.. now where was I,' he begins, drawing away from her.

Nope, Umie is not having any of it. Screw that magazine, it didn't nearly die on her, no matter what the 'Letters to the Editor' section may say. This is the poor, poor person who must deal with the fullest amount of what Umie is like at her worst, no manners, no inclination to impress or push him away, just her, Umie Akabane.

God help this poor, poor shinobi, as his willingness expresses itself so clearly by that second kiss. By the third, she manages to laugh into his own breath, the sound of blood overshadowing the sound of the magazine to the ground. How thoughtless, after all that magazine has done in entertaining a decade or three's worth of bored, desparate patients!

No, it is Shiryuu who comes to his senses, breathlessly leaning back as Umie does likewise, feeling the pressure of his hand pushing her against the pillow, and him away.

Some hairs have come undone, as he had predicted, laying over rosy cheeks and an open, and then closing mouth.

"... Y-yeah," she agrees. One second passes. Two. Three.

That's all that's needed for that openmouthed red line of a smile to blossom, as if she had been caught red-handed.

"Well, Ruin-san is definitely not here. I'm sure he'd hate for anyone to be enjoying themselves in front of him." shut up Umie, you were scared shitless earlier today

Five. Six. Seven-- Ah, there we go. Pain's back. Ow. Ow. Ow. Owowowowowowo

Her left shoulderblade and her right wrist hurt from her raising them, the latter smarting from the way she grips at Shiryuu's back, red chipped nails careless over his hospital gown. Also, yeah, the IV lines are not exactly positioned to allow for passionate makeouts.

Umie's lips cleave into a line against the prickles of pain. "It'll be fine," she assures, and shall assure more than one person, over the course of the next few days. "... But... y-yeah, probably shouldn't. Monitors are going to start screaming when the Dark Hour ends, otherwise..." that is not the most important reason, Umie!!!

The reason for any of this, is... ".... I nearly lost you. If I hadn't come... I would have lost you. Even with everyone there, we still barely escaped."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
She's dangerous, he reminds himself, a thought to be lost somewhere in the back of his mind. Shiryuu keeps the space between them enforced for far longer than is strictly necessary, for far longer than it takes for them to catch their breath and even still long after he's fairly sure Umie won't try to get them into a situation again.

Not dangerous to him. Not in the slightest. Exactly the opposite, really.

His fingertips grazing her lightly as he leans back, it takes a long time for the boy to take his hands off of her. Even so, he threads her hair behind her ear with a quiet sigh, reminded only of the scruffy mess his linen-wrapped mop has become, and flicking his own out of his eyes as if reminded, composing himself.

It seems a little bit more scandalous after the kiss, honestly. Shiryuu looks away, pointedly, purposefully avoiding doing anything untoward, like climbing in the bed with her.

"S--stop joking around," Ryouhara insists lamely. It's at the raw end of that little wave of pain, Shiryuu managing to speak only after his frisson of open alarm passes, after he's done checking her over to make sure her wound didn't reopen, after her hands drop away, only for one to be trapped squarely between his. By that time, the gild of troubled aggression in his voice has been exhausted, and his objection only has as its buttress a mildly vexed look. The look is only half as effective, but twice as potent when he shoots it at Umie.

The so-called runaway and that stupid, cool little smile of hers.

'Monitors are going to start screaming when the Dark Hour ends, otherwise..' the boy with the grey hair bites his lip and sighs heavily, entirely through his nose.

"....yeah," he manages.

He is delicate with her, the spaces between the bones of her fingers kneaded lightly under both of his thumbs in a soothing stroke. It's not long, truthfully, between this touch and that -- it doesn't take Shiryuu any time at all to keep contact with her, now that the magazine is somewhere underneath the bed and forgotten.

She has the whole of his attention when that pensive expression breaks into a watery attempt to smile, for an instant breaking his severe, worried mien. For an instant.

"...I'm not.."

The smile is gone, replaced by a thin, determined line. She can feel it in his hands, the tension that would have led to a squeeze in any other circumstance.

"How'd you even find out where we were," he thinks aloud, a hundred thoughts flickering through his mind, and none of them lining up right. It shows, in the way he picks along his words. "...You shouldn't be bearing a bullet for me, Umie. I'm not ... it's not right."

It's hardly the powerful thing he wants to say, the combination of words that would restore everything to its rightful place. All of those words taste sour on his tongue. He breathes out, short and sharp, pushing the details aside.

The memory of what it felt like to have the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his neck goes with them. It doesn't matter.

"I'll have to kill him, now."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It's a heady, but bittersweet moment to remind Umie that the two of them are terribly, unfortunately, maliciously a 'bond', and what that entails when it's not cute moments where one of them is bothering the other, or invading the other's peaceful, orderly life.

You know, like when Umie went wandering around a Ryouhara safehouse, listening in on conversations and lurking around prison cells, where people there are there for a reason. How long did it take for Kouzou to calm down, after she had left him? And Kouhei... what will he try next, now that Shiryuu survived?

.... How would Kouhei think, when he and they find out about Umie being a distant relative?

It'll only be a matter of time before that little so-called runaway's luck, as badly placed as it is, runs woefully out, leaving moments like these to a past of 'what-ifs'.

Edges of flaked red and pale fingertips peek from between Shiryuu's hands from where he leaned over to check her wounds. "It's fine," she assures. "It was the needles and that fracture. I'd have to try a lot harder to reopen the gunshot wound."

... Speaking of wounds... Shiryuu's confidence begs the question of whether he's actually as healed up as he seems to be, now that she's closed in on him. "... Will your right eye heal up okay, after everything?" she asks, the muscles of her fingers closing against the soothing touch of his thumbs.

She regrets asking it, as the fleeing hare that is his smile dissipates for one reason or another.

That left arm, halfway out of its sling, cautiously moves over to carefully rest a hand against those tense fingers of his, a thumb worrying over each knuckle with lavish care.

.... even when he asks how she found out. "A little bird told me," she replies, innocently. "There's been no breach of security."

Kouhei may have intended for her to die with Shiryuu, but saying his name aloud too easily may give him more trouble than he signed up for, due to this insult to the Shihaisha's pride.

"If I remember correctly, Ruin-san *did* just shoot me because I taunted him." She tilts her head. "I don't exactly call that taking a bullet for you. If anything, you were pretty determined to take one for me once things were ramping up."

Umie wouldn't call that right, either.

'I'll have to kill him, now.'

"That's..." The bed's wheels squeak as she shifts in the bed. "He's dangerous, Shiryuu. If he was there, that shows things have escalated. They wanted you to buckle, or ensure you'd be replaced with someone else."

Sure, it may be like telling fire that the forest is dry and ready to burn, but Umie can't avoid it, or freely encourage him on, the Badb inside her be damned.

So, instead of letting him think on that, she...

"Why is there someone with a Mark at that safehouse?"

Why wasn't that Umie's first question? She should have asked that at the start, she realizes, when Shiryuu brought her back.

Well, that's just one of the many what-ifs that shall add themselves to the pile.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Shiryuu doesn't know everything, despite his best attempts to the contrary. His phone had several messages left on it from Kiria, but none of them were descriptive of anything, and he'd not had the wherewithal to engage overmuch with the problem of being ready for an attack despite everything that's happened conspiring to get in his way.

As a result, he's critically unaware as yet of the discovery at the site, or the rapidly spreading revelations it's spawned about the Ryouhara jizamurai lineage.

'Know as much as possible, focus on one thing,' his instructor once told him.

Right now, the thing he focuses on is right in front of him.

She asks him if his eye is going to heal. The boy pauses.
"...it will, one way or another," he determines. The doctors had determined it looked like he'd been hit in the eye with a baseball bat, or perhaps had suffered some sort of catastrophic sinus infection -- characteristically, Shiryuu had only given 'I fell.' as an excuse, which naturally led to a line of questioning which led them nowhere. Now, he is fairly sure he is more antibiotic than man.

He blinks off the thought, his one good eye looking down, before she gives him a reason for a second look.

Ryouhara may certainly be naive, but he is not so dim so as to take Umie's words at face value. A long, suspicious look is given her, but a more protracted interrogation never comes -- there's much more to address from his bond.

'I don't exactly call that taking a bullet for you --'
"--you shouldn't have been there at all--"
'you were pretty determined to take one for me once things started ramping up --'
'-- I'll have to kill him.'
'That's - he's dangerous, Shiryuu -' "-well, it's too dangerous for you to go about -"

'They wanted you to buckle, or ensure you'd be replaced with someone else.'

Shiryuu begins to bridle immediately at the implication, his eye opening. "Zaaa--" he's about to tell her straight -- about how he'll ensure their teeth are replaced first, about how Ruin will choke on steel before he ever buckles -- but Umie is fast, and her followup cuts through most of his objections.

Shiryuu manages to bite back most of his opinion, looking down at the bed, and where her fingertips peek out from beneath his. He stares at the flaked color for a long time, an idle focus for his attention away from a harsher question that has a much less immediate answer.

"....no matter where you go in the world, you'll find people trying to escape their sins."

He is reluctant to do so, but the boy's touch and weight shifts away from her on the bed, his hands slipping away to brace on his own IV stand as he shifts his weight onto the balls of his feet, stepping away from the bed using the antiquated stand as a makeshift support. Now he looks away; out the window, towards the sky, as if trying to gauge how long the Dark Hour will last.

"...Kouzou is a lesson in the damage the decisions of selfish men can do," the boy states flatly. "We made use of him, an age ago. And then, we thought to try and make use of him again."

Shiryuu's mouth sets firmly.

"That's why what happened, happened. A string of broken men lay in our wake..." And yet, they are shinobi, is an unspoken thought. "I wanted to correct the err... but a man without a purpose is less than nothing."

Even so... Shiryuu folds his arms tightly against himself.
"I wonder how many times this world can make use of a man before nothing is left."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> What you don't know can't hurt you, at least until the morning comes.

For now, there is the two of them and the wounds they share between them, physical and mental, and the bond that ties them like a red string.

It may as well be iron, both in how unbreakable it's become, as well as how heavy it can feel compared to a silk thread.

Two shades of brown meet eyes that lean red, framed as they are by all that green and red around them. This is the first act of their dance, a combat of words and will neither will back away from.

"Me and Joker being there tipped the scales in your favor, which may have saved your life, as well as Kurou's." ... But not the life of the other man-- She tries to blot out that memory, and the image of Mai-chan walking through it, as if she were walking innocently through a puddle riddled with red leaves.

How can it feel so harsh, when she's already seen someone dissolve in front of her?

Maybe that's why her question comes out so readily, like a spring-loaded blade, and little of the payback once it sinks in. One, and done.

'....no matter where you go in the world-'

His touch leaves her with a reluctance she observes, feeling the ghost of his warmth in her fingers with the thumb of her other hand.

The doctor will surely be cross with her tomorrow, but all she can think of is the feel of the tension in Shiryuu's fingers.

"You used the Mark as punishment?" Umie surmises. "What 'use' did he serve, and what 'use' does he serve now?"

To make use of. What happened, happened. He wanted to correct the err, but a man without purpose?

".... Is that what will happen to me, Shiryuu." It's like prodding a barbed needle wedged in her skin, and expecting that it *won't* hurt. Umie's mouth feels dry, her gaze directly focused on the silver-haired man gazing out the window, his head framed by the white roses that were ironically left by another man wanting her hand in marriage.

Didn't that man know that red was a better color for her, when it came to flowers?

"Will you be forced to throw me in a cell for my own protection too?" she whispers. "Is that who we are? Things to be used?"

The Badb in her calls for blood, even while her fingers still want to rejoin with his.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
His hands flex against his arms, absently remembering her skin.

The gesture is long suffered, Shiryuu's hands never quite idle. His arm knit tightly at his waist, the gleam of the sickly moon through the tubule tracing a line under his sleeve, the boy faces away from her. It's a reminder of their ill circumstance, the absence of the symbol at his back.

Their battle is brief, but the moment is long lived, an idea that spreads roots and leaves the shihaisha shifting listlessly in place.

It is the idea that he can't protect everyone.
If he'd let Tenzen stand, perhaps Zakuro would still be alive. Perhaps Kouzou wouldn't be...

"...They say that shinobi are weapons," the bandaged boy says.

"That we live and die at the whims of our lords. That we bravely sacrifice our whole lives to be nothing and no one to anyone. That the highest honor that we could have is to die in the old ways for a future we'll never see. That is what it means to be a shinobi."

"...but..."

...Shiryuu shakes his head. "I don't believe in that."

The thought is hard, harsh. "I think that we're meant to be more. That all the children of this world deserve a chance to realize their own life, and their own bonds with one another, on and on in the cycle, until everyone is in harmony. That is 'synthesis.'"

The Order misunderstands it when he says it, frequently, misunderstands 'Synthesis' to mean the World Without Sin. A lack of understanding is not his problem.

"It's not easy. You're beset on all sides by the conspiracies of evil men. Again and again, they'll return to the idea that people are just weapons. They'll try to kill and to coerce, to hold ransom the idea of your own personhood from you. We're seduced by that empty world too often..."

Shiryuu is not awkward when he says this, and his thinking is barely dogged by the infernal doubt that follows him around. The boy thinks hard on what he says, and what he thinks is simple, at the very end of it:

"I think that's why terrible people like me need to exist. To ensure that you can realize a good life."

She asked if that's how she'll end up, alone and in a cell for her own safety. Shiryuu's mouth sets against the light.

"...I won't allow it," he says, after awhile.
"You. Kurou. The clan. It doesn't matter. I will..." he pauses, for an acid moment. "..I should always be the one to stand between you and the bullet, no matter what form it takes. I'm the strongest...and it's my responsibility."

Shiryuu blinks, his one eye breaking from the light outside, dark brown falling into the shadow.

"...no one else's."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> A young man, absent his symbol, his weapon, and his Persona, along with it.

A few days later from now, Umie and Joker will relate about similar worries. Joker was unable to keep Zakuro, a man they knew likely has killed many, from dying, which was a mark on the principal they and the Phantom Thieves enforce, both on themselves and others around them. For Umie, it was simpler: she felt she could have affected the results with her own abilities, but her kneejerk hesitation to directly fight Ruin, as well as her choice being the 'easier' one of the two she saw in front of her.

One was duty, the other, shame.

For Shiryuu, maybe, it is a fusion of the two, as leader, and as one responsible for sparing Zakuro in exchange for a new path, which still led to his death.

Kouhei said similar things, and to that, Umie had said, and says now:

"That implies the world is filled with extraordinary people, for a Ryouhara to be expendable." She tilts her head, strands of blonde shifting across her forehead as she gives him a lopsided, fond smile. "But beyond that," she continues, "that is why you did what you did for Kurou Ryouhara-kun, isn't it?"

"... And what you saw, that day, with me." What Shiryuu saw in an innocent frog-shaped ice pack: the many, many nights of a girl, by herself. What was freedom and agency was also needless risk and isolation, a loneliness that deepened when her inexperience managed to kill an innocent person, with no way to directly make amends save guilt and paranoia for the karmic judgement that was certain to follow. Umie may later relish in the partial illusion of someone who didn't care, displaying it before Akechi a day from now, but still... in those moments, it's a mask to protect herself.

From the conspiracies of evil men, and the forces they enable.

But not always, as something in Umie refuses to accept Shiryuu's methods completely, despite that softness in her tone, or the way her thumb strokes the palm of the other in the recollection of his own, doing the same.

(Or, *especially*, how undeniably attractive he looks, framed like that. How does he do that while still connected to an IV pole?!)

"And what if I disagree?"

Her lower eyelids rise against the spark in her eyes. "What if I say that you, Shiryuu Ryouhara, are worth what I've gone through? Don't get me wrong, I love a good rescue as much as anyone, but I also am not a princess in need of rescuing."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
'That implies the world is filled with extraordinary people, for a Ryouhara to be expendable.'

"Aa....maybe."

It would be easy to say that everything he'd done was to allow Kurou to live a good life. It would be easy, to say something like that. But is it not naive to think of himself as that type of person...? Someone who could be 'kind' like that.

"I don't think it's that easy, though.."
It _would_ be an easy thing, to let himself off the hook as magnanimous. But it's not kindness to condemn someone with forgiveness, nor to consent to something you could never feel.

The memory of a vast greyscale curtain chases the shinobi's eyes away to the white roses on the sill, a slow blink banishing the thoughts of pretty, empty-headed pets. How long have they been there? ... how long has he been lost in her scent, in her voice set against the light of the wild moon?

She'd said something about it. White roses. Left by someone. He has no clue what they mean. Flowers are not his strong suit.

But even so. The boy with the grey hair moves almost imperceptibly, the sound of his robe's lining the only signifier that he even moved at all. Politely, his stance changes, weight moving from one foot to the other, shifting uncomfortably away from the roses, enough so that his stand lurches with the motion as well, unbalanced before frozen wheels give, creaking to move an inch or two with him.

... he should be the strongest... the most invincible.. right?

Shiryuu swallows, the sound audible in the otherwise dead silence.
He's still staring at the roses. Who -would- give a girl roses, indeed. The context is vastly different now than it was in that hotel room.

"...The world is filled with extraordinary people, though."

The admission is--even in the silence, even in air that would betray a pin drop--almost too quiet to hear, an admission borne somewhere in the back of his throat. The onmitsu closes his eye with a knife-short sigh, turning away from the window, from that infuriatingly impenetrable, impassable curtain, from the roses placed just beyond it.

She's someone who's been alone all of her life, with no one to look after her, so the glance he gives her is distant and lidded by the time she challenges his thinking. He watches her lips move. But...

"...you can disagree, if you like."

It is times like these that the onmitsu is the most thoughtful, taking his IV stand by the staff and pulling its against his shoulder with a visible grimace when the added weight hits his spine. Truthfully, there's no reason to -- there's no one here who would even hear the squealing. But...

The devil _is_ in the details.

"... I'm going to go see if I can find you some things, in the next wing over, before the regime reasserts itself. ... if that's okay."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> If the flowers had been left there by someone with a name, rather than some spirit unworthy of mention, Umie refuses to give it any notice beyond what she as already.

After all, Syuusei Honjou is a man of pride, setting the template for the sort of man Umie assumed Ruin was, by extension. But where Syuusei would have likely sputtered and been rendered ineffectual in that face-to-face context, Ruin had so much more in wealth of his rage and violence to spend.

It was a lesson Umie almost didn't walk away from.

When Shiryuu finally seems to notice the roses there and backs away, Umie makes a soft 'tsk, tsk' under her breath.

She considers, her eyes tracing his awkward pass from foot to foot. "You think Ryouhara-kun might appreciate these? It's not the roses' fault they were chosen poorly. ... I think he'd appreciate a visit from you as well, assuming he's still here."

Kurou'd probably feel better curled up in his blanket in their apartment, rather than in a hospital.

Shiryuu, meanwhile, is still looking at those roses. Does he suspect she has feelings for someone else?

Umie's gaze grows gentle.

Silly, silly Shiryuu. You can't escape now.

"I prefer the ones you gave me, for the record-- the red petals looked beautiful falling against your hair." A situation that only happened because they made things more and more complicated for each other, as such things went with the two of them.

The world is filled with extraordinary people, indeed, but the person she sees, this mess of a person, with his messy hair, bandaged face, and distracted mein...

That is the person she loves.

So much so that she'll fight him, as they once agreed. "I don't need your permission," she says, even if the veiled, glinted look in her eyes and the pursed part of her lips speak another, much more affectionate set of terms.

And that is all she speaks of as he ponders there, attempting to wheel along that obstinate IV pole.

'... if that's okay.'

"... I think I can allow that," she says, with a sharp little smile. "Maybe some magazines. Though I imagine I won't get to hear you read to me the next Dark Hour, unless they manage to keep you another day. Your voice is very soothing, you know that?"

There much more she wants to say, so many things that just don't feel right to say in the moment, or don't seem to fit in any of the sounds she could make. She looks at him, framed as he is in that weak, unearthly light, shadow and white, frail, but strong as steel, his actions calculated. His hair, silver, picking up the surroundings like a ghost, his lips, hard in thought, though in recent memory she would know how soft they felt against hers. Even in his 'robes', he attempts to define himself.

She dips her head instead, saying some things that feel like inadequate against everything she feels, both good and bad.

"... Thank you, Shiryuu. For being my bond, and... letting me be yours."

These are words she'd never thought she'd ever say, with meanings that only make sense in the context Shiryuu had set, that night.

She blames this impossible hour for everything she's feeling.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
In times like these, it's easy to remove himself from the equation. To think of the way things would be if he had never seized control of his fate, never became ...

... who he is now.

"A hundred mistakes," the boy thinks to himself, arms folded in front of those roses. If he'd not been there to make them, maybe someone else would. The words of only a few moments before taste sour the longer he thinks on them. Those powerful, confident words sit on the other side of that static veil, spoken by someone who was killed and left for dead. They are the right things to say, he thinks.

But the longer he looks, the more he thinks someone else said them.

Someone who would have known better than to let precious people die, or end up in such a miserable state.

'It's not the roses' fault they were chosen poorly.'

"Mm?" Shiryuu asks politely, broken of the thought and trying to focus on what was being said. Please be present, Ryouhara... things are bad enough.

"...they're .. it'd .. be nice," he decides.
The implication that he should be the one to bring them to Kurou sails right over his head, replaced by a thought to check on him.

He blinks twice as Umie tells him about the red roses, as the actual meaning of her words starts to filter through his senses, moreso than the sound and shape of her voice against his ear, moreo than even the way the miserable job he did with her hair is complimented by her smile, and the way she resolves to fight him.

Shiryuu's eye unfocuses, trying to look at the strand of silver hair in the middle of his face, a strangely long time after she brings up his hair. He makes a face, suddenly self conscious enough to blow the errant strand out of the way with a puff of air.

"...ahem," Shiryuu clears his throat for what must be the fourth or fifth time in the past few minutes. It's harsher than usual, as if quietly attempting to disprove anything Umie says about his voice. "I..."

Nothing really seems to fit the shape of what he'd like to say. For an acid moment, Shiryuu murmurs something underneath his breath. 'get it together. if nothing else...'

'...thank you.'

Shiryuu looks back up to her, meeting Umie's eyes, two to one, for one glancing half second. He checks on her vitals on the monitor, focusing on the blank, dead screen for a few seconds too long. He looks at her again; and tries to smile. This time he manages to for a whole three seconds. His grip tightens on his IV stand as something inside of him aches and anxious.

This girl...

He doesn't want to leave.

"....I'm not going anywhere," Shiryuu finally replies after an awkward moment, quiet and resolute and faraway and too close at once. His hand twitches, soothing nothing in him at all.

"...I think I ...need to be here, with you."
He tries to smile one more time for Akabane before the boy turns, padding off silently with the stand over his shoulder to find her better magazines.
</poem>

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-07-14: A Magazine for Two

2026-07-22T03:50:51Z

Tanyuu: Created page with "*'''Log: A Magazine for Two''' *'''Cast:''' Shiryuu Ryouhara, Umie Akabane *'''Where:''' Narumi Memorial Hospital, Narumi Ward, Sumaru City *'''OOC Date:''' July 14, 2026 *'''IC Date:''' December 09, 2012 *'''Summary''': ''Recovering after the events of the Mizunagi's disappearance, Umie isn't sure what's worse: the waiting for something to go wrong, or the boredom. Thankfully, she's not the only one there who's in the same boat, nor the only one anxious to see i..."

*'''Log: A Magazine for Two'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Shiryuu Ryouhara]], [[Umie Akabane]]
*'''Where:''' Narumi Memorial Hospital, Narumi Ward, Sumaru City
*'''OOC Date:''' July 14, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 09, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''Recovering after the events of the Mizunagi's disappearance, Umie isn't sure what's worse: the waiting for something to go wrong, or the boredom. Thankfully, she's not the only one there who's in the same boat, nor the only one anxious to see if someone she cares about is okay.''

----

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
He spent some time touring the impact site.

Was it the same ship? It's impossible to tell. As far as he could surmise, it didn't seem like it was, or at the very least the ship was active on an axis he couldn't quite detect. The places were different, and what little he could see past the cordoned zone, his weapon did not appear to beon the main deck anymore. Damn.

It puts him in a bit of a predicament.

The boy sighs in annoyance, striding out of the supply room, cinching a spare length of what-used-to-be-linens around his middle in a tumbled knot, securing the hospital byoui more snugly around his waist until it at least resembled something like a keikogi, though the hem on the loose, gauzy trousers was much, much shorter than he would have preferred, and so his calves are wrapped in linen as well to the ankles, as well as the arches of his heels.

The nurse will be most displeased with him when the Dark Hour ends, he thinks, dragging his intravenous stand with him with a little squeal. "It's fine," Shiryuu reasons to no one in particular.

His nurse is an absolute tyrant, and he'll have no more of her meddling. She already took both of his remaining knives and probably reported them to the authorities, which has left him to palm and hide several scalpels through his hospital room, which she then also confiscated. Now Shiryuu is resorted to ransacking the supply room for bone saws and lancets, like a common criminal.

He would call and send for another sword, but the board of education only recognizes Bankasoujin as a legal performance art prop, and his paperwork doesn't cover ... most of what else he could send for.

It's an unconscionable situation, especially considering their predicament concerning Ruin.

Shiryuu looks out the window, at the sickly moon casting the only light. His intravenous stand could be used as a weapon, he supposes. It's really the only reason he's staying here -- they've already wrapped his head in a disgusting amount of gauze and wrap, his left eye completely sealed shut at this point. He wouldn't stick around for further abuse by the abominable Minako, but...

...she did say something about Akabane and Kurou having rooms the next floor down.

The boy with the spray of grey hair looks long-sufferingly at the elevator. Then his gaze tilts slightly, grimly, to the goddamn stairwell next to it. He sighs and starts padding, bare-footed, to the latter. His stand squeaks slightly, audibly as he drags it after him.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Is the mask truly that necessary? Outside of that congnitive space, it was just a curiosity, earning Umie a raised eyebrow from the staff, but nothing else. (After all, this is hardly the strangest thing they've seen that night.) It was taken off immediately, along with her clothing, as soon as treatment began.

Kurou was correct in terms of triage, however: blood loss, a bullet wound, a fracticed clavicle, and a number of other injuries have left Umie in a terrible state.

.... That state being 'having to deal with having her left arm in a sling', with the other having to serve as her only means of manipulating the TV remote. Alas, that puts her in a bit of a predictament, as she can either let the Mark remain hidden underneath that bit of her sheet, or she can furiously flick through channels like a roaming tiger, restlessly searching for nourishment from the flatscreen TV.

She can't even do origami, or string games. Not to mention, she'd be easy prey for Ruin once the Dark Hour hits.

However, by the time the Dark Hour hits, Umie has become convinced that having Ruin monologue her would be so much better than daytime TV, variety shows, and drama reruns she's only half interested in.

For better or worse, she manages to fall into sleep, leaving her passage into the Dark Hour unremarkable.

Unfortunately, she wakes up soon afterwards out of force of habit, leaving her staring at the green tinted ceiling, thinking about the starless night in the enclosed garden.

.... It is there for her, every night; that still world.

....

"Well, if you're there, you might as well come out and get it over with," she grumpily mumbles. "Spend one day confined to a bed, stuck with daytime TV. You'd be begging for death too, I imagine..."

A bouquet of flowers lies on the table, with a 'Get Well' card.

"... I wouldn't mind a magazine or two, if you're feeling merciful." She frowns. "Or maybe not that. You seem like the sort of guy who'd pick a children's magazine or worse, something adult that'd made the nurse staff wonder what sort of deviant they have in their midst..."

Her eyelids lower. "... Ah, so... you're not there at all, are you? Ruin-san."

Her eyelids fall closed, finally. "So it's just me, talking to myself... well, I'm used to that."

*squeak, squeak*

Umie shoots wide awake in an instant at the approaching sound as Badb finally manifests into the air over her, a comforting blanket against the monsters of the night.

It wouldn't help against Ruin, but it may give her a sense of someone, or something, coming nearby.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Ugh. Discomforts all around.

The problem was less that Shiryuu was unfit to navigate a single flight of stairs -- inconceivable -- and it was more that the anchor he's been ingraciously forced to carry with him is apparently the worst one amongst all of the IV stands in the entire hospital that Oniko could have selected for his convalescence.

He had tried to affirm to her that he didn't need anything other than a bandage and he'd be happy to leave. Obviously not. Blood loss! Bruised ribs. Deep tissue trauma, suspected lacrimal hemorrhage, hyphema. Ugh. The worst was severe dehydration. The malevolent puma must have tacked the last part on purely to embarrass him. He just got out of the flooded compartments of a sunken ship. He's swallowed more water in the last twenty four hours than he's had for the entire month previous, it's impossible.

And yet here he is, an unwilling captive to some diagnostic tests he was sure was just a pretense to get his shirt off, dragging the world's most cumbersome bag of saline down a set of stairs that feel exactly one inch too small per step for the casters, which the boy is additionally convinced were constructed in the late Bakumatsu period, definitely predating the Restoration.

At least Shiryuu was able to throw the coquettishly loose grip socks out the window shortly after being made to put them on. It feels good to rebel against your oppressors.

To his dismay, Shiryuu had to walk to the other side of the floor to find a charge nurse's patient registry book in the appropriate wing, which he promptly commandeers to locate Akabane's room. Based on what he could find out, he strongly suspects Kurou may have been taken for additional testing. The leeches. "Better not be probing him," Shiryuu mutters to himself. Blink.

"...better not probe me either."

Second blink. "...better not be ..."
No, she'd definitely have something to say about that.

Shiryuu becomes annoyed and makes a discomfited face in record time. "N..." why is he even talking. "_Where is she_" the boy grumbles, trying to make sense of the apparently equally diabolical charge nurse's handwriting.

Oh, it's probably the one with chatter coming from it.
And now, a Persona hanging over it.
Shiryuu frowns.

"Iya, iya..." Squeak, squeak. Squeeeak. Squeeeak.

"...ready to tear the place down over a mouse or two," Ryouhara comments, as he labors his way through the door.

"You're a rambunctious one, Akabane."

Despite his predicament, Shiryuu at least passingly manages to put the hospital robe to task as somewhat reasonable clothing with a few wraps of pilfered linen, though the soft pale green and dark green fabrics of the byoui are roughly four inches shorter in every dimension than he'd like them. His jade earrings match his choker, which is apparently something he's worn underneath his turtleneck the whole time, and the soft cordage is still looped around his right wrist, which is now regrettably more exposed as the hand he holds himself up with by the IV stand. Even if the byoui upper has slightly generous sleeves, they still hang down to his forearm when tilted. Luckily, the golding bone saw is tucked in the sash at his back.

".... but what's this about children's books and adult magazines? What are you even *up* to.."

Asking Ruin for dirty magazines, eh? Shiryuu makes sure to cast doubt over the entire matter. And the flowers, for good measure.

The only thing he got in his room was a hard time.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> As Umie feels and recognizes Shiryuu's nearing resonance through Badb's sight, the tension in her body is allowed to deplete, letting out that clenched breath she was holding for far too long.

Instead, it's matched with a sort of giddiness, knowing he was visiting, coming to see her.

Her prince, she mentally quips. But this is not the balcony scene of Romero and Juliet, who were not prince and princess in the fairy tale sense, nor were they known for having a happy ending.

'Iya, iya...' *squeak, squeak*

The Badb dissolves into dark grey feathers and fog over Umie's bed, leaving Umie there, her head turned towards Shiryuu as he enters, squeaking IV pole and all.

"They let you keep those, huh..." Umie remarks, her eyes looking over the jade earrings, choker, and bracelet. "They had to take my earrings out."

It allowed him to carry some of that dignity over, despite the IV drip pole and hospital gown(s). She tries not to look too long, as she considers that, even if her eye is tempted to stay looking, just a little longer.

Even like this... he is still Shiryuu. She can't help but smile, seeing him inching over to her. Her hair is spread out in limp clumps around her, dark brown weaving in at the roots at the top of her head; there's not even a fine ponytail to mark the occasion, much less her usual buns. At least it's clean, having been washed earlier when nurses her prepping her for examination.

"I figured, if Ruin was waiting in the shadows," Umie surmises, "he could at least be helpful. But even a magazine isn't that good when your hands are occupied." One is in that sling: not because it's broken, but because of the fractured clavicle that arm is connected to. Not a serious injury by itself; she could have easily dealt with this at home. The other wrist, while able to move around if she's careful, is still bandaged up, due to the damage that wrist recieved when Ruin slammed into it.

"... At least we're both a mess. " Umie gestures with her chin. "Go on, have a seat."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Prince. Shiryuu has no concept of the idea, and doesn't feel anything like it. 'They let you keep those, huh...'

"They didn't," Shiryuu grouses in annoyance, stalking down the hall. "I'm still looking for my shoes." Yes, the implication is that the only reason Shiryuu hasn't come sooner is because he was busy in all out war with the nursing staff, locked in a perpetual cycle of theft and confiscation. Luckily, they weren't very concerned about ear infections, so the earrings seemed to be a low risk keep.

It doesn't satiate him at all -- he's still being held in a fascist regime.

It's likely that ardent lack of satisfaction that draws Shiryuu to Akabane; like a moth to a particularly bright flame. The boy stalks across the cool tile floor on the balls of his bare feet, barely supported by the linen wrapping his arches. It takes him more than a moment -- as he appears to fight with the IV stand, the source of all of his current annoyance, looping the line back around the pole so it doesn't get caught in its penchant to twist, as he drags it over.

It's actually quite clear that his staff gave him a terrible IV stand so he could be heard trying to sneak around.

"Mmm." He stops off at the table nearby, gathering a copy of a home magazine on his way, possibly also salvaged from the same castle that the IV stand's caster wheel came from in 1864. "I'm only a mess because my clothes are being held hostage by unfeeling tyrants," Shiryuu points out annoyedly, with a flat expression. Following the direction of her glance, the boy elects instead to lean at the edge of her bed, doing his absolute best to keep his IV in while he balances the magazine on a propped leg, awkwardly opening it until it drapes over his thigh. He at first looks at it with fierce determination.

Then he realizes Umie is watching him.

"...iito...ahem." Suddenly exceedingly self-conscious, Shiryuu flips a page with the crisp studied dexterity of a practiced academic. Then he tries to smile charmingly. Fails. Manages something kind of like it. Realizes he's doing that. Then realizes he's staring at her hair. Suddenly Shiryuu is very grim and staring into the magazine with redoubled resolve.

"Don't worry about that man," Shiryuu reasons, coldly. "If he decided to try again, he would have already, and would have had to face me directly." Shiryuu finds a page.

"... I'll find your earrings," he says, without looking up.

"What is a ... 'honey fermented charoset?'" Shiryuu wonders, looking at the page with a big two page spread of what looks like apple cinnamon oatmeal without the oats. Just ... apple cinnamon meal. "'This is a great recipe for the cold winter times,'" he reads to her. "'If your family is anything like mine, you can enjoy this warm richly spiced meal right by the fireside...'" ...he frowns. "This text is complete fluff. What is it, where is -- oh. I guess it's apples. Mmm. I guess I'll continue, this would be fine for you. Is -- mm. It's definitely not an _adult_ magazine, but if there's more apples, it should be okay."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> 'They didn't.' Umie blinks, her head lifting slightly off the pillow to look towards his feet, as if she needed confirmation they were bare.

Then, she cackles. "I should've known... the shihaisha, forced to wear something he didn't want to wear, *and* forced to give up his jewelry? Those nurses were born a hundred years too early~"

As her head hits back against the pillow with a 'poff', Umie watches Shiryuu there with an amused gaze and matching grin, filtered through lowering eyelashes.

"And they gave you a squeaky IV pole on top of it... truly, you are tormented."

She's beaming at him. If that smile's just a little too sharp or a little too crooked, Shiryuu will have to forgive her; she's just that much more happy to see him here. And she's happy to watch him, in his best element: a little surly, a little awkward, dignified like an exotic breed of cat that has to waggle one of its paws due to stepping in a puddle.

It is like catnip to Umie, in every way, to watch him try to settle on the edge of her hospital bed with the grace befitting the shirogarasu (or what Umie imagines is customary).

With a magazine in hand, no less, which surprises Umie. There was one there, but it was a dusty.... home... magazine...

nevermind let the boy cook

With every smile, this Dark Hour is looking to be better and better.

She realizes he's looking at her hair. "Yeah," Umie looks upwards. "Could use some conditioner, but that's always the case. Locks this pale don't get that way without some sacrifice." He... *does* know she's not a natural blonde, right

well that's okay, either way

Shiryuu assures her that the bad bad assassin man won't come after her, because he would have already (and he'd have to face Shiryuu, which is an important modifier to that first statement).

He'll find her earrings. "They're with my stuff. It's fine." She shakes her head. "Just spend some time with me. I'd rather have that."

... especially because the silver-haired boy is serving some mighty good food, yessss "I don't know," Umie admits, grinning. "Read on and see."

Ah, he judges this suitable, because it has apples in it. "Nothing too spicy; my health is very delicate right now," she teases. "You might have to censor some parts, like where they talk about peeling the apples... or add spices like cinnamon..."

oh that smile is WAY TOO SHARP RIGHT NOW
</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Shiryuu is not impressed by word one of the unbunned's pleasures at his plight. "Iih," the one-eyed boy objects at first, more sound than word around an annoyed glare into the history of charoset. "You don't have to sound so excited about it," he morosely objects after a minute, making an excellent show of flipping the page with the book precariously balanced still. He's pretending to see how long the article is.

Oh, it's very long, Ryouhara.

"The security here is poor," he explains, "so they're trying to use substandard equipment to keep me from enacting my will."

The boy looks ahead, this time at the dark television. "They won't win over me that easily. That charge nurse's days on unit 4E are done." His gaze burns with martial determination.

Thus invited, Shiryuu is only put off of his temporary rivalry by Umie's attention, joining her in looking up at her hair. "Ii--" He stares some more. One would guess that Shiryuu doesn't actually know she's not a natural blonde, from the way his voice drifts off from feudal-era commitment. Is he not familiar with the concept of hair dye?

No, that's silly. Remember that Shiryuu's subordinates are Kiria and Kurou. A disturbing number of Ryouhara clan members dye their hair, so it would make no sense for him to be unfamiliar with the idea. It's more that...

'Just spend some time with me.... read on.'

"Um." She might as well had been talking to a cloud for all Shiryuu was listening. "... right."

He flips the page back, trying to find out where he last left off. "Ah, let's see. Oh. Here. 'Charoset is a type of ambrosia,'" he reads, "'typically enjoyed by Jews as a symbol during Passover.' Hm. I guess it's something you would give a powerful Yudayajin to gain their favor and talent..." He studies further. "'The lovely firm texture of this affair can be understood to represent the mortar associated with slavery in the time of Moses. It's a richly fermented spread,' -- oh, like natto? Hmm.. -- 'of dates, figs, and apricots, which pair in a mesmerizingly spiced mix with honey, sweet crisp apples, cloves and cardamom to create the unforgettable aroma. It is traditionally enjoyed with diced nuts and a piece of --' mattozah? Mm?"

Though his reading is immaculate, that word does strain his pronunciation a bit, because he's too stubborn not to recognize when a word is spelled out in katakana for a reason. It gets worse from there. "...matzah," he decides. "'It is traditionally enjoyed with diced nuts and a piece of -' matzah, '- along with bitters like fermented horseradi--' --- iie? wait, what? Horseradish and apples?? What sort of devil food is this??"

Incredulous, Shiryuu looks to Umie -- once, twice!! -- for support, as if she were involved in this somehow and could put a stop to it. Unsurprisingly, the level of support he receives is 'none.'

She's talking about getting spicy with the apples! Shiryuu makes a flat face at her, holding the book half closed. "Th, this isn't that type of book, you succubus!!" Upended for the moment from his distress about sweet apples and horseradish, the boy finally takes matters into his own hands. "You're not helping!!" he complains, "you need to take care of your health."

As if to prove his point (or exercise his spite), Shiryuu shoots out, sliding his hand -all- the way into the rambunctious Umie's hair while it's loose, fingertips feathering over her brow before he checks her hair all the way to the back, scritching through her roots with a firm, investigative hand. "Hrrn," the ninja mulls, teasing at her scalp.

"All things considered, your hair is fine," the boy decides. "Tangled, but soft enough." Strands rolled experimentally between a thumb and forefinger, before surfacing to smooth the whole mess back behind her ears so it doesn't get all over the place on her pillow.

No, that takes longer than expected, as the boy thumbs a strand across her temple and along her ear.

"If you get yourself too kicked up into a devillish lather," Shiryuu tells her, his attention span fully occupied now, "your healing won't go as well, and I'll send you back to Rikuto...right?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "They underestimated you." Umie's right hands shifts in reaction to that, responding to her wish to raise her hand up and sell her (not actual) shock of Shiryuu's bravado over his newest rival. "My nurses have been pretty decent, considering," she continues, her tone shifting to a more casual mein. "It can be a crapshoot once they see my Mark, but this time, I could skip some awkward looks since my wrist had to be bandaged this time around. Lucky me, I guess~"

Shiryuu may as well not be listening, judging by how he's looking at her fried, soft locks. "Ehh... keep staring like that and you'll make a girl self-conscious," she lightly quips. "Or are you so taken in by my delicate innocent beauty that you'll give me white roses as well, in hopes the wan candle of my life isn't snuffed out by the cruelty of life...?"

She does wear white, but white roses...
.... They do not suit her, despite that being the color of the bouquet by the window.

She stays appropriately quiet for Shiryuu's story time, trying her best to keep from smiling as the shihaisha stumbles over concepts beyond his understanding. "Maybe it's the combination of sweet and sour." That's all the help Shiryuu is getting, unfortunately.

And the help she gives beyond that doesn't fare much better, as she leans further into the identity of the wan sickly princess. (Tomorrow, she will regret this, when Akechi reveals the rumors that have fermented on the Dark Side boards like jarred horseradish (themely!).)

But today, her punishment is in Shiryuu slipping his fingers through her locks, drawing the grinning goblin to a complete stop as he teases his hand in. He might notice how her cheeks have gone apple red (also themely!), though how she bows her head forward (helpfully?!) it may be hard to make out.

"A-ah..." She is mercifully quiet, defeated with a masterful stroke of the shirogarasu's hand.

He'd of course see where the darker roots are beginning to come in, an advancing front of nature reasserting her true colors that will have no end.

"... ii...." The blonde attempts to stammer out, to Shiryuu's assessment. Let's right that again... "I-it's not the softness, it's the... uh... thinness."

He takes his time with those strands, thumbing it across her temple and along her ear. Her eyes are down, cheeks red. ".... I didn't mind Rikuto-san that much," she says, softly, self-conscious only how much she enjoys his touch, despite all the times (and examples) she's had to get used to it, and has even pursued it. Despite all of that, he always manages to find those ways to draw her to a quiet, red-faced girl all over again. "He was gruff, but he has to deal with an entire clan full of shinobi, right...? Anyone'd be grumpy from that..."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
The course of the moment changes rapidly over the tumble of just a few seconds. The first, Shiryuu is characteristically aggressive, spurred like a horse by her rambunctious nature to lean across her bed and accost the self-described 'delicate innocent beauty' with a lightning blitz. Likely, in that moment, he's handled bloodthirsty Shadows slower than he does Akabane.

But then, as things tend to with them, Shiryuu is compelled to be kinder.

Losing all sense of the impropriety of the moment while in her scent, the grey-haired boy's IV stand squeaks pensively as if in caution as he leans closer, balancing the suddenly forgotten magazine across his propped knee in the silence.

She stammers a failed reply at him. He's not paying attention.

He is far more delicate with her hair than his, the wandering graze of thumb and forefinger to parcel out little wayward strands across her brow, to soothe a recently-embattled scalp by coaxing her hair in order. Shiryuu's sole unwrapped eye is not actually meeting hers, so he isn't at all aware of the flush in her cheeks, or the unease in her voice, fervently examining Akabane's hair.

He seems only distantly aware that she's saying something's wrong with it. It does not inspire him to take her at her word.

The boy makes a soft, unamused sound, a low trickle of bassline vibrant noise born somewhere deep in his chest well before it ever slips past his lips. It's completely unconscionable that the nurses have left her in this state. "...don't they know you like to have your hair up," the boy murmurs quietly, more judgmental and to himself than Umie.

Folding the magazine open neatly to keep the page and setting it to the side to free a hand, the onmitsu pats his makeshift sash in annoyance, as if failing to predict this exact moment and not stealing a comb was an oversight he could curse himself for. Finally producing a thin butterfly needle pack from his sash, the boy breaks it open with his teeth, popping the tubule off of the back end of the needle and spitting it off to the side to parts unknown.

Keeping the needle in its sterile sleeve, Shiryuu grows a touch more purposeful with her. He uses both the little soft nip of the plastic wing and the rounded end of the sheath to slowly, systematically draw her hair into plaits, running his fingertips through. "...hold still," he thinks aloud at her, taking her jawline just under hand to hold her in just the right position.

For awhile, he doesn't even notice the darkened roots coming in, the featherlight of her hair with his short, purposeful movements. It's really only when it catches in the weird moonlight from the window as it shifts, bands of sickly light crawling across the bed with the passage of the clouds.

A thumbtip muses at the ink-dark strands sorted around the plastic green wing, where the color changes to blonde. In a roundabout way, one could think that things always go back to the way they're supposed to be, in time. Shiryuu doesn't care, not in the aesthetic way, but ...

The boy's expression wanes with the fade of his determined mien, a half-lidded eye downcast, his gaze breaking across the bed to the nightstand, to the exit, checking as if he'd heard a noise, and staying there.

Is ... the natural order of things really so hard to chase away?

"... it's just ... it was just tangled up, that's all," Shiryuu replies without looking, as an afterthought, after a whole forever, enough so to lay entirely out of context to the point of what she said. It sticks out like a sore thumb, and Shiryuu's eager to move on.

A tiny sniff of the air, and the boy sets back to his work. Lifting his wrists, he carefully reaches deeply, behind her as he turns her hair between his hands into a loose tail. The weight of the bed shifts towards him as he leans in, closely enough that she can feel the warmth of his breath distantly laced along her shoulder. He's using touch to navigate the nape of Akabane's neck, to gather up loose strands in the hook of the wing.

He doesn't do it as tightly as she does. She'll notice his hesitation to hurt her, when he pulls her hair into a low, messy bun at the back of her head, folding and tying her hair around itself for the last moment, only just snug enough that it won't itch and not a scintilla more.

It's hard for him not to frame her jawline as he pulls away from her. He only then becomes aware of exactly how warm her cheeks are.

"...ah..." Shiryuu finds his balance a little awkwardly as he starts to lean back, sighing. "I'm not very good with hair," he explains, truthfully. "So ... it probably won't last very long," the boy guesses, a note of something lost in his voice.

"I'll have to break out of my unit to come and fix it tomorrow, probably. But.."

"....just don't do silly things," he changes the subject. Hopefully she doesn't not-mind Rikuto that much, at least. Or really. He pulls the magazine back into his lap, sighing slowly at the recipe blazoned across his thigh now. It's taken on a more diabolical bent, now that Shiryuu knows people eat it with horseradish. It feels better to look at something. To look at her, maybe, and then remind himself of what he was doing a moment or two before.

".... if you're good," Shiryuu remarks coolly, imperiously, "we can make this and take it to Rikuto together."

It feels like the right thing to say.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> There are people Umie is this way with: unique people, who have dodged Umie's need to either push or impress them: charm, or harm, in other words. There are the people she wants to impress: the Jokers, the Akechis (how the heck did those two end up in the same example so close together), the Katsuyas, many, many others. There are the ones Umie tries to push away, despite how they reach out to her: the Bride and her Groom.

But where does that put people like Kurou, or those like Yoko? Or people like Tamaki?

"Ah, my delicate head~!" And where does Shiryuu sit, firmly pushed away at first, then, when his touch turned gentle, when it traced the outline of her Mark as asked her if it *hurt*...

They were still harsh on each other, even then, as the sides were drawn, and the two tried to find some conclusion to something that shouldm't be.

Then, just like now, they were compelled to be kinder, and the teasing narrows to blushes and a need to touch back. The fingers of her right hand jerk, even if she knows she shouldn't move them. She can, just like she could move her left arm, but it would be like moving a sprained ankle, or a strained muscle that is still very tender.

He's close. Even through the smell of the hospital, cleaning materials, and disinfectant, there's still the scent of rain and citrus coming from him. (And with her, the smell of night air and low-hanging mist.)

His fingers are gentle, his voice deep in his chest.

She could have lost this, so easily. If she hadn't acted at all, he would have been...

Would she have known? Would Ruin have known the way to taunt him, as he died?

The terrible thought isn't allowed to bloom, remaining in its hard bud as Umie tilts her head at the package of thin butterfly needles. "Ah?" An eyebrow raises as he opens the package with his teeth, but she says no more, as he tells her to hold still.

Her heartbeat quickens as his intent is clarified by action, his manner laid in his meticulous attention to each detail. "... I haven't had a chance to... retouch my roots." Her words are incidental, an unneeded apology as Shiryuu.

That isn't the reason why Shiryuu is browsing a thumbtip there. Only her eyes move as Shiryuu moves his attention towards the exit.

If a shadow or demons is there... she will surely decimate it for daring to come here.

Let her have this.
Hasn't she behaved?
Hasn't she been good?
Let her have this peace.

His attention returns, to that tangled mess, bringing it into order. The feel of his breath on her shoulder sends a shiver down her spine; he may feel it, depending on where his fingers lay against skin and hair.

He's not very good with hair, he says. So.. it probably won't last very long, he says.

'Just don't do silly things.'
'.... if you're good, we can make this and take it to Rikuto together.'

"What sorts of silly things," she whispers, lifting her IV-fed right arm to politely hook a finger into his hospital gown, trying to lead him back, close to her, and her lips, as she raises to try to close that distance.

"Ones like this?" She leans in, ignoring the sting of shifting needles, as she brings her lips against Shiryuu's own.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Infuriating. Shiryuu will have none of her protest -- the nurses have clearly been devoting too much time to keeping him contained and not enough time looking after their other, more important patients. The only reason Shiryuu is even allowing himself to be poked and prodded at by sublunar tyrants is to make sure Akabane gets quality care while still remaining in his zone of absolute security.

And now look, she's being left in a terrible state...

(...but then, is this all not his responsibility, anyway?)

The moment is harshly, sharply unrequited. It would be naive to think that some part of him isn't hyperaware of her, his blood fluttering in tender veins as his skin warms in her proximity, the fine tick of his wrists betraying both his movements and his heartbeat as he gathers up her locks along the nape of her neck. It'd be naive to think that the utilitarianism of their proximity, the reality of those stolen touches to remind himself that she's still alive didn't bear an entirely different subtext.

But this close the subtext didn't really matter, and the boy traipses on with her, that fleet of small, bold together and accord.

It doesn't chase away the sharp nock of a thought in him; the thing that causes his expression to change, to tighten when seeing her like this, the thought that brought them there.

The boy with the grey hair leans back away from her, lingering only for as long as a thief might brave, returning to the page and its demon fermentation as he might to normalcy, a soft, awkward sound from his throat as he clears it. He can compose himself, openly pretending to flip the page as if he'd literally cared at all what was on the other side. "Ahem..now where was I," he thinks, rationally structuring the situation.

"...I mean," he remarks quietly, "that y-- ...hey, what're you, you're going to..."

Intravenous lines cross, the plastic lines sagging against one another as she politely pulls the two of them back together.

The muted squeak of an unoiled caster sounds like a gunshot in the Dark, a moment to censor the soft breath and the sotto voce sound of a small, sweet kiss. Instinctively, the boy's singular eye shutters as he tilts into her demand, the scent of morning mist at firstlight threading into his senses.

"...ah? ... mm.."

She'll feel him there, hands bunching up tightly in her gown, in her blankets. His grip on her has been far more direct in the past, and the spiral bunch of fabric is tells at exactly how much the boy feels. His first kiss is gentle, fitful, a single breath spared between them. The second -- deeper, a longer, darker course. His eye shut far more tightly in that moment.

Third... fourth... the edges blur, as he leans in closer, as the magazine drops with a papery flutter to the tile beneath his feet.

"Nn.."

Hands slowly climb her blankets, her clothes, settling at her mantle. The heat of his kiss brightens, sharpens. Another second, another moment, his arms would be around her, satiating days of --

*paf*

Ryouhara breaks off the kiss. In a moment he's breathing slowly, a stringline of wild hair down his eyes as he firmly pushes them apart -- him in some form of upright, and her back into her pillow, pinning her there gently.

"....we're going to pull out your line," Shiryuu manages, breathlessly. "You... just like that," he tries to say exactly how and why doing all as they please is bad, especially now. His first try is not at all intelligible.

".... couldn't handle it if you got hurt,"

It's an admission that carries more weight to him than the moment, but his hands keep her at bay for anything more. No, even in the way he touches her, even in the way his thumbs graze past the line of her own gown and along her collarbone, bare skin stroked fondly.

He still hasn't fully caught up with his breathing.
"just... you need to get better, okay?"
She needs to be as far away from that bullet as possible, he says without saying, hands on her shoulders still and loathe to lift them. She can feel the way he thinks of lifting from her, to put any kind of space between them for safety.

He never does.

It'd be naive to think that this too, wasn't born of desperate need.
But sometimes, Shiryuu can be naive.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> They had watched each other nearly die, and came to each other's aid many times.

Just this moment of closeness feels like a miracle, a rebellion against the established narrative, like someone forgot to write in the part where both of them were tragically torn apart. Everyone loves a tragic love story, right? It adds that salt to the sweetness, makes it feel like something that could happen, because life is never fair.

Love stories never include the awkward moments, where one of them uses the other as a bid to get some complementary choco, or the other insists on throwing out a fan because they had gotten better ones, with little panda faces on them.

Or how a perfectly good bath was allowed to go lukewarm because its occupant was too busy making out on the flooring of the kitchenette. The injuries, the awkward posturing, the inability to be direct with your feelings, until one side is worn down.

Maybe they do, nowadays? Because those are the best moments, Umie finds. The mighty shihaisha is flawed, young, and unfortunately, very, very awkward, and she loves it all.

The blood that rises to his skin beats brightly against hers, still diminished from blood loss, but quickly rising back to health with every moment she has Badb at her side, and outside of that, medical care and youth, thin blood and metal heart valves be damned.

'Ahem.. now where was I,' he begins, drawing away from her.

Nope, Umie is not having any of it. Screw that magazine, it didn't nearly die on her, no matter what the 'Letters to the Editor' section may say. This is the poor, poor person who must deal with the fullest amount of what Umie is like at her worst, no manners, no inclination to impress or push him away, just her, Umie Akabane.

God help this poor, poor shinobi, as his willingness expresses itself so clearly by that second kiss. By the third, she manages to laugh into his own breath, the sound of blood overshadowing the sound of the magazine to the ground. How thoughtless, after all that magazine has done in entertaining a decade or three's worth of bored, desparate patients!

No, it is Shiryuu who comes to his senses, breathlessly leaning back as Umie does likewise, feeling the pressure of his hand pushing her against the pillow, and him away.

Some hairs have come undone, as he had predicted, laying over rosy cheeks and an open, and then closing mouth.

"... Y-yeah," she agrees. One second passes. Two. Three.

That's all that's needed for that openmouthed red line of a smile to blossom, as if she had been caught red-handed.

"Well, Ruin-san is definitely not here. I'm sure he'd hate for anyone to be enjoying themselves in front of him." shut up Umie, you were scared shitless earlier today

Five. Six. Seven-- Ah, there we go. Pain's back. Ow. Ow. Ow. Owowowowowowo

Her left shoulderblade and her right wrist hurt from her raising them, the latter smarting from the way she grips at Shiryuu's back, red chipped nails careless over his hospital gown. Also, yeah, the IV lines are not exactly positioned to allow for passionate makeouts.

Umie's lips cleave into a line against the prickles of pain. "It'll be fine," she assures, and shall assure more than one person, over the course of the next few days. "... But... y-yeah, probably shouldn't. Monitors are going to start screaming when the Dark Hour ends, otherwise..." that is not the most important reason, Umie!!!

The reason for any of this, is... ".... I nearly lost you. If I hadn't come... I would have lost you. Even with everyone there, we still barely escaped."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
She's dangerous, he reminds himself, a thought to be lost somewhere in the back of his mind. Shiryuu keeps the space between them enforced for far longer than is strictly necessary, for far longer than it takes for them to catch their breath and even still long after he's fairly sure Umie won't try to get them into a situation again.

Not dangerous to him. Not in the slightest. Exactly the opposite, really.

His fingertips grazing her lightly as he leans back, it takes a long time for the boy to take his hands off of her. Even so, he threads her hair behind her ear with a quiet sigh, reminded only of the scruffy mess his linen-wrapped mop has become, and flicking his own out of his eyes as if reminded, composing himself.

It seems a little bit more scandalous after the kiss, honestly. Shiryuu looks away, pointedly, purposefully avoiding doing anything untoward, like climbing in the bed with her.

"S--stop joking around," Ryouhara insists lamely. It's at the raw end of that little wave of pain, Shiryuu managing to speak only after his frisson of open alarm passes, after he's done checking her over to make sure her wound didn't reopen, after her hands drop away, only for one to be trapped squarely between his. By that time, the gild of troubled aggression in his voice has been exhausted, and his objection only has as its buttress a mildly vexed look. The look is only half as effective, but twice as potent when he shoots it at Umie.

The so-called runaway and that stupid, cool little smile of hers.

'Monitors are going to start screaming when the Dark Hour ends, otherwise..' the boy with the grey hair bites his lip and sighs heavily, entirely through his nose.

"....yeah," he manages.

He is delicate with her, the spaces between the bones of her fingers kneaded lightly under both of his thumbs in a soothing stroke. It's not long, truthfully, between this touch and that -- it doesn't take Shiryuu any time at all to keep contact with her, now that the magazine is somewhere underneath the bed and forgotten.

She has the whole of his attention when that pensive expression breaks into a watery attempt to smile, for an instant breaking his severe, worried mien. For an instant.

"...I'm not.."

The smile is gone, replaced by a thin, determined line. She can feel it in his hands, the tension that would have led to a squeeze in any other circumstance.

"How'd you even find out where we were," he thinks aloud, a hundred thoughts flickering through his mind, and none of them lining up right. It shows, in the way he picks along his words. "...You shouldn't be bearing a bullet for me, Umie. I'm not ... it's not right."

It's hardly the powerful thing he wants to say, the combination of words that would restore everything to its rightful place. All of those words taste sour on his tongue. He breathes out, short and sharp, pushing the details aside.

The memory of what it felt like to have the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his neck goes with them. It doesn't matter.

"I'll have to kill him, now."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It's a heady, but bittersweet moment to remind Umie that the two of them are terribly, unfortunately, maliciously a 'bond', and what that entails when it's not cute moments where one of them is bothering the other, or invading the other's peaceful, orderly life.

You know, like when Umie went wandering around a Ryouhara safehouse, listening in on conversations and lurking around prison cells, where people there are there for a reason. How long did it take for Kouzou to calm down, after she had left him? And Kouhei... what will he try next, now that Shiryuu survived?

.... How would Kouhei think, when he and they find out about Umie being a distant relative?

It'll only be a matter of time before that little so-called runaway's luck, as badly placed as it is, runs woefully out, leaving moments like these to a past of 'what-ifs'.

Edges of flaked red and pale fingertips peek from between Shiryuu's hands from where he leaned over to check her wounds. "It's fine," she assures. "It was the needles and that fracture. I'd have to try a lot harder to reopen the gunshot wound."

... Speaking of wounds... Shiryuu's confidence begs the question of whether he's actually as healed up as he seems to be, now that she's closed in on him. "... Will your right eye heal up okay, after everything?" she asks, the muscles of her fingers closing against the soothing touch of his thumbs.

She regrets asking it, as the fleeing hare that is his smile dissipates for one reason or another.

That left arm, halfway out of its sling, cautiously moves over to carefully rest a hand against those tense fingers of his, a thumb worrying over each knuckle with lavish care.

.... even when he asks how she found out. "A little bird told me," she replies, innocently. "There's been no breach of security."

Kouhei may have intended for her to die with Shiryuu, but saying his name aloud too easily may give him more trouble than he signed up for, due to this insult to the Shihaisha's pride.

"If I remember correctly, Ruin-san *did* just shoot me because I taunted him." She tilts her head. "I don't exactly call that taking a bullet for you. If anything, you were pretty determined to take one for me once things were ramping up."

Umie wouldn't call that right, either.

'I'll have to kill him, now.'

"That's..." The bed's wheels squeak as she shifts in the bed. "He's dangerous, Shiryuu. If he was there, that shows things have escalated. They wanted you to buckle, or ensure you'd be replaced with someone else."

Sure, it may be like telling fire that the forest is dry and ready to burn, but Umie can't avoid it, or freely encourage him on, the Badb inside her be damned.

So, instead of letting him think on that, she...

"Why is there someone with a Mark at that safehouse?"

Why wasn't that Umie's first question? She should have asked that at the start, she realizes, when Shiryuu brought her back.

Well, that's just one of the many what-ifs that shall add themselves to the pile.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Shiryuu doesn't know everything, despite his best attempts to the contrary. His phone had several messages left on it from Kiria, but none of them were descriptive of anything, and he'd not had the wherewithal to engage overmuch with the problem of being ready for an attack despite everything that's happened conspiring to get in his way.

As a result, he's critically unaware as yet of the discovery at the site, or the rapidly spreading revelations it's spawned about the Ryouhara jizamurai lineage.

'Know as much as possible, focus on one thing,' his instructor once told him.

Right now, the thing he focuses on is right in front of him.

She asks him if his eye is going to heal. The boy pauses.
"...it will, one way or another," he determines. The doctors had determined it looked like he'd been hit in the eye with a baseball bat, or perhaps had suffered some sort of catastrophic sinus infection -- characteristically, Shiryuu had only given 'I fell.' as an excuse, which naturally led to a line of questioning which led them nowhere. Now, he is fairly sure he is more antibiotic than man.

He blinks off the thought, his one good eye looking down, before she gives him a reason for a second look.

Ryouhara may certainly be naive, but he is not so dim so as to take Umie's words at face value. A long, suspicious look is given her, but a more protracted interrogation never comes -- there's much more to address from his bond.

'I don't exactly call that taking a bullet for you --'
"--you shouldn't have been there at all--"
'you were pretty determined to take one for me once things started ramping up --'
'-- I'll have to kill him.'
'That's - he's dangerous, Shiryuu -' "-well, it's too dangerous for you to go about -"

'They wanted you to buckle, or ensure you'd be replaced with someone else.'

Shiryuu begins to bridle immediately at the implication, his eye opening. "Zaaa--" he's about to tell her straight -- about how he'll ensure their teeth are replaced first, about how Ruin will choke on steel before he ever buckles -- but Umie is fast, and her followup cuts through most of his objections.

Shiryuu manages to bite back most of his opinion, looking down at the bed, and where her fingertips peek out from beneath his. He stares at the flaked color for a long time, an idle focus for his attention away from a harsher question that has a much less immediate answer.

"....no matter where you go in the world, you'll find people trying to escape their sins."

He is reluctant to do so, but the boy's touch and weight shifts away from her on the bed, his hands slipping away to brace on his own IV stand as he shifts his weight onto the balls of his feet, stepping away from the bed using the antiquated stand as a makeshift support. Now he looks away; out the window, towards the sky, as if trying to gauge how long the Dark Hour will last.

"...Kouzou is a lesson in the damage the decisions of selfish men can do," the boy states flatly. "We made use of him, an age ago. And then, we thought to try and make use of him again."

Shiryuu's mouth sets firmly.

"That's why what happened, happened. A string of broken men lay in our wake..." And yet, they are shinobi, is an unspoken thought. "I wanted to correct the err... but a man without a purpose is less than nothing."

Even so... Shiryuu folds his arms tightly against himself.
"I wonder how many times this world can make use of a man before nothing is left."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> What you don't know can't hurt you, at least until the morning comes.

For now, there is the two of them and the wounds they share between them, physical and mental, and the bond that ties them like a red string.

It may as well be iron, both in how unbreakable it's become, as well as how heavy it can feel compared to a silk thread.

Two shades of brown meet eyes that lean red, framed as they are by all that green and red around them. This is the first act of their dance, a combat of words and will neither will back away from.

"Me and Joker being there tipped the scales in your favor, which may have saved your life, as well as Kurou's." ... But not the life of the other man-- She tries to blot out that memory, and the image of Mai-chan walking through it, as if she were walking innocently through a puddle riddled with red leaves.

How can it feel so harsh, when she's already seen someone dissolve in front of her?

Maybe that's why her question comes out so readily, like a spring-loaded blade, and little of the payback once it sinks in. One, and done.

'....no matter where you go in the world-'

His touch leaves her with a reluctance she observes, feeling the ghost of his warmth in her fingers with the thumb of her other hand.

The doctor will surely be cross with her tomorrow, but all she can think of is the feel of the tension in Shiryuu's fingers.

"You used the Mark as punishment?" Umie surmises. "What 'use' did he serve, and what 'use' does he serve now?"

To make use of. What happened, happened. He wanted to correct the err, but a man without purpose?

".... Is that what will happen to me, Shiryuu." It's like prodding a barbed needle wedged in her skin, and expecting that it *won't* hurt. Umie's mouth feels dry, her gaze directly focused on the silver-haired man gazing out the window, his head framed by the white roses that were ironically left by another man wanting her hand in marriage.

Didn't that man know that red was a better color for her, when it came to flowers?

"Will you be forced to throw me in a cell for my own protection too?" she whispers. "Is that who we are? Things to be used?"

The Badb in her calls for blood, even while her fingers still want to rejoin with his.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
His hands flex against his arms, absently remembering her skin.

The gesture is long suffered, Shiryuu's hands never quite idle. His arm knit tightly at his waist, the gleam of the sickly moon through the tubule tracing a line under his sleeve, the boy faces away from her. It's a reminder of their ill circumstance, the absence of the symbol at his back.

Their battle is brief, but the moment is long lived, an idea that spreads roots and leaves the shihaisha shifting listlessly in place.

It is the idea that he can't protect everyone.
If he'd let Tenzen stand, perhaps Zakuro would still be alive. Perhaps Kouzou wouldn't be...

"...They say that shinobi are weapons," the bandaged boy says.

"That we live and die at the whims of our lords. That we bravely sacrifice our whole lives to be nothing and no one to anyone. That the highest honor that we could have is to die in the old ways for a future we'll never see. That is what it means to be a shinobi."

"...but..."

...Shiryuu shakes his head. "I don't believe in that."

The thought is hard, harsh. "I think that we're meant to be more. That all the children of this world deserve a chance to realize their own life, and their own bonds with one another, on and on in the cycle, until everyone is in harmony. That is 'synthesis.'"

The Order misunderstands it when he says it, frequently, misunderstands 'Synthesis' to mean the World Without Sin. A lack of understanding is not his problem.

"It's not easy. You're beset on all sides by the conspiracies of evil men. Again and again, they'll return to the idea that people are just weapons. They'll try to kill and to coerce, to hold ransom the idea of your own personhood from you. We're seduced by that empty world too often..."

Shiryuu is not awkward when he says this, and his thinking is barely dogged by the infernal doubt that follows him around. The boy thinks hard on what he says, and what he thinks is simple, at the very end of it:

"I think that's why terrible people like me need to exist. To ensure that you can realize a good life."

She asked if that's how she'll end up, alone and in a cell for her own safety. Shiryuu's mouth sets against the light.

"...I won't allow it," he says, after awhile.
"You. Kurou. The clan. It doesn't matter. I will..." he pauses, for an acid moment. "..I should always be the one to stand between you and the bullet, no matter what form it takes. I'm the strongest...and it's my responsibility."

Shiryuu blinks, his one eye breaking from the light outside, dark brown falling into the shadow.

"...no one else's."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> A young man, absent his symbol, his weapon, and his Persona, along with it.

A few days later from now, Umie and Joker will relate about similar worries. Joker was unable to keep Zakuro, a man they knew likely has killed many, from dying, which was a mark on the principal they and the Phantom Thieves enforce, both on themselves and others around them. For Umie, it was simpler: she felt she could have affected the results with her own abilities, but her kneejerk hesitation to directly fight Ruin, as well as her choice being the 'easier' one of the two she saw in front of her.

One was duty, the other, shame.

For Shiryuu, maybe, it is a fusion of the two, as leader, and as one responsible for sparing Zakuro in exchange for a new path, which still led to his death.

Kouhei said similar things, and to that, Umie had said, and says now:

"That implies the world is filled with extraordinary people, for a Ryouhara to be expendable." She tilts her head, strands of blonde shifting across her forehead as she gives him a lopsided, fond smile. "But beyond that," she continues, "that is why you did what you did for Kurou Ryouhara-kun, isn't it?"

"... And what you saw, that day, with me." What Shiryuu saw in an innocent frog-shaped ice pack: the many, many nights of a girl, by herself. What was freedom and agency was also needless risk and isolation, a loneliness that deepened when her inexperience managed to kill an innocent person, with no way to directly make amends save guilt and paranoia for the karmic judgement that was certain to follow. Umie may later relish in the partial illusion of someone who didn't care, displaying it before Akechi a day from now, but still... in those moments, it's a mask to protect herself.

From the conspiracies of evil men, and the forces they enable.

But not always, as something in Umie refuses to accept Shiryuu's methods completely, despite that softness in her tone, or the way her thumb strokes the palm of the other in the recollection of his own, doing the same.

(Or, *especially*, how undeniably attractive he looks, framed like that. How does he do that while still connected to an IV pole?!)

"And what if I disagree?"

Her lower eyelids rise against the spark in her eyes. "What if I say that you, Shiryuu Ryouhara, are worth what I've gone through? Don't get me wrong, I love a good rescue as much as anyone, but I also am not a princess in need of rescuing."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
'That implies the world is filled with extraordinary people, for a Ryouhara to be expendable.'

"Aa....maybe."

It would be easy to say that everything he'd done was to allow Kurou to live a good life. It would be easy, to say something like that. But is it not naive to think of himself as that type of person...? Someone who could be 'kind' like that.

"I don't think it's that easy, though.."
It _would_ be an easy thing, to let himself off the hook as magnanimous. But it's not kindness to condemn someone with forgiveness, nor to consent to something you could never feel.

The memory of a vast greyscale curtain chases the shinobi's eyes away to the white roses on the sill, a slow blink banishing the thoughts of pretty, empty-headed pets. How long have they been there? ... how long has he been lost in her scent, in her voice set against the light of the wild moon?

She'd said something about it. White roses. Left by someone. He has no clue what they mean. Flowers are not his strong suit.

But even so. The boy with the grey hair moves almost imperceptibly, the sound of his robe's lining the only signifier that he even moved at all. Politely, his stance changes, weight moving from one foot to the other, shifting uncomfortably away from the roses, enough so that his stand lurches with the motion as well, unbalanced before frozen wheels give, creaking to move an inch or two with him.

... he should be the strongest... the most invincible.. right?

Shiryuu swallows, the sound audible in the otherwise dead silence.
He's still staring at the roses. Who -would- give a girl roses, indeed. The context is vastly different now than it was in that hotel room.

"...The world is filled with extraordinary people, though."

The admission is--even in the silence, even in air that would betray a pin drop--almost too quiet to hear, an admission borne somewhere in the back of his throat. The onmitsu closes his eye with a knife-short sigh, turning away from the window, from that infuriatingly impenetrable, impassable curtain, from the roses placed just beyond it.

She's someone who's been alone all of her life, with no one to look after her, so the glance he gives her is distant and lidded by the time she challenges his thinking. He watches her lips move. But...

"...you can disagree, if you like."

It is times like these that the onmitsu is the most thoughtful, taking his IV stand by the staff and pulling its against his shoulder with a visible grimace when the added weight hits his spine. Truthfully, there's no reason to -- there's no one here who would even hear the squealing. But...

The devil _is_ in the details.

"... I'm going to go see if I can find you some things, in the next wing over, before the regime reasserts itself. ... if that's okay."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> If the flowers had been left there by someone with a name, rather than some spirit unworthy of mention, Umie refuses to give it any notice beyond what she as already.

After all, Syuusei Honjou is a man of pride, setting the template for the sort of man Umie assumed Ruin was, by extension. But where Syuusei would have likely sputtered and been rendered ineffectual in that face-to-face context, Ruin had so much more in wealth of his rage and violence to spend.

It was a lesson Umie almost didn't walk away from.

When Shiryuu finally seems to notice the roses there and backs away, Umie makes a soft 'tsk, tsk' under her breath.

She considers, her eyes tracing his awkward pass from foot to foot. "You think Ryouhara-kun might appreciate these? It's not the roses' fault they were chosen poorly. ... I think he'd appreciate a visit from you as well, assuming he's still here."

Kurou'd probably feel better curled up in his blanket in their apartment, rather than in a hospital.

Shiryuu, meanwhile, is still looking at those roses. Does he suspect she has feelings for someone else?

Umie's gaze grows gentle.

Silly, silly Shiryuu. You can't escape now.

"I prefer the ones you gave me, for the record-- the red petals looked beautiful falling against your hair." A situation that only happened because they made things more and more complicated for each other, as such things went with the two of them.

The world is filled with extraordinary people, indeed, but the person she sees, this mess of a person, with his messy hair, bandaged face, and distracted mein...

That is the person she loves.

So much so that she'll fight him, as they once agreed. "I don't need your permission," she says, even if the veiled, glinted look in her eyes and the pursed part of her lips speak another, much more affectionate set of terms.

And that is all she speaks of as he ponders there, attempting to wheel along that obstinate IV pole.

'... if that's okay.'

"... I think I can allow that," she says, with a sharp little smile. "Maybe some magazines. Though I imagine I won't get to hear you read to me the next Dark Hour, unless they manage to keep you another day. Your voice is very soothing, you know that?"

There much more she wants to say, so many things that just don't feel right to say in the moment, or don't seem to fit in any of the sounds she could make. She looks at him, framed as he is in that weak, unearthly light, shadow and white, frail, but strong as steel, his actions calculated. His hair, silver, picking up the surroundings like a ghost, his lips, hard in thought, though in recent memory she would know how soft they felt against hers. Even in his 'robes', he attempts to define himself.

She dips her head instead, saying some things that feel like inadequate against everything she feels, both good and bad.

"... Thank you, Shiryuu. For being my bond, and... letting me be yours."

These are words she'd never thought she'd ever say, with meanings that only make sense in the context Shiryuu had set, that night.

She blames this impossible hour for everything she's feeling.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
In times like these, it's easy to remove himself from the equation. To think of the way things would be if he had never seized control of his fate, never became ...

... who he is now.

"A hundred mistakes," the boy thinks to himself, arms folded in front of those roses. If he'd not been there to make them, maybe someone else would. The words of only a few moments before taste sour the longer he thinks on them. Those powerful, confident words sit on the other side of that static veil, spoken by someone who was killed and left for dead. They are the right things to say, he thinks.

But the longer he looks, the more he thinks someone else said them.

Someone who would have known better than to let precious people die, or end up in such a miserable state.

'It's not the roses' fault they were chosen poorly.'

"Mm?" Shiryuu asks politely, broken of the thought and trying to focus on what was being said. Please be present, Ryouhara... things are bad enough.

"...they're .. it'd .. be nice," he decides.
The implication that he should be the one to bring them to Kurou sails right over his head, replaced by a thought to check on him.

He blinks twice as Umie tells him about the red roses, as the actual meaning of her words starts to filter through his senses, moreso than the sound and shape of her voice against his ear, moreo than even the way the miserable job he did with her hair is complimented by her smile, and the way she resolves to fight him.

Shiryuu's eye unfocuses, trying to look at the strand of silver hair in the middle of his face, a strangely long time after she brings up his hair. He makes a face, suddenly self conscious enough to blow the errant strand out of the way with a puff of air.

"...ahem," Shiryuu clears his throat for what must be the fourth or fifth time in the past few minutes. It's harsher than usual, as if quietly attempting to disprove anything Umie says about his voice. "I..."

Nothing really seems to fit the shape of what he'd like to say. For an acid moment, Shiryuu murmurs something underneath his breath. 'get it together. if nothing else...'

'...thank you.'

Shiryuu looks back up to her, meeting Umie's eyes, two to one, for one glancing half second. He checks on her vitals on the monitor, focusing on the blank, dead screen for a few seconds too long. He looks at her again; and tries to smile. This time he manages to for a whole three seconds. His grip tightens on his IV stand as something inside of him aches and anxious.

This girl...

He doesn't want to leave.

"....I'm not going anywhere," Shiryuu finally replies after an awkward moment, quiet and resolute and faraway and too close at once. His hand twitches, soothing nothing in him at all.

"...I think I ...need to be here, with you."
He tries to smile one more time for Akabane before the boy turns, padding off silently with the stand over his shoulder to find her better magazines.

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-07-18: Open Up

2026-07-21T03:23:44Z

Tanyuu:

*'''Log: Open Up'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Ren Amamiya]], [[Umie Akabane]]
*'''Where:''' Meiji Shrine, Shibuya Ward, Tokyo
*'''OOC Date:''' July 18, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 11, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''After the events of the Mizunagi's disappearance (and reappearance?), Umie and Joker finally meet back up. While their relationship has resumed its normal course of being allies, some experiences are worth opening up about, especially on the subjects of dealing with what they both saw. (CW: Indirect references to violent death.)''

----
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
It feels like it's been longer than it actually has since the Mizunagi descended. Ren hasn't talked to Umie since, either as Ren or as Joker--at least, not until earlier today, when Umie contacted them through Joker's old burner phone, which they hadn't yet disposed of. They responded on the new one, letting her know of the change, and agreeing to meet with her at the Meiji Shrine during the Dark Hour.

Morgana wasn't a fan of that part, but still, he agreed to drive them there and play lookout--just in case Shiryuu or Ruin decide to drop in. (Playing lookout from hiding also means the two can test if Ruin really can sense Mona or if he was bullshitting.)

So in the land of twilight, under the moon, Umie will arrive at the Meiji Shrine with no one there, not even coffins. (There are no visitors after dark, and the Shinto priests and priestesses will have already turned in for the night.) Seemingly no one there, at least, for after she's passed through the entrance torii and headed on in a short distance, she'll hear a voice at her back.

"Hail and well met, Umie Akabane."

When she turns and looks up, she'll see Joker seated atop that torii, legs folded and giving her a confident half-smile. "You still live, I see. I'm glad." They hook a boot up underneath them, then leap and twirl to land beside her with cat-like grace. Once they rise, they look with concern at her arm in its sling, then meet her eyes. "I trust you and your companions all made it out of that ship all right?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It definitely *feels* longer, but some of that may have been because of Umie's strictly enforced stay at the hospital.

There had been no further messages to Joker on that burner phone, despite Umie being so very tempted to check in again and make sure Joker was okay.

In the end, she had to just trust that he, being a Phantom Thief, would know how to get out of the sticky situation or two.

Now, with Umie out and the exchange and change of numbers settled, maybe Umie can find out a little more about that night, as well as settle her own worries over Jok--

.... wait, Meiji Shrine?

Umie pauses at her unambiguous, confident reply of 'sure'.

Yes. It'll be fine. She'll have her mask on, so it'll be fine.

=====

'Hail and well met, Umie Akabane.'

The concentrated, almost dour expression that Umie had at the gates is gone by the time she looks over towards that voice; the half mask is on, it being a flimsy yen store excuse for even her usual array of paper maiche designs.

"Glad to see I haven't scared you away, Joker." Umie's reply comes out in that automatic, relaxed way thats surprises her, as she keeps her focus to the present.

The cat-like spectacle earns a twinkle in Umie's eyes and a few careful claps of her hand, as Joker straightens.

".... Ahhh. I'm afraid to report that I'm a ghost now." She wiggles the fingers of her right hand for effect.

Following Joker's gaze to her arm, Umie bows her head slightly, with a small nod. "It's okay. It's just a precaution." And a good one, too, considering how she threw herself into another hassle the other day!

Wiggling the fingers of her left hand where they peek from her sling, Umie continues. "The bigger injury was the bullet wound. Though, I'm much more interested in how *you* did. I admit, I was worried."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
Joker chuckles at Umie's claim of ghosthood. "Truly? Then I must insist you join us, now that you're a real 'phantom.'" They smirk and wink at her, but soon settle into the gravity of concern. She reassures them, and they aren't fully convinced, but they nod anyway.

"Bullet wounds usually are," they say dryly. Still, from what they know of media depictions of bullet wounds, and that's essentially what an injury from a cognitive world weapon is (''is'' Ruin's gun a model in the real world? Joker should find out for sure), if she can move her hand, she should be fine.

"I ended up in there with Ruin. Little more need be said, beyond that his company is insufferable. Still, he didn't choose to attack me. Small blessings," they state. "Then the Ryouharas two also live?"

They pause at their own question. "Though, speaking of such... That man who accompanied Shiryuu Ryouhara, and died at Ruin's hand..." They bow their head slightly. "What was his name?"

If they're going to have nightmares about it--if they're going to pay the proper respects--then it only feels right to know the name of the man who was murdered that night.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Oh stop it," Umie laughs, as Joker winks. "Being a yurei only makes my troublesome nature that much more powerful~"

However, it's time for business. While the bubble of someone she trusts makes her forget, for a sweet second, that this place is ordinary, the overlay of the sacred and the abhorrence of nightmare threatens to intrude again, the longer she draws out the moment.

Still, Joker wouldn't have been the only one who took a look at that sling. A fractured clavicle was common enough in sports, but the a sling drew more attention than the thankfully hidden and mostly healed gunshot wound under her clothing.

It's still a reminder, even so, how how close everyone was to...

"... You sound like you've stared down a few gun barrels yourself." Oh, if Umie only knew. "So you were brought in too. Just with--" Ruin. _Ruin_.

Maybe Joker will appreciate how wide those eyes get, reflecting the glint of the verdant moon despite the paper mask being in the way. "... ... are you sure you're not the ghost here, Joker?" Experimentally, she pokes the finger of her right hand out, attempting to touch a single messy lock sticking out before drawing it back, whether Joker allows for contact or not.

"He must have felt out of his depth too, to go along with it." Small blessings, indeed.

Especially since they both know what Ruin is capable of, and is willing to do.

"Both of them are well. The nurses who had to deal with Shiryuu constantly trying to break out of his room? Not so much." Umie quirks a small, fond smile, at that. "... He deserves it. Ryouhara-kun..."

The information sits at the back of her throat, her lips willing, but her brain suddenly realizing what she'd volunteer, and has already. "He's fine," she says, with a nod. "As best as I can tell."

Still, Joker has every reason to not even care, and yet, he does, even asking about...

"...." Umie quells a shudder, a winter jacket suddenly doesn't feel like enough. That man's name... Her gaze lowers. "... I don't know. But I can ask, and pass it on."

She didn't even ask about it, Umie thinks. Is she that far gone that she'd refuse to know the name of someone who died like that?

".... Was that the first time you've..."

Her hands settle in her pockets, her breath casting clouds upon the air. "If you... don't mind my asking."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
Joker smiles mysteriously and shrugs a bit when Umie speculates on them and gun barrels. They don't precisely ''appreciate'' how wide her eyes get, but they do let her reach out and poke them. Given that they've never tried to remove ''her'' mask, they trust she won't try that on them, and sure enough, she doesn't.

"He enjoyed some of it. Mostly the parts where he got to be... physical," they reply dryly. "Less so when all those machines swarmed us and tried to carry us off." They don't really know why Ruin chose not to engage them in direct violence, but... he ''does'' act differently when the two of them are alone together.

When they have the boldness to reach out and touch him.

Joker isn't ''eager'' to see him again, but they do wonder how far he would let them go--a thought they know is dangerous to entertain, but that they can't just dismiss either. It remains the only thing they know will come close to stopping him.

Umie explains how the Ryouharas are doing. What little she says about Shiryuu ''is'' illuminating, and Joker notes her realizing it and scaling back on the matter of Kurou. They should see him, too... Though as Ren instead. ''If'' he'll see Ren. For now, Joker merely nods.

Umie doesn't know that man's name. They're a little surprised, but only a little. When she starts to ask that question, they shut their eyes and take a deep breath in and out through their nose. Umie has seen someone die before--did it by her own hands, if by accident, if their suspicion is correct. "Yes," they say quietly. "I'm a thief of Treasures, not of lives." They open their eyes to meet her gaze soberly. "Please do," they add, of her asking and passing the name on. "Though not if it will put you in danger."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>
Umie's boldness doesn't extend past a curl, for better or worse; she knows Joker is real. There's just the slight depression of a single strand with a single poke of her index finger, and her inner acknowledgment that he didn't move back.

Indeed, Joker is correct: his mask stays on, just as Umie's own remains.

Joker elaborating on the subject of Ruin cures that shocked look, utter surprise turning to sober understanding. "So you saw those machines too... did you see the forge, at all? We barely managed to get there before the place let us out."

She never considered Ruin's safety. "... Did it let the two of you at Narumi Memeorial Hospital too?"

.... Guilt rises in her chest, a constant spectator that seems to naturally follow the topic of death and near misses.

She glances downwards. "If we weren't on a timer of our own, I would have looked for you. So... I owe you an apology."

There's been many things Umie doesn't realize she wears on her sleeve; a demon audience does not train a person on the art of being subtle, especially on the more altruistic of emotions.

He's a thief of treasures, not lives. "... Spoken like someone who'd reach out to help out an ally in her hour of need," she gently observes, with a small grin.

But the Phantom Thieves still feel, as Joker does, as she sees him breathe and steady himself.

What would have been the sort of person she would have wanted, that day? Or *that* day?

.... No, not just that. She has seen a life dissolve in front of her eyes; perhaps that's why a part of her was callous about even asking a name.

But she's not so far gone, she reminds herself, not to notice what's in front of her.

Umie nods quietly, the action feeling so much louder in the still environment.

"... Do you want to talk about it? About... anything."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
"Yes," Joker replies. "Those machines were trying to drag the two of us to it, I assume to dump us in. However... we managed to escape." They frown. "Something... freed us. I don't know what. Ruin seemed as confused as I was."

Did it let them out at Narumi Memorial Hospital? Joker's eyes widen slightly, and they shake their head. "No. When we escaped, we left through a torii and arrived at Alaya Shrine." They consider Umie for a moment, then add, "And when we arrived, we fell a long ways to a Shinto shrine in moonlight. Where did the three of you enter from? If we never saw each other, we likely fell in at different points."

After all, it was a giant puzzle maze of a dungeon. It seems wholly reasonable to Joker that there's multiple entry points.

They smile slightly at her apology and shake their head. "No need. We each had to trust that the other would be able to handle themselves." They smile, too, at her commentary on reaching out, and shrug again. "You reached out to me, as I recall," they point out, but otherwise don't deny it.

That smile fades, though, when she offers a listening ear. They consider her and bow their head. It... might be good to talk to someone who was there. They don't know how to talk about it, though. They take a moment to sort through it in their head, translate it into how Joker would speak, and then begin to quietly speak.

"I realize it isn't my task to save everyone--especially those who choose to treat with organizations like the New World Order. I expect that man who died has killed others himself; perhaps he was prepared to be killed one day also. My first and foremost priority is to protect the helpless. However... I also can't stand idle when another is in dire need of help."

They lift their head to meet Umie's eyes anew. "The Phantoms don't kill. That's one of our rules. To not kill, and truly mean it, also means to not allow others to be killed in our presence if we can help it."

And... they couldn't help it.

They couldn't do anything to stop Ruin--or Shiryuu, or Kurou, who would have killed Ruin without a second thought had he not had the strength to not only survive but beat them back.

"It... bothers me, that there was nothing I could do."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Those red brown eyes widen again behind the mask, for a brief moment. Ah. Should she tell Joker?

Trick question! She's already talking. "We saw something like a demon or shadow get dragged there and turned into... building material." Her lips fall flat. "... I guess... maybe the place saw you as worthy of letting go? That's what happened to us." Her expression relaxes, as she carefully turns her head, trying to toss a stray strand of blonde hair from over her eyes. "... So Alaya Shrine... maybe there's a connection, but... a hospital and a shrine..."

Where did they enter from? "The side we came in from looked like the Mizunagi. Shiryuu was ready to run in to look for a sick bay for supplies." The strand of hair shifts back over, leading Umie to carefully raise her right arm to tease it back instead. "Thankfully we weren't willing to let him go off and get killed again." She sighs. "... There's a lot of things I don't understand about that space. Did you two see a..." her tongue perches on the words like an awkward bird, unable to find purchase on a steady reed.

There are tons of shrines, like the one they stand in, now, or the one that Joker and Ruin exited through.

"... It doesn't matter. There is another issue: someone's been playing with rumors to connect my family to the Ryouharas, down to the Mizunagi. I can't confirm it since... well, for many reasons. I'm wondering if maybe... something of that... is involved."

"I realize your team is busy, but I'd... appreciate it if some of you can investigate it sometime. If it's a Palace... well." She reflexively nearly shrugs, but stops herself. "It didn't feel like it, however. But if there's Treasure, go for it."

She tries not to think about what she just casually offered.

She doesn't have to, as her focus comes to the state of Joker's own heart-- that is, the feelings he's dealing with, seemingly circling through his head as he falls silent.

"... I did." She offers as a small acknowledgment, and a smile, before doing likewise.

Umie closes her eyes; when she opens then anew, she finds Joker looking at her, his words firm, determined.

It's admirable, to hear Joker reaffirm what he said to her once, now in full. The last few months haven't changed his or the Phantoms' stance.

She is silent, sorting through her thoughts, shifting through her own experiences, even if she can't claim to be as noble.

"... That hurt might never go away, completely." Her words fall soft against the cold grounds, her gaze looking up towards the still sky and its moon.

"... But I think you're doing the right thing. You're choosing to humanize that person, instead of letting them stay anonymous. You've chosen to see the humanity in people who have hurt you and your friends, as well-- both in Shiryuu and Kurou, and in Ruin, even."

Her gaze falls back down towards Joker's own. "Perhaps that's also what it means to be the Phantom Thieves of Hearts."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
Joker listens quietly to Umie as she describes how she and the Ryouharas saw something ''else'' get dropped into the forge, but no attempt made on them. "Hmm. Perhaps," they say of the hypothesis she suggests. The three of them entered from what looked like the Mizunagi... Joker holds a hand to their chin. "Hmm. And the Mizunagi crashed into Narumi Memorial Hospital, did it not? Perhaps that's the connection--ship to hospital, shrine to shrine."

There's a lot about that space they didn't understand either. They frown at her when she starts to ask a question and changes her mind. "Say it," they state, tucking their hands into their pockets. If she really insists it doesn't matter, though, they'll let it go. Instead, they mull on this rumor she mentions. They'll have to ask Hibari if she knows or has heard anything about it.

"It didn't feel like a Palace," they reply, looking back up. "If it is, it behaves unlike any Palace we've ever seen." Granted, they currently have a sample size of four, which is hardly a large pool, but still. "I've already let my compatriots know about it and warned them to be cautious should they explore it themselves, but I have a few more contacts. I'll see if they know anything about that rumor."

They explain their trauma as best they can. Umie is silent for a moment too, and they wait for her. Her response... helps, actually, and they smile again slightly as they tilt their head in acknowledgement. "Thank you. For both your honesty, and your encouragement." They shake their head. "Don't mistake me--I still consider those three our enemies. However, that doesn't mean I want to see any of them die, either."

They know how relieved they'd felt when Shiryuu kicked Ruin in the head and his neck ''hadn't'' been broken. There's really only one reasonable explanation for that, considering what Ruin had just done at that point.

"...What about yourself, Umie Akabane?" they add. "How are you holding up after that experience?"

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "I can't tell if it's the same ship. They're not letting anyone close by it, either; entire wing's cordoned off. Another night or two and I'll have to see if I can slip in during the Dark Hour." She states this with confidence; this involves a goal, after all. "

'Say it.' Umie's lips can't help but slide in an impish, lopsided grin, which melts away as fast as it appears. Just one of the subtle movements, like a snowflake falling against one's outstretched hand in an hour that has none.

"... A red shrine, inside a red room." Her expression grows vague, her lips held back in a frown. "Don't let it see you."

She tries to make the warning feel casual, but there were many things there, some of which only Ruin and Joker experienced. "Is there anything else you remember about the insides?"

At least it isn't a Palace. Umie lets out a long breath. "Honestly, I'm kind of glad. I'm not sure if I want to know who'd be helming one like this."

He's already let them know, and will look into the rumor. "Thank you. There's... a lot of unknowns here." Her lips fall into a thin line. "I..." Why does that feel like such a weight off her chest? It's not going to go away until she faces it herself-- all of it.

"I don't know what I did. I thought I knew how this all worked, but I don't. ... I don't like it. The more I look, the more I don't like it." The hitch in Umie's breath would have been more subtle, save for the white puff of air that highlights each word and hesitation like Morse code.

Despite how it feels, to this close to being honest with how she felt, it feels like letting Joker understand a little more.

And he, also, lets some of what has been on his mind as well.

"Of course. I'm glad I could help, a little. I think it'd be good to open up to your teammates as well. They'll probably have to struggle with the same feelings, sooner or later, if you're all following the same path."

The comment on the three gives Joker a surprised cackle from Umie. "You realize you're just speaking their language, right? Shiryuu probably is pissed he didn't get to fight you directly." She shifts to one foot. "You have my permission, by the way. Beat his ass, and then I'll get to dote and annoy him back to health for being an idiot."

It's affectionate! Really.

The smirk flees as Joker turns the question back to her. She breathes.

"... My hesitation." SHe wets her lips, realizing that fragment won't be enough.

"I chose to stay by you and Ryouhara-kun. WIth Ruin distracted, I could have darted in and took him by surprise. You've seen me do it. But it was... Ruin. I chose the easier route."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
"I see." Joker thinks it would be damned weird if it ''weren't'' the same ship, even if one is just a cognitive version of the other, but they're sure not going to tell Umie ''not'' to make sure. "Be careful. I'm sure the NWO is monitoring during the Dark Hour as well."

Though, silently, they have to wonder how much Umie is still afraid of the NWO at this point.

A red shrine in a red room? Joker looks briefly puzzled before shaking their head. "No, I saw nothing like that. Besides the forge, there was a great and ever-changing puzzle box we had t enter. Inside we found a moonlit shrine in a starless night, a battlefield of abandoned weapons overseen by a great metal guardian, a shadow play of whispering, gossiping women, a series of locked gates... and the recurring presence and laughter of a girl. The Mizunagi apparently 'belongs' to her in some way, so if it ''is'' a Palace, she must be its Ruler."

To say nothing of the beautiful roll of star silk they found in their inventory after escaping--a consolation prize, apparently, after their escape from the forge. It's happened, though usually after a boss fight. Still, Joker doesn't sound like they think it's a Palace. It's its own thing, created, or perhaps summoned, by... whatever Umie and Shiryuu did together, though they're fairly sure they know what. However, then Umie herself says she doesn't know what she did, and they give her a thoughtful frown.

"Whatever it was you did, Shiryuu Ryouhara invoked what felt like the same sort of power. It was, as far as I could tell, the two of you together that called the Mizunagi into being." A beat. "Was that, by chance, the Mark you explained to me before?" It felt so similar to the Old Maid's power, so if it ''is'' the same... that means Shiryuu is also Marked. That might be one explanation for why he's so taken with her, or at least part of it. The seed for his interest, perhaps.

Their dark eyes soften a bit when she suggests they talk to their teammates about what they witnessed. "I mentioned it a bit... but you're right. A passing mention isn't the same as opening up," they admit. That's something they've struggled with for a long time, and they know that seeing Minako continue to keep her secrets made them backslide on that some. It felt like permission to continue to do that themself when the reason they started to try to be more open was keeping up the same behavior that hurt her. That's no reason to shut out their closest friends, though. Some things can stay private, but this isn't a burden they should try to hold all by themself--especially since Umie's right. Sooner or later, it's likely one or several of them will witness similar horrors.

Umie's cackle and her pointing out that those three ''love'' violence gets Joker to heave a dramatic sigh. (Truthfully, they enjoy violence themself too, much like the rest of The Phantoms, as the recent fight against Shadow Kenzo underscored for them. They just don't want to do a violence to actual human beings as opposed to Shadows and Demons--not when it might end up a life-or-death conflict.) "I appreciate that," they say dryly of her permission.

Her hesitation. Joker gives Umie a questioning look, and they don't have to wait long for her to explain. "I see." A beat. "No, that was wise. It's extremely difficult to take Ruin by surprise. I've tried it, with Mona's help. He only pretended to be fooled, and we suffered the consequences when he decided to stop pretending." They shake their head. "I understand, though. It's difficult not to think 'what if?' after such situations."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It *should* be the same ship. Logic would dictate it. ,,, But there have been a lot of things that have failed logic, as of late.

It would be logical for Umie to be a little more afraid of the NWO, for that matter.

.... It also helps to have friends and allies you want to impress by looking fearless in the face of danger. "Ehh." One eyelid closes in a casual wink, her lips quirking in a small smirk. "I may not be a Phantom Thief, but the Dark Hour is *my* time, not theirs."

It is there for them every night: a still beautiful night with no stars.

"... A starless..." A shrine? Gossiping women. A metal guardian over a battlefield of weapons. A laughing girl. Something like fear is allowed to peek through in Umie's eyes, that confidence gone. No, it can't be. How?

However, with it, Joker gives a gift: further information, from what they saw. "... So that's why..." The stain of kegare in the air, the bleeding from his right eye.

And so, Umie gives a small pearl of information back. "He's got a curse of his own, in a way, so you're partially correct." Shiryuu *could* still have the Mark, but this seems to fit. "His right eye is special. I'm not sure on the specifics, but I can tell you that, if that iris changes color, or if it starts to tear up or bleed, you need to watch out."

It was the two of them, together. Umie ponders over this with a frown. "... I.... wasn't thinking of escalating things so quickly in our relationship," she says, with a wry tone. "But I guess summoning demons wasn't going to necessarily help me, either, unless one of them could heal me."

That wry line of a frown turns to a sharpening little grin, that only expands as Joker humors her back.

But there's hesitation, as well. Umie's now serious expression lightens as Joker says it was a wise decision.

"It's also... It's... Ruin," she repeats, only this time, she explains further. "With other agents, it felt like the pushback would be only on me, and... that's okay. But Ruin..."

The name fits, for a reason. "... The more I fight back, the more danger I put my family in," she admits, softly. "We're not on speaking terms, and not all of that was just because of a rocky relationship. But eventually, the Order will call my bluff. In one way, they likely have, if they're the ones behind the rumor." They'd know about the connection between her and Shiryuu and Kurou, after all. Of course, when facing him directly, such considerations fell by the wayside, but Joker likely knows a few people like that, in their life...

"That's why they can never find out who any of you are, because then they'll have that power over all of you too."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
Joker sees that hint of fear on Umie's face as they describe what they saw in Mizunagi. She definitely knows something. She ought to, if the Mizunagi was created and/or summoned by at least half of her power. However, they choose not to push the matter in the moment. They simply give her a steady, knowing look and let her choose what to say, if anything. Maybe that'll be now; maybe it'll be at some point in the future.

So: not the Mark, but some other sort of curse. Joker ''had'' noticed the mismatch of colors in Shiryuu's eyes before, but hadn't thought anything of it beyond that it was unusual. So his right eye is 'special,' huh... Thinking back, they believe they might have seen that during that battle, but they'd been so caught up with Kurou and Ruin that they couldn't pay much attention to it. "I'll keep that in mind."

God. Shiryuu is ''so'' chuuni they can't even believe it.

As for demons, they could have potentially formed a wall of bodies to slow Ruin down while everyone else got away--but Joker doesn't say that out loud. They don't see a problem with fighting and killing most Shadows or Demons, since to the best of their knowledge they just go back to the Sea of Unconsciousness or whatever Igor called it, but it feels like a step too far to suggest summoning them just to die.

But Umie explains her fear that Ruin, and the recent rumors about 'Unohime' and the connection between the Ryouharas and the Akabanes, sources back to the NWO--and that they might eventually target her family. Joker nods slowly. They're on bad terms with their own family, but that doesn't mean they'd stand by and do nothing if their parents got targeted--especially if it was because of them. They quirk a faint half-smile at her last remark, though.

"Indeed. That's the life of a phantom thief, though," they reply. "Our justice is one that doesn't play nice with the law. Hiding our identities is part and parcel with that."

In that light, it's no wonder negotiations broke down with SEES, a group very much about organization and rules. Oh well. At least they tried. Now the ball is in their court.

"I'll leave it at that for now, then--unless you have anything else you wish to say," they say pointedly as they take a half-step away.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It's like two forces: that need to say more, to include Joker in on what is there, and the need to keep things secret, and let them exist on separate platforms.

To acknowledge those locks, those locked doors, means infecting others with her delusions.

'I mentioned it a bit... but you're right. A passing mention isn't the same as opening up,' Joker had said.

'I'll keep that in mind.' Yes, Joker. Shiryuu is *that* chuuni. But it's part of why Umie finds him so adorable.

... As well as the deep wells of strength, flaws, and complexity Shiryuu shows beneath those quirks.

Every single person, so full of mysteries and locked doors. Things facing outward, like masks, protecting what's inside... Much the ones Joker and Umie wear now.

"Ah, so selfless," Umie murmurs with a mischievous tilt. "It must so difficult, being fashionably mysterious at all times."

But... there was a moment, when that mask (not the literal one) broke. He had called her Akabane-san, even Umie, if maybe just because of that shorter time to speak.

"I think another 'thank you' is in order, don't you think?" Umie says, tilting her chin, as Joker takes a step back. "I'd treat you to a meal, but I'm afraid there's nothing open at this time of night. I suppose... you'll have to do with my gratitude."

But is that all she wishes to say? Her eyes are on the half-step Joker takes.

If there's anything she wishes to say, Joker had said. He's already deduced that she hears something, on account of her Mark, much like how Sudou did.

"... She calls herself Maihime, but... I've always called her Mai-chan. Since I was little."

To say the name is enough of a risk. She have expects something to come running down at them, or some type of punishment she could feel

"... Letting people in on what you're dealing with is hard for you, isn't it?" Letting her gaze rise, Umie offers a skewed grin. "I guess... it's like that for me, too. But it'd be terrible for me to give advice like that... and not take it myself, wouldn't it? To that end, I think it's a good idea, opening up to them. Even if it's hard."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
Joker chuckles. "''Ever'' so difficult, alas, but I make do." They regard her as she offers another thank you. "The thought alone is enough for me. You're welcome, Umie Akabane."

It ''is'' different now. The fact that they'd called her Akabane-san, called her Umie, does hint that they way they act here and the way they think inside aren't the same. However, it's as she thinks: masks upon masks. They're back to 'Umie Akabane,' that way of addressing others by their full names.

"..." They're silent when she names the voice inside her head. It's... strange, to think that such a thing ''has'' a name. Stranger still that Umie understands some of what they're going through--though knowing what they do about her, it really shouldn't be.

"It is," they acknowledge quietly. "I thank you for your trust." They turn fully away. "Then may we both follow that sage advice of yours."

In a blur of motion, they leap up, springboard off the torii above, and vanish into the night. A smaller smear of darkness might just leap up out of the woods to join them, but from this distance, it's hard to tell for sure.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It's perhaps a necessary thing, given what Umie just said. Little rebellious 'runaway' or not, Umie is connected to the Order in a direct way, through Shiryuu and Kurou.

If Ruin had found out, Umie considers, he'd take advantage of that without a second thought.

.... or would he, if he was willing to move through that maze with Joker? Just like when she underestimated Ruin's anger when she taunted him (not her smartest moment, considering she was scared of him before), how much does she really know?

Well, with luck, Umie won't have to ponder any further than she has to, nor will Joker.

"...." A maze of corridors, locked doors, walled off sequences, whispering, gossip, without a single soul in sight.

She could say a million things to try to tailor that possibility of Joker's view of her being blemished, but Umie takes a mental step back and lets the 'detective' do his own assessment.

Isn't it strange, when you find those little similarities?

Or how two words is enough, to acknowledge it, without having to say any more.

There's a relieved grin at Joker's back when they turn. "Good luck."

Ah, that's not a great thing to say, considering Umie's own, but she lets the sentiment behind those words stand.

She does, however, add three more words: "Take care, you."

Watching Joker depart, The blonde waits, a gremlin smile as she sees what she suspects to be a second blur-- always suspect at this hour, but she chooses to believe it to be one thing. "... You too, Mona," she says, mostly to herself.

She takes a breath, letting it flow through her lips as she turns away from the forest and towards the torii gates. Taking a step forward, she walks through it, and towards the massive main shrine.

She'll fail, and rush back to the entrance, but it's a little further than she's gotten, before.
</poem>
[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-07-18: Open Up

2026-07-21T03:23:02Z

Tanyuu: Created page with "*'''Log: Open Up''' *'''Cast:''' Ren Amamiya, Umie Akabane *'''Where:''' Meiji Shrine, Shibuya Ward, Tokyo *'''OOC Date:''' July 18, 2026 *'''IC Date:''' December 11, 2012 *'''Summary''': ''After the events of the Mizunagi's disappearance (and reappearance?), Umie and Joker finally meet back up. While their relationship has resumed its normal course of being allies, some experiences are worth opening up about, especially on the subjects of dealing with what they..."

*'''Log: Open Up'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Ren Amamiya]], [[Umie Akabane]]
*'''Where:''' Meiji Shrine, Shibuya Ward, Tokyo
*'''OOC Date:''' July 18, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 11, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''After the events of the Mizunagi's disappearance (and reappearance?), Umie and Joker finally meet back up. While their relationship has resumed its normal course of being allies, some experiences are worth opening up about, especially on the subjects of dealing with what they both saw. (CW: Indirect references to violent death.)''

----
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
It feels like it's been longer than it actually has since the Mizunagi descended. Ren hasn't talked to Umie since, either as Ren or as Joker--at least, not until earlier today, when Umie contacted them through Joker's old burner phone, which they hadn't yet disposed of. They responded on the new one, letting her know of the change, and agreeing to meet with her at the Meiji Shrine during the Dark Hour.

Morgana wasn't a fan of that part, but still, he agreed to drive them there and play lookout--just in case Shiryuu or Ruin decide to drop in. (Playing lookout from hiding also means the two can test if Ruin really can sense Mona or if he was bullshitting.)

So in the land of twilight, under the moon, Umie will arrive at the Meiji Shrine with no one there, not even coffins. (There are no visitors after dark, and the Shinto priests and priestesses will have already turned in for the night.) Seemingly no one there, at least, for after she's passed through the entrance torii and headed on in a short distance, she'll hear a voice at her back.

"Hail and well met, Umie Akabane."

When she turns and looks up, she'll see Joker seated atop that torii, legs folded and giving her a confident half-smile. "You still live, I see. I'm glad." They hook a boot up underneath them, then leap and twirl to land beside her with cat-like grace. Once they rise, they look with concern at her arm in its sling, then meet her eyes. "I trust you and your companions all made it out of that ship all right?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It definitely *feels* longer, but some of that may have been because of Umie's strictly enforced stay at the hospital.

There had been no further messages to Joker on that burner phone, despite Umie being so very tempted to check in again and make sure Joker was okay.

In the end, she had to just trust that he, being a Phantom Thief, would know how to get out of the sticky situation or two.

Now, with Umie out and the exchange and change of numbers settled, maybe Umie can find out a little more about that night, as well as settle her own worries over Jok--

.... wait, Meiji Shrine?

Umie pauses at her unambiguous, confident reply of 'sure'.

Yes. It'll be fine. She'll have her mask on, so it'll be fine.

=====

'Hail and well met, Umie Akabane.'

The concentrated, almost dour expression that Umie had at the gates is gone by the time she looks over towards that voice; the half mask is on, it being a flimsy yen store excuse for even her usual array of paper maiche designs.

"Glad to see I haven't scared you away, Joker." Umie's reply comes out in that automatic, relaxed way thats surprises her, as she keeps her focus to the present.

The cat-like spectacle earns a twinkle in Umie's eyes and a few careful claps of her hand, as Joker straightens.

".... Ahhh. I'm afraid to report that I'm a ghost now." She wiggles the fingers of her right hand for effect.

Following Joker's gaze to her arm, Umie bows her head slightly, with a small nod. "It's okay. It's just a precaution." And a good one, too, considering how she threw herself into another hassle the other day!

Wiggling the fingers of her left hand where they peek from her sling, Umie continues. "The bigger injury was the bullet wound. Though, I'm much more interested in how *you* did. I admit, I was worried."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
Joker chuckles at Umie's claim of ghosthood. "Truly? Then I must insist you join us, now that you're a real 'phantom.'" They smirk and wink at her, but soon settle into the gravity of concern. She reassures them, and they aren't fully convinced, but they nod anyway.

"Bullet wounds usually are," they say dryly. Still, from what they know of media depictions of bullet wounds, and that's essentially what an injury from a cognitive world weapon is (''is'' Ruin's gun a model in the real world? Joker should find out for sure), if she can move her hand, she should be fine.

"I ended up in there with Ruin. Little more need be said, beyond that his company is insufferable. Still, he didn't choose to attack me. Small blessings," they state. "Then the Ryouharas two also live?"

They pause at their own question. "Though, speaking of such... That man who accompanied Shiryuu Ryouhara, and died at Ruin's hand..." They bow their head slightly. "What was his name?"

If they're going to have nightmares about it--if they're going to pay the proper respects--then it only feels right to know the name of the man who was murdered that night.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Oh stop it," Umie laughs, as Joker winks. "Being a yurei only makes my troublesome nature that much more powerful~"

However, it's time for business. While the bubble of someone she trusts makes her forget, for a sweet second, that this place is ordinary, the overlay of the sacred and the abhorrence of nightmare threatens to intrude again, the longer she draws out the moment.

Still, Joker wouldn't have been the only one who took a look at that sling. A fractured clavicle was common enough in sports, but the a sling drew more attention than the thankfully hidden and mostly healed gunshot wound under her clothing.

It's still a reminder, even so, how how close everyone was to...

"... You sound like you've stared down a few gun barrels yourself." Oh, if Umie only knew. "So you were brought in too. Just with--" Ruin. _Ruin_.

Maybe Joker will appreciate how wide those eyes get, reflecting the glint of the verdant moon despite the paper mask being in the way. "... ... are you sure you're not the ghost here, Joker?" Experimentally, she pokes the finger of her right hand out, attempting to touch a single messy lock sticking out before drawing it back, whether Joker allows for contact or not.

"He must have felt out of his depth too, to go along with it." Small blessings, indeed.

Especially since they both know what Ruin is capable of, and is willing to do.

"Both of them are well. The nurses who had to deal with Shiryuu constantly trying to break out of his room? Not so much." Umie quirks a small, fond smile, at that. "... He deserves it. Ryouhara-kun..."

The information sits at the back of her throat, her lips willing, but her brain suddenly realizing what she'd volunteer, and has already. "He's fine," she says, with a nod. "As best as I can tell."

Still, Joker has every reason to not even care, and yet, he does, even asking about...

"...." Umie quells a shudder, a winter jacket suddenly doesn't feel like enough. That man's name... Her gaze lowers. "... I don't know. But I can ask, and pass it on."

She didn't even ask about it, Umie thinks. Is she that far gone that she'd refuse to know the name of someone who died like that?

".... Was that the first time you've..."

Her hands settle in her pockets, her breath casting clouds upon the air. "If you... don't mind my asking."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
Joker smiles mysteriously and shrugs a bit when Umie speculates on them and gun barrels. They don't precisely ''appreciate'' how wide her eyes get, but they do let her reach out and poke them. Given that they've never tried to remove ''her'' mask, they trust she won't try that on them, and sure enough, she doesn't.

"He enjoyed some of it. Mostly the parts where he got to be... physical," they reply dryly. "Less so when all those machines swarmed us and tried to carry us off." They don't really know why Ruin chose not to engage them in direct violence, but... he ''does'' act differently when the two of them are alone together.

When they have the boldness to reach out and touch him.

Joker isn't ''eager'' to see him again, but they do wonder how far he would let them go--a thought they know is dangerous to entertain, but that they can't just dismiss either. It remains the only thing they know will come close to stopping him.

Umie explains how the Ryouharas are doing. What little she says about Shiryuu ''is'' illuminating, and Joker notes her realizing it and scaling back on the matter of Kurou. They should see him, too... Though as Ren instead. ''If'' he'll see Ren. For now, Joker merely nods.

Umie doesn't know that man's name. They're a little surprised, but only a little. When she starts to ask that question, they shut their eyes and take a deep breath in and out through their nose. Umie has seen someone die before--did it by her own hands, if by accident, if their suspicion is correct. "Yes," they say quietly. "I'm a thief of Treasures, not of lives." They open their eyes to meet her gaze soberly. "Please do," they add, of her asking and passing the name on. "Though not if it will put you in danger."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>
Umie's boldness doesn't extend past a curl, for better or worse; she knows Joker is real. There's just the slight depression of a single strand with a single poke of her index finger, and her inner acknowledgment that he didn't move back.

Indeed, Joker is correct: his mask stays on, just as Umie's own remains.

Joker elaborating on the subject of Ruin cures that shocked look, utter surprise turning to sober understanding. "So you saw those machines too... did you see the forge, at all? We barely managed to get there before the place let us out."

She never considered Ruin's safety. "... Did it let the two of you at Narumi Memeorial Hospital too?"

.... Guilt rises in her chest, a constant spectator that seems to naturally follow the topic of death and near misses.

She glances downwards. "If we weren't on a timer of our own, I would have looked for you. So... I owe you an apology."

There's been many things Umie doesn't realize she wears on her sleeve; a demon audience does not train a person on the art of being subtle, especially on the more altruistic of emotions.

He's a thief of treasures, not lives. "... Spoken like someone who'd reach out to help out an ally in her hour of need," she gently observes, with a small grin.

But the Phantom Thieves still feel, as Joker does, as she sees him breathe and steady himself.

What would have been the sort of person she would have wanted, that day? Or *that* day?

.... No, not just that. She has seen a life dissolve in front of her eyes; perhaps that's why a part of her was callous about even asking a name.

But she's not so far gone, she reminds herself, not to notice what's in front of her.

Umie nods quietly, the action feeling so much louder in the still environment.

"... Do you want to talk about it? About... anything."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
"Yes," Joker replies. "Those machines were trying to drag the two of us to it, I assume to dump us in. However... we managed to escape." They frown. "Something... freed us. I don't know what. Ruin seemed as confused as I was."

Did it let them out at Narumi Memorial Hospital? Joker's eyes widen slightly, and they shake their head. "No. When we escaped, we left through a torii and arrived at Alaya Shrine." They consider Umie for a moment, then add, "And when we arrived, we fell a long ways to a Shinto shrine in moonlight. Where did the three of you enter from? If we never saw each other, we likely fell in at different points."

After all, it was a giant puzzle maze of a dungeon. It seems wholly reasonable to Joker that there's multiple entry points.

They smile slightly at her apology and shake their head. "No need. We each had to trust that the other would be able to handle themselves." They smile, too, at her commentary on reaching out, and shrug again. "You reached out to me, as I recall," they point out, but otherwise don't deny it.

That smile fades, though, when she offers a listening ear. They consider her and bow their head. It... might be good to talk to someone who was there. They don't know how to talk about it, though. They take a moment to sort through it in their head, translate it into how Joker would speak, and then begin to quietly speak.

"I realize it isn't my task to save everyone--especially those who choose to treat with organizations like the New World Order. I expect that man who died has killed others himself; perhaps he was prepared to be killed one day also. My first and foremost priority is to protect the helpless. However... I also can't stand idle when another is in dire need of help."

They lift their head to meet Umie's eyes anew. "The Phantoms don't kill. That's one of our rules. To not kill, and truly mean it, also means to not allow others to be killed in our presence if we can help it."

And... they couldn't help it.

They couldn't do anything to stop Ruin--or Shiryuu, or Kurou, who would have killed Ruin without a second thought had he not had the strength to not only survive but beat them back.

"It... bothers me, that there was nothing I could do."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Those red brown eyes widen again behind the mask, for a brief moment. Ah. Should she tell Joker?

Trick question! She's already talking. "We saw something like a demon or shadow get dragged there and turned into... building material." Her lips fall flat. "... I guess... maybe the place saw you as worthy of letting go? That's what happened to us." Her expression relaxes, as she carefully turns her head, trying to toss a stray strand of blonde hair from over her eyes. "... So Alaya Shrine... maybe there's a connection, but... a hospital and a shrine..."

Where did they enter from? "The side we came in from looked like the Mizunagi. Shiryuu was ready to run in to look for a sick bay for supplies." The strand of hair shifts back over, leading Umie to carefully raise her right arm to tease it back instead. "Thankfully we weren't willing to let him go off and get killed again." She sighs. "... There's a lot of things I don't understand about that space. Did you two see a..." her tongue perches on the words like an awkward bird, unable to find purchase on a steady reed.

There are tons of shrines, like the one they stand in, now, or the one that Joker and Ruin exited through.

"... It doesn't matter. There is another issue: someone's been playing with rumors to connect my family to the Ryouharas, down to the Mizunagi. I can't confirm it since... well, for many reasons. I'm wondering if maybe... something of that... is involved."

"I realize your team is busy, but I'd... appreciate it if some of you can investigate it sometime. If it's a Palace... well." She reflexively nearly shrugs, but stops herself. "It didn't feel like it, however. But if there's Treasure, go for it."

She tries not to think about what she just casually offered.

She doesn't have to, as her focus comes to the state of Joker's own heart-- that is, the feelings he's dealing with, seemingly circling through his head as he falls silent.

"... I did." She offers as a small acknowledgment, and a smile, before doing likewise.

Umie closes her eyes; when she opens then anew, she finds Joker looking at her, his words firm, determined.

It's admirable, to hear Joker reaffirm what he said to her once, now in full. The last few months haven't changed his or the Phantoms' stance.

She is silent, sorting through her thoughts, shifting through her own experiences, even if she can't claim to be as noble.

"... That hurt might never go away, completely." Her words fall soft against the cold grounds, her gaze looking up towards the still sky and its moon.

"... But I think you're doing the right thing. You're choosing to humanize that person, instead of letting them stay anonymous. You've chosen to see the humanity in people who have hurt you and your friends, as well-- both in Shiryuu and Kurou, and in Ruin, even."

Her gaze falls back down towards Joker's own. "Perhaps that's also what it means to be the Phantom Thieves of Hearts."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
Joker listens quietly to Umie as she describes how she and the Ryouharas saw something ''else'' get dropped into the forge, but no attempt made on them. "Hmm. Perhaps," they say of the hypothesis she suggests. The three of them entered from what looked like the Mizunagi... Joker holds a hand to their chin. "Hmm. And the Mizunagi crashed into Narumi Memorial Hospital, did it not? Perhaps that's the connection--ship to hospital, shrine to shrine."

There's a lot about that space they didn't understand either. They frown at her when she starts to ask a question and changes her mind. "Say it," they state, tucking their hands into their pockets. If she really insists it doesn't matter, though, they'll let it go. Instead, they mull on this rumor she mentions. They'll have to ask Hibari if she knows or has heard anything about it.

"It didn't feel like a Palace," they reply, looking back up. "If it is, it behaves unlike any Palace we've ever seen." Granted, they currently have a sample size of four, which is hardly a large pool, but still. "I've already let my compatriots know about it and warned them to be cautious should they explore it themselves, but I have a few more contacts. I'll see if they know anything about that rumor."

They explain their trauma as best they can. Umie is silent for a moment too, and they wait for her. Her response... helps, actually, and they smile again slightly as they tilt their head in acknowledgement. "Thank you. For both your honesty, and your encouragement." They shake their head. "Don't mistake me--I still consider those three our enemies. However, that doesn't mean I want to see any of them die, either."

They know how relieved they'd felt when Shiryuu kicked Ruin in the head and his neck ''hadn't'' been broken. There's really only one reasonable explanation for that, considering what Ruin had just done at that point.

"...What about yourself, Umie Akabane?" they add. "How are you holding up after that experience?"

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "I can't tell if it's the same ship. They're not letting anyone close by it, either; entire wing's cordoned off. Another night or two and I'll have to see if I can slip in during the Dark Hour." She states this with confidence; this involves a goal, after all. "

'Say it.' Umie's lips can't help but slide in an impish, lopsided grin, which melts away as fast as it appears. Just one of the subtle movements, like a snowflake falling against one's outstretched hand in an hour that has none.

"... A red shrine, inside a red room." Her expression grows vague, her lips held back in a frown. "Don't let it see you."

She tries to make the warning feel casual, but there were many things there, some of which only Ruin and Joker experienced. "Is there anything else you remember about the insides?"

At least it isn't a Palace. Umie lets out a long breath. "Honestly, I'm kind of glad. I'm not sure if I want to know who'd be helming one like this."

He's already let them know, and will look into the rumor. "Thank you. There's... a lot of unknowns here." Her lips fall into a thin line. "I..." Why does that feel like such a weight off her chest? It's not going to go away until she faces it herself-- all of it.

"I don't know what I did. I thought I knew how this all worked, but I don't. ... I don't like it. The more I look, the more I don't like it." The hitch in Umie's breath would have been more subtle, save for the white puff of air that highlights each word and hesitation like Morse code.

Despite how it feels, to this close to being honest with how she felt, it feels like letting Joker understand a little more.

And he, also, lets some of what has been on his mind as well.

"Of course. I'm glad I could help, a little. I think it'd be good to open up to your teammates as well. They'll probably have to struggle with the same feelings, sooner or later, if you're all following the same path."

The comment on the three gives Joker a surprised cackle from Umie. "You realize you're just speaking their language, right? Shiryuu probably is pissed he didn't get to fight you directly." She shifts to one foot. "You have my permission, by the way. Beat his ass, and then I'll get to dote and annoy him back to health for being an idiot."

It's affectionate! Really.

The smirk flees as Joker turns the question back to her. She breathes.

"... My hesitation." SHe wets her lips, realizing that fragment won't be enough.

"I chose to stay by you and Ryouhara-kun. WIth Ruin distracted, I could have darted in and took him by surprise. You've seen me do it. But it was... Ruin. I chose the easier route."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
"I see." Joker thinks it would be damned weird if it ''weren't'' the same ship, even if one is just a cognitive version of the other, but they're sure not going to tell Umie ''not'' to make sure. "Be careful. I'm sure the NWO is monitoring during the Dark Hour as well."

Though, silently, they have to wonder how much Umie is still afraid of the NWO at this point.

A red shrine in a red room? Joker looks briefly puzzled before shaking their head. "No, I saw nothing like that. Besides the forge, there was a great and ever-changing puzzle box we had t enter. Inside we found a moonlit shrine in a starless night, a battlefield of abandoned weapons overseen by a great metal guardian, a shadow play of whispering, gossiping women, a series of locked gates... and the recurring presence and laughter of a girl. The Mizunagi apparently 'belongs' to her in some way, so if it ''is'' a Palace, she must be its Ruler."

To say nothing of the beautiful roll of star silk they found in their inventory after escaping--a consolation prize, apparently, after their escape from the forge. It's happened, though usually after a boss fight. Still, Joker doesn't sound like they think it's a Palace. It's its own thing, created, or perhaps summoned, by... whatever Umie and Shiryuu did together, though they're fairly sure they know what. However, then Umie herself says she doesn't know what she did, and they give her a thoughtful frown.

"Whatever it was you did, Shiryuu Ryouhara invoked what felt like the same sort of power. It was, as far as I could tell, the two of you together that called the Mizunagi into being." A beat. "Was that, by chance, the Mark you explained to me before?" It felt so similar to the Old Maid's power, so if it ''is'' the same... that means Shiryuu is also Marked. That might be one explanation for why he's so taken with her, or at least part of it. The seed for his interest, perhaps.

Their dark eyes soften a bit when she suggests they talk to their teammates about what they witnessed. "I mentioned it a bit... but you're right. A passing mention isn't the same as opening up," they admit. That's something they've struggled with for a long time, and they know that seeing Minako continue to keep her secrets made them backslide on that some. It felt like permission to continue to do that themself when the reason they started to try to be more open was keeping up the same behavior that hurt her. That's no reason to shut out their closest friends, though. Some things can stay private, but this isn't a burden they should try to hold all by themself--especially since Umie's right. Sooner or later, it's likely one or several of them will witness similar horrors.

Umie's cackle and her pointing out that those three ''love'' violence gets Joker to heave a dramatic sigh. (Truthfully, they enjoy violence themself too, much like the rest of The Phantoms, as the recent fight against Shadow Kenzo underscored for them. They just don't want to do a violence to actual human beings as opposed to Shadows and Demons--not when it might end up a life-or-death conflict.) "I appreciate that," they say dryly of her permission.

Her hesitation. Joker gives Umie a questioning look, and they don't have to wait long for her to explain. "I see." A beat. "No, that was wise. It's extremely difficult to take Ruin by surprise. I've tried it, with Mona's help. He only pretended to be fooled, and we suffered the consequences when he decided to stop pretending." They shake their head. "I understand, though. It's difficult not to think 'what if?' after such situations."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It *should* be the same ship. Logic would dictate it. ,,, But there have been a lot of things that have failed logic, as of late.

It would be logical for Umie to be a little more afraid of the NWO, for that matter.

.... It also helps to have friends and allies you want to impress by looking fearless in the face of danger. "Ehh." One eyelid closes in a casual wink, her lips quirking in a small smirk. "I may not be a Phantom Thief, but the Dark Hour is *my* time, not theirs."

It is there for them every night: a still beautiful night with no stars.

"... A starless..." A shrine? Gossiping women. A metal guardian over a battlefield of weapons. A laughing girl. Something like fear is allowed to peek through in Umie's eyes, that confidence gone. No, it can't be. How?

However, with it, Joker gives a gift: further information, from what they saw. "... So that's why..." The stain of kegare in the air, the bleeding from his right eye.

And so, Umie gives a small pearl of information back. "He's got a curse of his own, in a way, so you're partially correct." Shiryuu *could* still have the Mark, but this seems to fit. "His right eye is special. I'm not sure on the specifics, but I can tell you that, if that iris changes color, or if it starts to tear up or bleed, you need to watch out."

It was the two of them, together. Umie ponders over this with a frown. "... I.... wasn't thinking of escalating things so quickly in our relationship," she says, with a wry tone. "But I guess summoning demons wasn't going to necessarily help me, either, unless one of them could heal me."

That wry line of a frown turns to a sharpening little grin, that only expands as Joker humors her back.

But there's hesitation, as well. Umie's now serious expression lightens as Joker says it was a wise decision.

"It's also... It's... Ruin," she repeats, only this time, she explains further. "With other agents, it felt like the pushback would be only on me, and... that's okay. But Ruin..."

The name fits, for a reason. "... The more I fight back, the more danger I put my family in," she admits, softly. "We're not on speaking terms, and not all of that was just because of a rocky relationship. But eventually, the Order will call my bluff. In one way, they likely have, if they're the ones behind the rumor." They'd know about the connection between her and Shiryuu and Kurou, after all. Of course, when facing him directly, such considerations fell by the wayside, but Joker likely knows a few people like that, in their life...

"That's why they can never find out who any of you are, because then they'll have that power over all of you too."

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
Joker sees that hint of fear on Umie's face as they describe what they saw in Mizunagi. She definitely knows something. She ought to, if the Mizunagi was created and/or summoned by at least half of her power. However, they choose not to push the matter in the moment. They simply give her a steady, knowing look and let her choose what to say, if anything. Maybe that'll be now; maybe it'll be at some point in the future.

So: not the Mark, but some other sort of curse. Joker ''had'' noticed the mismatch of colors in Shiryuu's eyes before, but hadn't thought anything of it beyond that it was unusual. So his right eye is 'special,' huh... Thinking back, they believe they might have seen that during that battle, but they'd been so caught up with Kurou and Ruin that they couldn't pay much attention to it. "I'll keep that in mind."

God. Shiryuu is ''so'' chuuni they can't even believe it.

As for demons, they could have potentially formed a wall of bodies to slow Ruin down while everyone else got away--but Joker doesn't say that out loud. They don't see a problem with fighting and killing most Shadows or Demons, since to the best of their knowledge they just go back to the Sea of Unconsciousness or whatever Igor called it, but it feels like a step too far to suggest summoning them just to die.

But Umie explains her fear that Ruin, and the recent rumors about 'Unohime' and the connection between the Ryouharas and the Akabanes, sources back to the NWO--and that they might eventually target her family. Joker nods slowly. They're on bad terms with their own family, but that doesn't mean they'd stand by and do nothing if their parents got targeted--especially if it was because of them. They quirk a faint half-smile at her last remark, though.

"Indeed. That's the life of a phantom thief, though," they reply. "Our justice is one that doesn't play nice with the law. Hiding our identities is part and parcel with that."

In that light, it's no wonder negotiations broke down with SEES, a group very much about organization and rules. Oh well. At least they tried. Now the ball is in their court.

"I'll leave it at that for now, then--unless you have anything else you wish to say," they say pointedly as they take a half-step away.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It's like two forces: that need to say more, to include Joker in on what is there, and the need to keep things secret, and let them exist on separate platforms.

To acknowledge those locks, those locked doors, means infecting others with her delusions.

'I mentioned it a bit... but you're right. A passing mention isn't the same as opening up,' Joker had said.

'I'll keep that in mind.' Yes, Joker. Shiryuu is *that* chuuni. But it's part of why Umie finds him so adorable.

... As well as the deep wells of strength, flaws, and complexity Shiryuu shows beneath those quirks.

Every single person, so full of mysteries and locked doors. Things facing outward, like masks, protecting what's inside... Much the ones Joker and Umie wear now.

"Ah, so selfless," Umie murmurs with a mischievous tilt. "It must so difficult, being fashionably mysterious at all times."

But... there was a moment, when that mask (not the literal one) broke. He had called her Akabane-san, even Umie, if maybe just because of that shorter time to speak.

"I think another 'thank you' is in order, don't you think?" Umie says, tilting her chin, as Joker takes a step back. "I'd treat you to a meal, but I'm afraid there's nothing open at this time of night. I suppose... you'll have to do with my gratitude."

But is that all she wishes to say? Her eyes are on the half-step Joker takes.

If there's anything she wishes to say, Joker had said. He's already deduced that she hears something, on account of her Mark, much like how Sudou did.

"... She calls herself Maihime, but... I've always called her Mai-chan. Since I was little."

To say the name is enough of a risk. She have expects something to come running down at them, or some type of punishment she could feel

"... Letting people in on what you're dealing with is hard for you, isn't it?" Letting her gaze rise, Umie offers a skewed grin. "I guess... it's like that for me, too. But it'd be terrible for me to give advice like that... and not take it myself, wouldn't it? To that end, I think it's a good idea, opening up to them. Even if it's hard."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
<poem>
Joker chuckles. "''Ever'' so difficult, alas, but I make do." They regard her as she offers another thank you. "The thought alone is enough for me. You're welcome, Umie Akabane."

It ''is'' different now. The fact that they'd called her Akabane-san, called her Umie, does hint that they way they act here and the way they think inside aren't the same. However, it's as she thinks: masks upon masks. They're back to 'Umie Akabane,' that way of addressing others by their full names.

"..." They're silent when she names the voice inside her head. It's... strange, to think that such a thing ''has'' a name. Stranger still that Umie understands some of what they're going through--though knowing what they do about her, it really shouldn't be.

"It is," they acknowledge quietly. "I thank you for your trust." They turn fully away. "Then may we both follow that sage advice of yours."

In a blur of motion, they leap up, springboard off the torii above, and vanish into the night. A smaller smear of darkness might just leap up out of the woods to join them, but from this distance, it's hard to tell for sure.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> It's perhaps a necessary thing, given what Umie just said. Little rebellious 'runaway' or not, Umie is connected to the Order in a direct way, through Shiryuu and Kurou.

If Ruin had found out, Umie considers, he'd take advantage of that without a second thought.

.... or would he, if he was willing to move through that maze with Joker? Just like when she underestimated Ruin's anger when she taunted him (not her smartest moment, considering she was scared of him before), how much does she really know?

Well, with luck, Umie won't have to ponder any further than she has to, nor will Joker.

"...." A maze of corridors, locked doors, walled off sequences, whispering, gossip, without a single soul in sight.

She could say a million things to try to tailor that possibility of Joker's view of her being blemished, but Umie takes a mental step back and lets the 'detective' do his own assessment.

Isn't it strange, when you find those little similarities?

Or how two words is enough, to acknowledge it, without having to say any more.

There's a relieved grin at Joker's back when they turn. "Good luck."

Ah, that's not a great thing to say, considering Umie's own, but she lets the sentiment behind those words stand.

She does, however, add three more words: "Take care, you."

Watching Joker depart, The blonde waits, a gremlin smile as she sees what she suspects to be a second blur-- always suspect at this hour, but she chooses to believe it to be one thing. "... You too, Mona," she says, mostly to herself.

She takes a breath, letting it flow through her lips as she turns away from the forest and towards the torii gates. Taking a step forward, she walks through it, and towards the massive main shrine.

She'll fail, and rush back to the entrance, but it's a little further than she's gotten, before.
[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

Umie Akabane

2026-07-18T22:15:14Z

Tanyuu:

{| class="toccolours" cellspacing="2" style="width: 15%; float: right; margin-left:2em; margin-right:0em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align: left; font-size: %110"
! colspan="2" align="center" style="background:#a70029; border: 2px #82837C solid; font size: 110%;" | <span style="color:#F3F2D5">'''Umie Akabane'''
|-
! colspan="2" align="center" |[[File:Umieplaceholder.png|300px]]
|-
! colspan="2" align="center" style="background:#a70029; border: 2px #82837C solid; font-size: 110%;" |<span style="color:#F3F2D5">'''IC Information'''</span>
|-
! style="text-align:left" |Full Name:
|Umie Akabane (赤羽烏実枝)
|-
! style="text-align: left;" |Arcana:
|Chariot
|-
! style="text-align:left" |Gender:
|Female
|-
! style="text-align:left" |Age (Birthdate):
|{{ICAge|1992|04|102}} (April 2nd, 1992)
|-
! style="text-align:left" |Hair Colour:
|Brown (dyed Ash Blonde)
|-
! style="text-align:left" |Eye Colour:
|Reddish Brown
|-
! style="text-align:left" |Height:
|5'1" /155 cm
|-
! style="text-align:left" |Residence:
|Shibuya, Tokyo
|-
! style="text-align:left" |Workplace:
|Triple Seven (among others)
|-
! style="text-align:left" |Job:
|Clerk (among others)
|-
! style="text-align:left" |Role:
|Focus
|-
! colspan="2" align="center" style="background:#82837C; border: 2px #a70029 solid; font-size: 110%;" |<span style="color:#F3F2D5">'''OOC Information'''</span>
|-
! style="text-align:left" |Source:
|Persona 2 (OC)
|-
! style="text-align:left" |Groups:
|Adults
|-
! style="text-align:left" |Player:
|[[User:Tanyuu|Tanyuu]]
|-
|}

'''"Looks like you're in for a rough night."'''

Umie Akabane is a seemingly unremarkable person who works various side jobs, a konbini clerk being one of them. A lover of strange snack foods and supernatural gossip, her dry humor disguises many minor mysteries about the young woman. Thumbsleeves in summer, a knack for seeing bad luck on the horizon, and her sudden appearance in Shibuya could make a more curious person wonder where she came from, or if she's connected with a masked girl who pops up from time to time in various supernatural affairs. Then again, aren't there many like that running around nowadays?

==Background==

<poem>Thisisfinedog.gif</poem>

==Persona==
<poem>''“The red-mouthed Badbs will cry around the house,
''For bodies they will be solicitious.”''</poem>

Part of the Morrigan, Badb is the battle crow, a war goddess who uses confusion and fear to turn the battle in her favor. Her appearance before a battle is a bad omen, and she has appeared in the guises of an elderly woman or a washerwoman to foretell a hero's impending death.

== Abilities ==
Umie has nothing to say about the future, but the present (and the past) is another story. Let an unwilling oracle lie to you and look at the shadows the words cast: you might find something you were on the edge of understanding, or be led further astray.
{| class="wikitable" style="width: 40%;"
|+
|'''Given to:'''
|Tsuyoshi & Kyouka Akabane
|-
|'''(IC) Date:'''
|??/??/2003
|-
|'''Contents:'''
| '' A child lies, on the edge of two breaths.''
'' A razor's edge at the sacred junction,''

'' By first snow, the time for change had come and gone.''
|-
|'''Thoughts:'''
|She just wanted them to notice her. At what point did it become <s>more than a game</s>?
|}
{| class="wikitable" {| class="wikitable" style="width: 40%;"
|+
|'''Given to:'''
|Tatsuzou Sudou
|-
|'''(IC) Date:'''
|??/??/2003(?)
|-
|'''Contents:'''
|''??????''
|-
|'''Thoughts:'''
|Why did she let it get this far? Didn't she enjoy the attention she got afterwards? <s>Maybe she deserved what happened next.</s>
|}
{| class="wikitable" {| class="wikitable" style="width: 40%;"
|+
|'''Given to:'''
|Goro Akechi
|-
|'''(IC) Date:'''
|6/22/2012
|-
|'''Contents:'''
|<poem>''A young man in red. Holding a young man with the soft smile.''
''Don't remember. Stop it. Don't remember.''
''In June, the spider lilies bloom blood red in the fields.''
''A man hangs from the branch, caught between decision and action,''
''A blackbird cries in the tree, who hears it?''
''Who is there? Who is it, with that face?''
''Black butterflies fill the school hallways.''
''It is just the beginning.''</poem>
|-
|'''Thoughts:'''
|It was supposed to stop. She's <s>not</s> an oracle.
|}

== Relationships ==
<nowiki/>
{| class="wikitable sortable" style="width: 75%; text-align: center;"
|-
! scope="col" style="background:#a70029; border: 2px #82837C solid; font size: 110%;" | <span style="color:#F3F2D5"> Name
! scope="col" style="background:#a70029; border: 2px #82837C solid; font size: 110%;" | <span style="color:#F3F2D5"> Address
! scope="col" style="background:#a70029; border: 2px #82837C solid; font size: 110%;" | <span style="color:#F3F2D5"> Arcana
! scope="col" style="background:#a70029; border: 2px #82837C solid; font size: 110%;" | <span style="color:#F3F2D5"> Social Link
! scope="col" style="background:#a70029; border: 2px #82837C solid; font size: 110%;" | <span style="color:#F3F2D5"> Info
|-
|[[Ren Amamiya]]
|Amamiya-kun
|0. Fool
|★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''You tried to look out for me that day. Hopefully you'll never get burnt for that kindness.''
|-
|[[Ren Amamiya|Joker]]
|Detective-san
|0. Fool
|★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''Keep it up and I'll call you Joker in no time.''
|-
|[[Tsumugi Kujaku]]
|Kujaku-san
|0. Fool
|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''.... Badb won't be enough to hide me. For the rest, I'll need your skills.''
|-
|[[Makoto Niijima|Queen]]
|Motorcycle-san
|II. High Priestess
|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''I really wish I had that kind of conviction back then...''
|-
|[[Yusuke Kitagawa|Fox]]
|Fox-san
|IV. Emperor
|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|'''''Seriously''', where is everyone getting these masks and outfits??''
|-
| [[Shinjiro Aragaki]]
|Aragaki-kun
|V. Hierophant
|★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''It's supposed to hurt, when you connect to others. But it's worth it.''
|-
|[[Ann Takamaki|Panther]]
|Red-san
|VI. Lovers
|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''It's okay to be a little scared.'' ''I was too.''
|-
|[[Yukari Takeba]]
|Takeba-san
|VI. Lovers
|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''... Did I just endanger a high school student with forbidden knowledge?''
|-
|[[Masao Inaba]]
|Inaba-san
|VII. Chariot
|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''Sorry for dumping info on you like that, but you needed to know.''
|-
|[[Shiryuu Ryouhara]]
|Bridge Ninja-san
|VII. Chariot
|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''Okay, shoge is polished. Can you stop attacking my friends now?''
|-
|[[Goro Akechi]]
|Akechi-san
|VIII. Justice
|★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''I feel sorry for the poor soul you decide to be your rival. Can you at least ask them first?''
|-
|[[Goro Akechi|uh?????]]
|Black Mask Sniper Guy???
|VIII. Justice??
|uh what
|''what in the '''everloving fuck'''''
|-
|[[Katsuya Suou]]
|Katsuya-san
|VIII. Justice
||★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''Sometimes I'm jealous, but it's probably easier to wish you had a sibling than to actually deal with having one.''
|-
|[[Julian Marlowe|Vesper]]
|Vesper-san
|X. Fortune
|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''I'll have you know that trial and error is a perfectly reasonable way to figure things out!''
|-
|[[Shinobu Shimizu]]
|Shimizu-san
|XII. Hanged Man
|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''I think you probably know my name now. It's fine.''
|-
|[[Eikichi Mishina]]
|Mishina-san
|XIII. Death
|★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''He might not know everything that's going on, but he has heart and showmanship. That counts.''
|-
|[[Kurou Ryouhara]]
|Umbrella-kun
|XIII. Death
|★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''Tell your boss to give you a proper umbrella next time!!''
|-
|[[Myunghon Yeo]]
|Merry-san
|XV. Devil
|★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''If there's something out there stalking us, let them watch. We'll give them something to remember.''
|-
|[[Mio Kazama]]
|Nun-san
|XVI. The Tower
|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''what''
|-
|[[Yoko Hirano]]
|Hirano-san??
|XVIII. Moon
|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''uh''
|-
|[[Akari Hoshi|Ixquic]]
|It's... Pick....-san??
|XVIII. Moon
|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''You're really enthusiastic. I feel a little jealous...''
|-
|[[So-young Park]]
|Park-san
|XIX. Sun
|★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''Okay, I definitely like the way you think.''
|-
|[[Tatsuya Sudou]]
|Old Maid-san
|XIX. Sun
|<s>☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆</s>
|''How many lives have you ruined, and how much has it been because of 'Him'?''
|-
|[[Tatsuya Suou]]
|Takkun
|XIX. Sun
|★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''Sorry, but you're going to need my help, whatever it is you're trying to do.''
|-
|}

=== NPC Relationships ===
{| class="wikitable sortable" style="width: 75%; text-align: center;"
|-
! scope="col" style="background:#a70029; border: 2px #82837C solid; font size: 110%;" | <span style="color:#F3F2D5"> Name
! scope="col" style="background:#a70029; border: 2px #82837C solid; font size: 110%;" | <span style="color:#F3F2D5"> Address
! scope="col" style="background:#a70029; border: 2px #82837C solid; font size: 110%;" | <span style="color:#F3F2D5"> Arcana
! scope="col" style="background:#a70029; border: 2px #82837C solid; font size: 110%;" | <span style="color:#F3F2D5"> Social Link
! scope="col" style="background:#a70029; border: 2px #82837C solid; font size: 110%;" | <span style="color:#F3F2D5"> Info
|-
|Tatsuzou Sudou
|Asshole
|IV. Emperor
|<s>☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆</s>
|''You smiled when it happened.''
|-
|Tsuyoshi & Kyouka Akabane
|Dad and Mom
|V. Hierophant
|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''My parents. I'd rather not talk about them.''
|-
|Maihime?
|Mai-chan
|I̷I̶Λ̵X̶˙̶ ̵ɹ̸ɐ̴ʇ̸S̴
|★̷͙͌̀☆̴̦̝̃͊★̷̢͍͑̋★̸̬̿̕☆̴̡̇͝☆̶̢̇★̸̬̿̕☆̶͈̞̋̂★̷̢͍͑̋☆̶̨̓̀☆̴̦̝̃͊
|''Y̶͈͙͗̓̕͜ő̷̗̀̕ͅȕ̴͈͙̮͊͑'̷̤̿͑̊v̷̰̞͉̽ę̷̉ ̷̨͇̺̕b̴̢̤͇̈e̶̯͆̎͝ë̵̠́̆n̷̞̆̚ ̷̢͖͇̇̔͝m̷̬̱̜͂ȏ̶̙̟̦r̶̉̎͜e̶͛ͅ ̸̧̒c̸̬̏h̷͖͈͑a̸̞̻̅̿t̵̬̣̋͋͗t̶̡̘͑̓̿y̵̥͑̌̾ ̸͔̳̘̅͒ḽ̴̟͖͑̀͘ȁ̶͎̭̏̓t̴̯̉͐̓e̸̫͙̫͊̇̈́l̴͓̔̑̅y̸̛̘̤͘.̸̡̣̟̏̽͝''
|-
|Mothman
|Taro-kun
|XVIII. Moon
|★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''I still miss him.''
|-
|Toki Murasaki
|Toki-chan
|XVIII. Moon
|★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
|''Senpai, how are you the one with the business degree?''
|-
|Syuusei Honjou
|.....
|XIX. Sun
|<s>☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆</s>
|''Your princess is in another castle. Stop messing with my life.''
|-
|}

== Soundtrack ==
Powerless Sounds - [https://youtu.be/erYx7UmBMSU?si=kV3lw48EiKTmmsre Oblivion] '''Keep Moving'''

Giga - [https://youtu.be/6JEdJWwcIyk?si=UlZko-jExxQ6fp3D Play] '''<nowiki/>'Mai-chan''''

Teddyloid - [https://youtu.be/uDSTfUcz1Fw?si=HMVZJIY1QR8xr3A0 Desperate] '''Strategy'''

Ado - [https://youtu.be/9dKZeL2UbUM?si=gkV1_VGrxlgAOvGS Episode X] '''Failure is Not an Option'''

Zutomayo - [https://youtu.be/Atvsg_zogxo?si=w3xkP2dnJ_ZcCAQ0 Study Me] '''Figure Me Out'''

Giga - [https://youtu.be/UhH7D7ue4Fc?si=xbdMbMJBAfO3VpNR Beyond the Way] '''Find A Way'''

Minami - [https://youtu.be/WpRcRYoHqxE?si=c6zeqNG5TurKm7lG Drop] '''Disillusion'''

Poe - '''[https://youtu.be/iy9KpprZRJA?si=RhioILKU3_wHP_8P Control]'''

Joanna Jones - '''[https://youtu.be/W1YrGOIQBRc?si=wEcsTGeUaoxg-rdp Trouble Ahead]'''

Riko Azuna - [https://youtu.be/iBYQYf7CjmQ?si=OrJVrljy6FH3knfl White Out] '''Mirror'''

Ado - [https://youtu.be/oxt9wBzxhK4?si=zOlyTCRoWoQwfyin I'm a Controversy] '''Obligatory Gag Track'''

= Logs and Cutscenes =

==Season 1==

===Logs===
<div style="column-count: 3;">
{{#dpl:
|category = logs&season 1
|linksto = {{PAGENAME}}
|ordermethod = title
|columns = 3
|rowcolformat=width=50%
|suppresserrors = yes
| addcategories = true
| mode = userformat
| format = ,,\n* [[%PAGE%]],
|noresultsheader=There are no logs on this wiki that {{PAGENAME}} participated in.
}}
</div>

===Cutscenes===
<div style="column-count: 3;">
{{#dpl:
|category = cutscenes&season 1
|linksto = {{PAGENAME}}
|ordermethod = title
|columns = 3
|rowcolformat=width=50%
|suppresserrors = yes
| addcategories = true
| mode = userformat
| format = ,,\n* [[%PAGE%]],
|noresultsheader=There are no cutscenes on this wiki that {{PAGENAME}} participated in.
}}
</div>

[[Category:Characters]]
[[Category:Focus]]
[[Category:Cardboard Dragon]]

2026-07-10: A Memorial of Mistakes

2026-07-13T22:48:28Z

Tanyuu:

*'''Log: A Memorial of Mistakes'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Shiryuu Ryouhara]], [[Umie Akabane]], [[Kurou Ryouhara]]
*'''Where:''' A Strange Place
*'''OOC Date:''' July 10, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 07, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''Right after the [https://www.velvetroom.wiki/index.php/2026-07-09:_Zenkokourou the fight in Sumaru Bay], Shiryuu, Kurou, and Umie find themselves in a strange place that none of them are familiar with. However, the same cannot be said of the place itself, which is very familiar with them. However, with all of them as injured as they are, they have to keep moving, or disappear forever.''
*'''CW''': Trauma Responses
----
(|================ Monad - The Inscrutable Region: Mizunagi ================|)
-==== Round 1: side.SOL .. intro 0 .. TURNTABLE SATURN: "the gate" - Challenge Level 1 -
| Approach Options: Proficiency or Academics |
| Conditions: Clumsy - Proficiency Down L1 and Stupor - Academics Down L1 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

Tumbling through the void, you fell through at least ten gates, all
stacked at physically impossible angles. It felt like forever before you
landed here, in the center of a vast, flooded cavern cut into the abominable
stone.

The vagarious iridescence of reflections from the water seethes across the
cavern walls, glittering like waterborne gems that may or may not actually
be present in the dancing floodwaters. Though the water is deep enough that
you can't see the bottom, you may still stand easily on its surface, as
solid as glass, only the lightest ripple indicating your passing.

A torii gate stands on the water behind you, a dark, impossible mirror to
the space above, crimson red with pitch-black ofuda hanging forlornly from
its posts. Ahead lay a crippled, sunken ship, lopsided and run aground,
buried in a rocky shore that looks like the outer facade of a building,
tilted to a bizarre, mad slant.

The ship is silent, bitter and lonesome. All rotting steel and overgrown
with green vines, it's lit solely from a single consecrate beam of bright
light from far above. The dilapidated ship lists dangerously, hull sitting
at almost a forty five degree angle above the floodline, the fore and bridge
decks of the vessel unreachably high towards the top of the cavern, with the
aft section melding into the rock face.

A small, shattered helicopter is crumpled like paper, rotors snapped off
and bent around it. It's all but wrapped around a shattered helipad that
used to be attached to the ship, itself now forming a loose bridge that
cants towards the cargo area, allowing entry to the ship. But one method of
entering the ship itself is a keypad outside of the aft cargo hold,
flickering with barely-functional illumination.

Instead of a numerical code, the door is secured by a password system, and
the door to the hold is secured with what appears to be ancient clockwork
gears instead of any actual modern latching system. The password doesn't
seem to be anything basic, and changes on the day and the whim of the
blasphemous world. Only a passing knowledge of the ship itself -- or a
willingness to get physical with the interlock -- will gain entry to the
ship's interior spaces.

(OOC NOTE: Passages in red text will appear in some rooms. These represent
omnipresent thoughts or feelings that can be detected by those open to it.)

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

....and slowly, the vertiginous sense of being flipped end over end over end and being thrown entirely through a building fades to a harsh, piercing, subluminal whistle, reminding his senses it's time to be alive.

In one moment, Shiryuu was watching it go all very, very wrong. Akabane was crumpled and bleeding, and Kurou was running towards them just as something he couldn't identify was piercing into every nerve he had.

It would have been easy to think, instinctively, that that was how people with that Mark died -- stolen into something indefatigibly black and vacuous in the sky. He could be forgiven for making that assumption, to try his 'eye' again and again to try and steal them away. Each time, doubt was an acid at the back of his spine. Kurou was too far, Umie too far gone, his strength not enough by a sight.

But as the night grew closer, a very young 'fear' replaced it, and he could be forgiven for that in the moment.

But he won't be, he'll see to it.

The water trickles a muted trail of crimson from his eye as the elder Ryouhara stirs, face half submerged. The cool kiss of water breaks as he awakens, mouth breaking open in a short, sharp gasp as he sits up with a start, disoriented and at the wreckage of what he assumes is "Ruin"'s work, the sinking of the ship entirely, and they must have washed ashore.

But it doesn't look like any shore they've been on, and Shiryuu looks up at the light, dum and dumb. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he instinctively recognizes the familiar silhouette of Ryouhara artifice at the lower decks of the wreckage that was not there before, of weapons so far up they might as well have been on a mountain. Instinctively, some part of him recognizes this before he is fully conscious and aware of what it means.

"...ah..."

It is also not the part of him that takes alarm when his first conscious thought lands. "!"

"Kurou -- Umie!?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Loneliness was something that tied Umie to many people. It binded her to people, made her invest in their lives, made her feel loss when she inevitably had to draw the curtain back, creating a distance her and someone else.

Over and over, neverending. If it wasn't due to having to hide her late night excursions, the bruises and scratches, or the green hour she was attracted to like a moth to a flame, it was the girl in her mind's eye, like a jealous old friend with a face that became less and less similar to Umie's own, as she grew up.

It is loneliness that made a peculiar trait of this place. It is silent. No demons or shadows inhabit it, though with how newborn this space is, it is bound to be infiltrated at some point, later on.

(Those beings will just find themselves the unfortunate casualties of a space that is hostile to anything that comes in from outside, much like the people it was born from, but that is for the future to reveal. Perhaps, that is also why they don't hear Joker and Ruin, whereever they are?)

"... ngh...."

Her chest hurts. Her right hand hurts as well, though that's mostly due to Ruin smacking it in the earlier stages of their fight.

She smells... kegare, coming from somewhere. Her hand goes to her chest, and comes away with blood.

Ah. That's a problem, isn't it?

Her brain begins to collect backwards the 'now', remembering shocked faces, yells, names being shouted.

Shiryuu. Kurou. Joker.

A goal is verified in her mind, and Umie sits up, a mechanical, practical frame of mind kicking into gear.

It's the same as any Dark Hour, after all: you must survive. Before you can search, the bleeding must be stopped. Sweat itches at the corners of her mask as Umie pads down her jacket, grabbing whatever could be used to staunch the bleeding: a roll of bandages will work, yes, but what about the others? They all have to make it, too.

A quick glance upwards as she loses sight of her goal in the face of the massive ship. "...."

Don't think about it. Just keep going.

She tries to shout, but her voice cracks, her expanding ribcage just making the gunshot wound shoot right back up to priority one.

Some wads of clean tissue are pressed to the wound, Umie wincing and curling in on herself before continuing on.

She hears someone calling her and Kurou's name, but the rattle in her voice makes it hard to call back. At least it's easy to see her, out in the open, like this.

Surrounded in a thinning veil of faint red.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
It is through Joker's quick thinking and action that allows Kurou to -- miraculously -- land on his feet.

Even in a space such a this, where every angle is wrong and glittering illusions taunt from thick darkness, and where a ship broken and half reclaimed by life and death alike. It's just that 'landing on his feet' means very little if it's into water.

He will be wet, and wet is near certain death. The chill of clothes sticking to skin. The restriction of movement. The threat of sound a single droplet of water can make. It is a terrifying suggestion the mind offers to stay in the water, hold his breath, and ''pray'' is the better plan.

Kurou's fingers curl in, and do not sift through water density. They run across a hard, glassy surface. He is not ''in'', but ''upon''. And, somehow, ''has'' landed on his feet, should a crouch count as such.

When he tries to speak, his voice is steady, but so very small. He is not sure why he thinks anyone would hear that. His instincts have him speaking as if he must not be heard at all.

It takes a moment to realize it, in mind as well as body, for it's the body that is always loudest: this is not before. This is a time after Gashadokuro's hunger. This is a time when --

He must find them.

Kurou rises to his feet, combing back his sweat and sea salt sticky bangs back with his fingers. "Akabane-san." His voice is still soft, but carries across the void this time. He sees her, wandering out there, he hears Shiryuu, calling for them both. He tries to set his hand to her, to steady here. "Rest," he demands.

"We're here," he calls to Shiryuu.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

The skull-splitting whistle is one that only Shiryuu can hear, and the splitting headache matches his looks -- a wet, stringy, soaked mess, far and away from the perfect onmitsu that he projects. His left eye is stuck shut -- it still burns, and Shiryuu is no longer convinced the wet feeling on his face is water.

His sword is on the ship he dimly realizes, finally. If Ruin returns -- and based on his voice, he will -- he won't even be able to conjure Sarutahiko. He doesn't even know how long it's been, or how much of a head start he has.

Problems for later.

The boy runs. Hearing Kurou's voice draws his attention away from the ship, away from his instinct to try and figure out where they were last, finally focusing on the water around him.

Suppressing every fibre of what he 'wants,' the boy's tired relief is still obvious when he approaches them. She's still alive. So is he, but...

There's so much blood everywhere.

Ryouhara's lips tighten. Put the thought aside. One step in front of the other.

"Don't stand," he tells Umie, instead of literally anything else.
"Make sure," he tells Kurou, instead of literally anything else.

Take care of yourselves, is the shihaisha's order. There's no time. No time to think about it anymore. "The ship's ... been moved," he says, looking back towards it. Why is the world backwards now? He doesn't understand what's going on, but...

"... There'll be a sickbay."

The shihaisha breathes out, sharply focused, one eye forward and staring at the ship.

"I'm going to go back in and find it. I'll bring back supplies. If I run across 'that man,' I'll put a stop to him. ... I'll save Joker, too."

The grey headed boy breathes again. The kegare level of his ninkou is shrieking in his head, and the wet, bloodstained hand he rams through his hair does absolutely nothing for it.

"...If I don't come back, try to trigger an explosion to summon the clan. The last shipment was laced with explosives. We should be close to a hospital," he thinks, though he has absolutely no apparent reason to say or believe the latter.

"Don't follow me."

The boy's already jumped off, trying to make his way towards what's left of the helipad.
</poem>

MONAD: Shiryuu Ryouhara has acted with Proficiency toward side.SOL .. intro 0 .. TURNTABLE SATURN: "the gate"! Base!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie looks at Kurou, and comfort swims on her face. A shuddering sob contorts into a laugh, exhaustion blending into happiness as she realizes she's not alone.

"Kurou," she croaks, bypassing politeness for the sake of having as few syllables as possible. It's also because it's Kurou, and Umie trusts that he'd understand.

Thirdly, because it needs to be highlighted twice, it's Kurou.

"... Guess I lived," she smirks, a twinkle in her eyes, as she carefully, sits, then lays down, her breathing settling.

But only for a moment.

"Owowow," she says, a split nanosecond later, as she shifts, purely for the selfish reason of seeing Shiryuu's face.

The happiness she feels at Shiryuu being alive is shot through (pun intended) by the blood there in his eye, and the unsettling presence of something wafting from him.

"... Kegare...?" she murmurs aloud, confused. "Why's your eye..."

His first command as shihaisha is for her to not stand, and for Kurou to make sure she doesn't, because he knows Umie well enough.

And Shiryuu is exactly right.

'If I run across 'that man,' I'll put a stop to him. ... I'll save Joker, too.'

Umie groans as she gets up. "Nope. No. Not doing that alone. Could be agents in there. Still have Badb, and still have my weapon."

".... Also... I was the one who asked Joker to help me. The Phantom Thieves need him back." She needs Joker alive, as well. No longer because of what he represented, or some small part of her that had a crush on him, but because she considers him someone she wants to call a friend.

Also, on a more direct note...

".... I don't want to lose you." It sits at the center of everything, the reason behind so much of what Umie did, and is doing now.

Shiryuu's plan is sound- logical, even. But Umie knows Shiryuu well enough in the ways he's very much like her, and that way is how either of them would handle a situation like this.

They'd try to control the situation.

"... Kurou is here with me. We'll protect each other. We'll do this as a team. Okay?"

And she'll make that plan manifest, with the stubborness that has likely tested Shiryuu's patience many times, if not won his affection. She'll need help, of course, but using the Badb, she's able to recongize one thing.

"..... No demons, or shadows. No one with a detectable Resonance either," she says, her voice a whisper. "But Joker and Ruin are able to bypass Badb's sight anyway. So would any agents lacking Personas."
</poem>

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Bird's Eye View toward side.SOL .. intro 0 .. TURNTABLE SATURN: "the gate"! Automap!

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
The battle was as brutal as it was fierce. Kurou is trying to assess the damage now. Umie is the worst off, but Kurou fears he makes that judgment too soon. In the battle with Hodai, Shiryuu had tried to obscure an entire wound across his torso. There is so much blood, and so much wet, that everything melds together in uncertainty.

Much like this place.

Kurou has blade marks across his back, and the brutal hit that sent him flying. The impact throbs, and must have left a mark. But as long as Gashadokuro hungers, Kurou stands.

Right now, he stands with Umie. Her sob turns into a laugh, and his grip on her tightens to hear his name. There is an Umie here, where there almost was no more Umie at all.

With her pain, he relaxes, and then he moves, to let her see Shiryuu easier.

"I can stitch the wound if we find one," he promises of the sickbay. But --

''We'', he says, because he does not yet realize Shiryuu only means he himself will be finding it. ''Don't follow.'' Usually, the sihaisha orders bring a calm and clarity to everything. There is certainty in the path. But now the line has never been clearer: there is the sihaisha's order... and then there is loyalty.

He already knows that Umie will disobey, and he does not try to stop her. Instead, he is right with her, offering his shoulder if she needs the support. It is making sure she does not stand if she is given the means to ''lean''.

But unlike Umie, he does not know what words to say, only that tangled knot of feelings that cannot decide if it should explode or wither at the thought of Shiryuu's disappearing form their sight, fighting alone again to try and protect them.

So, instead, all he adds is:

"... Please."

They need to keep going, and he can, at least, help Umie do it with minimal aggravation to her wounds.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Without a Trace toward side.SOL .. intro 0 .. TURNTABLE SATURN: "the gate"!
Diligence and Patra!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== side.SOL .. intro 0 .. TURNTABLE SATURN: "the gate" - Round 1 =========-
Umie Akabane Academics Success
Bird's Eye View Automap Fatigue: 0 Morale: 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shiryuu Ryouhara Proficiency Success
Proficiency Base Fatigue: 0 Morale: 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Proficiency Success
Without a Trace Diligence and Patra Fatigue: 0 Morale: 1
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Clumsy-2 and Stupor-2
Final Conditions: Stupor-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 1/6 |= | ===================================================-
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

MONAD: Umie Akabane has drawn a new Challenge!

(|================ Monad - The Inscrutable Region: Mizunagi ================|)
-==== Round 2: side.SOL .. track X .. JUPITER RECORD: "Unrealized" - Challenge Level 2 -
| Approach Options: Understanding or Charm |
| Conditions: Bothersome - Charm Down L1, Hard - Understanding Down L1, and |
| Stupor - Academics Down L1 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The flooded spaces in the ship's corridors apparently drain through this
chamber, an idyllic water garden running through the ship's cargo areas.
Despite the ostensibly utilitarian space, beyond the ship's bulkheads and
partitions lays a spread of basins, water tables and fountains, all draining
into one another and filling the room with the omnipresent sound of
trickling water, and the distant, serene clack of noise-maker sozu bamboo
pipes.

While the footpath is both overlooked and overlooks multiple basins, the
vast below drops off into lush forever, brush and greenery swallowing up
lower basins and water tables in a nonsensical drop further down the
suggestions of an artificial mountainside. Most of the flowers this high up
are types of waterborne lotus, all serene and white, however many of these
flowers are toxic to the touch, paralyzing whosoever tries to touch them.

He doesn't wear armor, not like the others. He is a boy cut from
refracting, shimmering light, an apparition standing on the other side of a
compound lens folding out of the floor. The complex assortment of lenses,
rocker arms and focusing arrays channels a single lonely beam of moonlight
from above to project the boy at play, a boy in a lavishly patterned kimono
and a white lightning bolt shot through his shock of black hair. A sword,
far too large for the boy, is tucked in a sheath at his back. The mechanical
lenses portray him in shimmering, liquid relief, as if on the outer edge of
an event horizon. He bounces a colorful ball -- the only thing real -- on
the ground, focusing on the play.

Every so often he looks up, as if searching for someone to play with. Every
time he looks up, he finds no one in the lonely garden. Ignoring you at
first, the boy sighs, and continues.

At even junctures, the footpath shifts, the apparition shimmering. Folding
into the floor, the entire apparatus disappears only to unfurl somewhere
else, projecting the shimmering boy and his lonely game somewhere else. The
ball bounces from place to place, following his path and play.

Slowly but surely, he'll find his way to a gravestone at the center of the
garden. On it is written a name: 'ISATO.'

A dangerous place, a lonely game. The boy will only be here for a short
time until he is gone, disappearing at the grave. Though the boy does not
speak but for the click of the complex machinery around him, understanding
why he is here or getting his attention off of his doomed dream may prompt
him to point you to the way out of the chamber.

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

There is nothing left of the panicked boy from however long ago, tied up and replaced entirely by the sleek, grim, imperious countenance of Shiryuu Ryouhara of Akita. No matter how miserable his state, no matter what situation he finds himself in, the boy replaces doubt with his will.

A will that he finds the others in full defiance of.

"Umie... Kurou..." No one listens to him. Shiryuu's mouth tightens as Umie stands -immediately- after his order not to, and the look he gives her is far more intimate and grudging than he'd give anyone else.

She is alive, he realizes, alive enough to point out he's unarmed. Ironic. There is a small -- not really small, he notices in a forcibly detached way -- urge to tear her dumb mask off and kiss her stupid face.

The boy sighs, sword long as he distinctly plucks his sole functioning eye from Umie and turns towards his subordinate. 'I can stitch the wound...' "... is that right," he asks the younger, appraising him for injuries of his own. The invisible blow that sent the smaller shinobi flying off course is still a matter of concern, Shiryuu recognizes, with bitter memory. He could have internal injuries, though he's familiar with the power of the youth's Persona. How long will that hold out?

'Why's your eye...' "...that's not important right now," Shiryuu replies firmly, attempting to gain a handle on the scenario and stifle the fomenting rebellion.

'...I don't want to lose you,' '...please.'

Shiryuu's eye narrows.

".... what is even with you guys..."

Shiryuu absolutely doesn't consent, but he turns back away, folding his arms in abject annoyance. "We had our spies get security codes to the ship beforehand as a matter of precaution. From here, the lock is..." he pauses, "different," deciding, "but it should still work." He gives another sharp look at stupid-face Umie as she gives her own assessment of the matter.

"They won't escape these hands, either," Ryouhara grouses, leaping ahead.

****

However, the first thing Shiryuu realizes is that literally nothing in the ship conforms to their intelligence anymore, and the flooded corridors are far too long and twisting to even fill the logical space of the ship. And the worst part about everything is, it gets uncomfortably familiar uncomfortably fast.

The chamber they arrive at is not the cargo bay, not anything like it, opening into.. the outside? "... iih?" No.. it's more than that, isn't it?

He knows the mechanisms that unfold from the floor, though their armatures work in unknowable, indiscernible ways to channel moonlight into a ... "...Supralunar imagery?" he wonders aloud, as a ghost literally appears in their mist.

For all of his bravado, Shiryuu very plainly has no idea what he's looking at. Which means that he is also late to notice the very important parts of what he does know.
</poem>

MONAD: Shiryuu Ryouhara has acted with Understanding toward side.SOL .. track X .. JUPITER RECORD: "Unrealized"! Base!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> If only Shiryuu knew.

It's probably Kurou being there, as well as the unknown status of where Joker is, that keeps Umie from kissing Shiryuu right then and there.

That, and the fact that she's currently needing to depend on Kurou to really move.

Hodai and Ruin's mention of Umie using Kurou as a 'pet' and 'boy toy' continually cycle in her mind every time she lets herself lean or use Kurou's offer of help. However, there's not much that could be done for it; she *has* to use Kurou to steady herself, and thankfully, Kurou's slightly taller height makes it easier for him to do so.

".... When we get to the sickbay, we'll patch you up too, Kurou," Umie says, feeling guilty that she used what she had on herself as it was, with only some leftovers for Kurou or Shiryuu by the time both found her. Her insistence, at least, allowed part of Kurou's feelings to be expressed at the very least; she wasn't raised in the same environment as he or Shiryuu, and doesn't carry the same complusions to display that lawful sort of loyalty.

Umie's loyalties are bought through action and whim alone.

Though, wasn't that what underlies Kurou's, as well?

"... There's a lot of water damage," she whispers, leaning against Kurou as they walk. Her kintsugi mask, she slowly realizes, is likewise damaged, having sustained damage during the fight, and had liquid seep in through the cracks of the sealant, as well as the weak points where the gold leaf was applied. She debates removing it, but her hand quivers as it nears the paper maiche edge. "..."

She can't be seen, even if she's among people she trusts with her life, and even though her name's been said many times.

Nothing's making sense here; she needs all the armor she can get her hands on.

*****

Umie's eyes widen slightly.

"... He's alone."

It's an illusion, but the blood loss and injury have made her a little more direct with her emotions, for better or worse.

And of course, her heart would be the one to break seeing a child playing alone.

Logic reasserts itself, and Umie looks around. "This..." The foliage, the apparatuses, the machinery... "What is this?"

Keep it together, Umie. "... What did I do...?"

</poem>
MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Understanding toward side.SOL .. track X .. JUPITER RECORD: "Unrealized"! Base!

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
It will hold out until the power of Persona cannot be called, and only then will anyone learn whether or not Kurou is in a state to crumble like a pile of bones at dawn.

But Kurou has his own resolve he paints over his fears. If Shiryuu can take any comfort in the way Kurou looks back at him with his loyal but unwavering disobedience, it is that almost certainly Umie Akabane can be held responsible for this show of willfulness.

He may have been called a pet or even a toy, but the attempts to insult never landed on Kurou himself. Perhaps because he never thought of himself better than that...

"Triage," he says to Umie, and there is a willfulness in this reminder, too.

... Or is it because... when he thinks something is that incorrect, he doesn't really dwell on it.

But what is with them? Kurou does not know how to answer that. It is not how he should be behaving. Yet, just a moment ago, it was all almost empty again... Now it's together, even if he has to hold it himself to keep it that way.

The architecture continues to make little sense. Kurou tenses briefly, surveying the garden with a lingering gaze suggesting far more confusion than even its chaotic nature warrants. He looks down at the flowers.

"... Ah. Mother would ask me to fetch these, sometimes..."

Then, for Umie's benefit:

"Do not touch them. They're poison."

A boy bounces a ball alone in the deadly garden. Silent as the ghostly child, Kurou watches the pattern of play. "Umie. Please rest," he asks her, gently helping her settle if she'll allow it.

Then he waits for the moment when chasing after the toy takes so long it begins to drain the momentum, and then he makes his strike...

... knocking it back toward the child. And if it should bounce again, Kurou moves to respond, weaving through toxic flowers, over basins, and balanced along mountainsides. It is a dangerous game.

But Kurou still plays it like a game.

Is it even for the sake of finding their way through, or does he simply not want to leave this ghost to his lonesome, with the familiarity of the location?

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Shut Up and Nod toward side.SOL .. track X .. JUPITER RECORD: "Unrealized"! Amrita!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== side.SOL .. track X .. JUPITER RECORD: "Unrealized" - Round 2 =========-
Umie Akabane Understanding Failure
Understanding Base Fatigue: 1 Morale: 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shiryuu Ryouhara Understanding Success
Understanding Base Fatigue: 0 Morale: 2
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Understanding Failure
Shut Up and Nod Amrita Fatigue: 1 Morale: 1
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Bothersome-2, Hard-2, and Stupor-1
Final Conditions: Bothersome-1 and Hard-1
-================================================= Party Result: Failure ====-
-==== Reach: 1/6 |= | ===================================================-
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

MONAD: Shiryuu Ryouhara has drawn a new Challenge!

(|================ Monad - The Inscrutable Region: Mizunagi ================|)
-==== Round 3: side::LUNA > The Moon; Pisces > MOON GAZING - Challenge Level 3 -
| Approach Options: Charm or Guts |
| Conditions: Bless - +1 to Group Roll (Per Character), Bothersome - Charm |
| Down L1, Hard - Understanding Down L1, Mindnumbing - Academics Down L2, |
| Reaper - Add 1 Fatigue., and Terrifying - Guts Down L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

You enter into a square engawa (or veranda) surrounding a tsubo-niwa: a
small enclosed Japanese garden. A small pond, outlined in stone, is situated
next to a Japanese maple with delicate red five-pointed leaves. Curated
patterns are drawn into the gravel, adding order between limestone rocks
covered in moss. Past the roof's overhang, you can see a brilliant view of a
bright jade moon, coating the meticulously tailored space in a familiar
verdant glow.

It's always there for you, every night: a still, beautiful world with no
stars.

(BGM: https://youtu.be/-7e-MKch5ZY Yasuharu Takanashi - "Osoroshige")

As leaves shiver in a laughing wind, a leaf falls onto the pond's surface.
Soft, echoing footsteps run past the edge of your vision. You may hear
purred whispers, letting you know that no one knows you better, that no one
else could possibly understand what it's like. All except her. She's always
been there for you.

There is an absence in the corner of your vision: a crawling shadow where
you expect something to be. It has your hair, your face, your eyes, your
body. No one else can see it.
It is a creature of contradiction. It is not you.

Remain firm in your sense of self. Support those in your party who falter.
This night will end, just like the others, and you will be able to continue
on.

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> If the first signal that something was wrong was the ship's garden, surrounded by poisonous flowers, the second will be the shift in spaces to what would be considered a traditional Japanese manor, with a sliding door to pass into the a space seemingly forgotten by time.

You could even think this was a place to rest, given the environment's intended purpose: a carefully curated patch of nature, squared off from the rest of the world, with a square portrait of the sky drawn past the overhang of the roof. There is plenty of space to sit and rest, maybe even find some time to apply healing to those wounds.

It's an illusion, as fake as the garden here, and the starless night above.

The whisper in your ear disagrees.

It'll be there, in the corner of one's eye: a thing that is not you, shaped like you, maybe even more perfect that the you you are now. Maybe it crawls, maybe it walks on tip-toe, maybe it presents itself in a straightforward manner, as casual as a street encounter.

It shouldn't be there.

'You showed your Mark to both Joker-san and Shiryuu-kun in order to get close to them, didn't you? You wanted to be accepted, so you forced the issue.'

And Umie is no exception to that, though her being the source further compliments its power over her.

'That's the problem, right there. Neither of them can understand, Umie-chan. Not even sweet Kurou-kun.'

"....." It's not quite Mai-chan; this has her face, rather than the mocking monument to the person she was. It hurts, all the more.

'But me? You've known from the beginning who your heart belongs to.'

".... This is an illusion," Umie begins, in a mutter, raising her voice to the point of a painful crack. It comes from experience, having to constantly second-guess herself.

Badb's senses detect no shadow or demon, and that holds constant here as well.

".... Whatever you see... it's not real."

One hand clutches Kurou, reaffirming her grip and the trust held within, while the other will reach for Shiryuu, if he's close, attempting to interweave her fingers in his.

"... _No matter what it tells you_."

The Badb's wings spread out overhead in a flood of blue light, casting a shattering shriek over the intimate space.

But maybe it was just so she didn't have to hear it, anymore.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

In the end, it's only when the young man's fingertips grace along the cold surface of a gravestone that he realizes what exactly he's seeing, the thing at the back of his mind the whole time.

Others intuit more than he -- Kurou is smarter; knows to share what he already knows. Umie is kinder -- she feels the child's obvious, plain loneliness, where Shiryuu sees only struts and magnifying lenses, feels only a miserable pit in his stomach.

But Shiryuu actually knows the child's name and why he is here, and it only occurs to him to give it voice when he touches that gravestone.

Umie's voice strikes the last chord in him, her broken heart moving the otherwise paralyzed shinobi to speak.

"....his name was Isato," Shiryuu says quietly, staying with Umie when Kurou steps away, numbly falling into place as if by pure instinct.

The ball bounces between Kurou and Isato, the ghost watching him with illusive eyes, the paraselene watching the shinobi curiously as he effortlessly weaves between the toxic flowers to return that ball to him. One could even say that the boy is soothed by his presence.

But he never smiles, does he?

... truthfully, Shiryuu hasn't spoken since the boy cut from moonlight, a silent, hyperaware vigil of a space that's so clearly bent, the ship that he knew crumpled up and flooded like a tin can clutched in a fist. His haori is still soaking wet and by all means and rights, he should have abandoned it ages ago. But the symbol of 'Ryouhara' is something the boy seems attached to wearing like a flag in the night, no matter how he wanders the halls. He entrusts Umie to Kurou and does his best to take point -- he is, if nothing, seemingly in solid condition.

Ryouhara's discipline is top-notch, and any vagary in his sense of balance is accounted for ruthlessly, the boy's stride cautious and doggedly persistent. It helps that these ... spaces they're making their way through are at the least idyllic, perfect and peaceful displays of architecture, no matter how familiar they may be.

Enough so that it's deeply alarming when Shiryuu finally runs across a space that doesn't seem connected to anything he knows. The boy stops short in his stride, finally and deeply disoriented. He looks up. Around. And along.

'What's the matter?' he asks himself.

How do you intend to get out of here? You don't recognize anything anymore. You might have cheated the first few times, but now your luck's run out... naa? Even worse yet... you've led everyone in after you. It would have been fine... if it were just you, right?

After all. You're *strong* ... naa?

No...? Maybe not. It'd be better, it'd be easier if you were. You wouldn't get everyone killed. It'd be easier if you were 'someone.'

Someone like ... me.

Shiryuu blinks, as the silver-haired genius snickers at him out of the corner of his eye. How fast was he? How long has be been there? He doesn't speak, but the shihaisha is very clearly fixating.

A genius, unparalleled and vaunted. A man sitting in the corner, propped against the wall, swathed in clothing. He's so powerful, they had to put a straitjacket on him. And yet it doesn't even matter at all, as the man's chin tilt into the collar of his sweater. He grins a scythe smile openly underneath his purple shades.

Pretty, empty-headed little pet...

'.... it's not real'

Umie's voice drifts in over Shiryuu's head like a voice above the water. He only hears a bit of it at a time, and only until her fingers entwine with his, only until he can feel the solidarity of the two of them, that warmth at his side can he forget about the wet chill setting deep into his bones.

Shiryuu blinks once, twice.
"....I don't see anything. I don't hear anything," the boy lies.

And spreads his free hand at his side.

Badb's shriek hits Shiryuu's resonance like a hammer. It's something particular to that boy -- not the light, but the sound of that creature's call gets plucked up, tuned to the right frequency, chopped, and dropped through his subconscious. The sound breaks, flickers, cycles, drifting off into the sky...

"...get ready."

...and then from the jade moon itself, that shriek is shot into the ground like an arrow, the high keen stroked from its treble all the way into thick, swollen digital bass. Through Shiryuu's resonance, the sound lands in rhythm with the flare of blue light like a vast hammer, heavy enough to shake loose every soul and ghost in earshot.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Something in Kurou tells him the game is important. For him. For the ghost. For Umie and Shiryuu to reaffirm one another's presence, side by side. It should be repite: a chance for the weight lifts and everyone can draw breath into their lungs without fear... but Kurou finds his heart aching. Isato. A boy who had a name. A boy who has a grave.

How many of them are there?

"Isato," Kurou repeats, because names have power. He does not smile, either. None could be blamed for thinking, if only for a moment, that two ghosts were at play. Once the game ends, Kurou bows to where the boy once was. "... Thank you for playing with me."

As they move on, he does not speak beyond any small warnings and direction to Umie if one step to the next should require an excess of care or weight to distribute differently. But this is still more voice than Shiryuu.

The gardens are beautiful, he thinks.
But beautiful things in a garden are often the most deadly, he also thinks.

This rule applies, most of all, to a still and beautiful world with no stars.

Everything was pieces of familiarity stitched together. In this new space, he remembers nothing. Is that so strange? There is so much he struggles to remember. But those things are fuzzy edged, like shapes you cannot quite make out in the dark, threatening to take on new shapes. This place is carved into reality and shining clear jade.

An illusion, Umie calls it. That makes sense... Illusions feel the most real of all.

Especially that walking corpse just outside his peripheral vision.

'There's no way back.'

Just a little lost. Everything's still okay.

'But you don't believe that.'

Couldn't he?

'Not with it haunting every step, or every time your fingers close around a teacup. You can fill the cracks with gold, but water will still fall through the missing pieces. It's a simple fact of life: sometimes things break, and they become useless."

It's not real. No matter what it tells you.

'Sometimes that thing is you.'

Umie's grip on him tightens, and Kurou's next breath in is audible for the sharpness of it. She and Shiryuu are navigators, resonate in a way Kurou isn't, with shrieks to pierce illusion, guided on a rhythm that thrums in a hammering pulse.

But if they say it isn't real... And if they say it isn't there...

Kurou looks his free hand in quiet contemplation before biting straight into it until a trickle of red oozes down the lines of his palm.

Well. ''That's'' real, and vivid, and demands the brain's immediate attention over almost anything else.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Overkill toward side::LUNA > The Moon; Pisces > MOON GAZING! Specialty!

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Blackbird's Bite toward side::LUNA > The Moon; Pisces > MOON GAZING! Bravery and
Focus!
MONAD: Umie Akabane has drawn a new Challenge!

(|================ Monad - The Inscrutable Region: Mizunagi ================|)
-==== Round 4: side.SOL .. track I .. MERCURY RECORD: "Doom Decide" - Challenge Level 2 -
| Approach Options: Academics or Understanding |
| Conditions: Stony - Understanding Down L2 and Terrifying - Guts Down L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The grind of a rack and pinion system draws open the battens with a heavy
turn of the handwheel, opening a bulkhead door into a separate compartment
of the ship. Much of the ship is a tangle of tilted industrial catwalks and
halls, the pale light spilling from the porthole windows mixing with the
flickering red glow of lanterns. But the tilt of the flooded ship outside
does not always conform to the space inside, disappearing and reappearing
between compartments. One full step past the bulkhead more than inverts the
path, impossibly twisting over 180 degrees into another time entirely.

The slide of the feudal-style manorhouse's shoji paper door clacks shut
behind. Dark crimson ahead sullies the tatami mats in the room, the pools
disturbed only by the drip of floodwater from an anachronistic tangle of
pipes overhead. Squelching static bleaches the light from the lanterns at
odd intervals.

"I was the first," he says into empty, uncaring space.

At the far side of the room, a noble thing in armor sits, knees folded in
seiza. A thing -- because there is no true indicium that it is a person at
all, a large brass beast ensconced in panels and ridges of samurai armor
made of origami. The black paper of his armor is scrawled over with white
ink, missives and protections in painfully alien cipher. He has only the
brass eyes of a man.

A katana lays across his lap, bound with a labyrinthine nest of bright
orange silk. The scent of flammable lotus oil is stark around the ribbon.
'TENZEN' is the name that howls in the wind though the timbers.

"A man is given a choice between his family's lives or his family's
future," that machine says, the mechanized growl hollow behind a mask. "One
choice preserves the lives of today. The other preserves the lives of
tomorrow. In one, you are a demon. In the other, a monster. Choose now, and
begone forever," he instructs. "Love, or duty."

The question is frustratingly ambiguous -- but he speaks as if the choice
has already been made for him, caring very little about the choice made
today. It's not the answer, but the conviction with which it is spoke that
can convince him to let you pass without burning you with the flaming mark
of a traitor.

"I was the first," he repeats, again.
Again, it doesn't matter at all.

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Isato," Umie repeats, after Kurou does. "... Did you know this was on this ship? Is this some sort of memorial...?" Kurou's direction and correction keeps her from being the one to disturb this place, at least; she doesn't object, either.

The Ryouharas are mysterious enough that something like this here, despite being so complex and hidden away, seems to make sense.

The garden being next had blown that notion out of the water.

'....I don't see anything. I don't hear anything.' Umie regards Shiryuu quietly, tired enough to let her gaze do the talking for her. And because that still isn't enough, she says something more. "... Liar," she says, with a half-grin, half-chiding, half affectionate, as if in the next moment she was going to run her fingers through his hair in a tease.

But that hand is currently intertwined with his, the other with Kurou, and that is where she finds herself needing to be.

There was nothing about the garden itself that called to her memories, save for the current of its appeal to traditional views and ways of life: pristine, controlled, quiet. A still, green-tinted world with no stars, where her true soul resided every night. Like Kurou's mind suggesting letting himself sink into the embrace of water when he first landed here, Umie's mind asks the same: curl up and lie here, and let the night take her.

Joker will be fine, won't he? And Ruin certainly... isn't... (No, Ruin's probably here too.)

How selfish can a girl be, to just want to lie down and wait for the next curtain to rise?! They don't even know why any of this... is!!

But she also feels it, a combining of resonance, a beat synchronizing with her own.

Shiryuu asked someone to listen, and here, Umie does, falling in sync with his. Her eyes fall closed, and she loses herself in that, rather than the night.

It spreads out like waves, ebbing and flowing, then falls into its natural coda, heartbeats bowing out after the performance.

Umie opens her eyes, and glances to Kurou, seeing the red on his palm.

".... You saw something too." Grabbing the last of her tissues, she hands it out to Kurou. "Here."

They have more to go before they can manage to see this through.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> 'Is it a memorial?'
"I don't know," Shiryuu replies, and it seems genuine.
"....none of this is supposed to be here."

Even so, that weary onmitsu watches them; Kurou and the boy, Isato. He watches them play for a lot longer than would be responsible.

It looks like you're lost again... what is it about these places that gives your sense of direction such fits when it's most important? Don't worry.... I'll always show you the way. Just follow in my footsteps.

Shiryuu's jaw is set, even where Umie accuses him of lying, even where Kurou knows to break illusion. Shiryuu takes any reply he could have made to her, and tips it in thick, chunky electronic bass until even the strongest's voice, at the back of his mind, fades.

"Kurou," Ryouhara finally says, as his touch lingers at Umie's hand subconsciously. "Be careful. We don't know if the ship's sickbay is even close yet." That touch lingers even beyond the borderline of reasonable assumptions of attention, as Shiryuu's hand only drops away from hers once he is well on his way to walking.

"If you injure yourself overmuch and the situation destabilizes, even with your jutsu...."

Destabilizes. Right. As if it couldn't be more unstable.

He pulls the batten open and steps into -- and through -- a shoji door, replacing thick, cold, wet iron with elegant rice paper, the catwalks having no relevance in the idyllic, feudal spaces they find themselves in. The boy in the wet haori steps into the space and -- is stopped by the machine laid in front of them.

The boy's derision is almost immediate, even before the sigh that sounds through the timbers to remind them of a name. "It's like our Kouhigoki," he notes, pointedly. In that way, it's almost like a memorial. But...

'A man is given a choice between his family's lives or his family's future...'

The scent of flammable oil reaches the senses just as Shiryuu moves.

"Tch." Shiryuu's teeth show as he pulls a knife with a four inch blade from his sash, and immediately steps forward to kill the huge machine with his bare hands and a tiny dagger, while it's still talking.

"Some of us should have chosen better," Shiryuu replies, mid-stride.

He's already made his decision.
</poem>

MONAD: Shiryuu Ryouhara has acted with Academics toward side.SOL .. track I .. MERCURY RECORD: "Doom Decide"! Base!

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
As Umie hands over the clean tissue, looks down at his bleeding hand. "But... It is not necessary..." He slowly shakes his head. "I do not think it was lying, but... You said not to listen. So I didn't."

Once Shiryuu tells him to be careful, any resistance over the tissue disappears. Kurou's head lowers, a little, as he apologetically accepts it to press into the self made bite marks on his palm.

"... Understood."

For his part, Kurou can think of a number of ways the situation could become more unstable. He steadies himself and Umie, and follows Shiryuu through the ship of patchwork gardens and feudal architecture. Surveying the machine, he only nods slowly, letting Shiryuu's words be the one that stand.

The wind is howling...

Shiryuu already moves to wield a dagger against the machine, and Kurou's muscles go taught, his jaw set firmer as his body begins to tremble with a rage that does not show on his face.

Kurou, as a dutiful shinobi, is often mistaken as having no opinions or desires of his own. It was a feather, loosened from his fingers, that spoke the loudest against these notions at is fell to the ground.

That judgment has not changed, and nor shall he accept a traitor's judgment.

''I was the first,'' the voice says, and the red in Kurou's vision fades just long enough for him to sense a different meaning than the one his rage wants to bite at. Concern calms Kurou's demeanor as he watches Shiryuu.

For a boy who wears little emotion on his face, there the sense of a sentence that cannot begin. Words he needs to say, but does not know how to form. For a long time, he is silent, only watching.

When he finally does speak, it is quietly.

"... I would not be here... if not for someone who chooses both."

Maybe that's too much to say with Zakuro's so fresh in their minds eyes. But there's a difference between a shinobi that falls in action, and the choice that had been made for so many of them.

There's a difference in how Shiryuu fights for their family's future. That's what Kurou believes.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Academics toward side.SOL .. track I .. MERCURY RECORD: "Doom Decide"! Base!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Nothing seems to be where it needs to be.

While the bandaging on Umie's gunshot wound has stabilized her enough for them to move, it's just a compromise between lying down and hoping help will come (which it will not), or recklessly ignoring it and hoping they find the sick bay before she hits a point of no return. And that's just what Umie is dealing with; they are all wounded. If Joker or Ruin are here... The ltter could be wounded someplace, yes, but if she loses too much blood, his actions will be meaningless, and she can't help him, or Shiryuu and Kurou, for that matter.

So she's surprised that she's been as helpful as she has been, so far, despite needing Kurou to move more effectively.

"You did good," Umie affirms, as Kurou applies the tissue to his wound. She couldn't see what either of them saw (if there was anything at all) but Kurou confirms it was *something*, at least. Even the fact that everyone was similarly affected was a bit of a guess-- born from what she was seeing, yes, but still a guess.

(... not that Umie is going to admit that it was a guess in front of Shiryuu. She can't let him win!)
(Umie'll let Shiryuu take the lead, though.)

The surroundings continue to be confusing, the soft Japanese quiet of the enclosed garden replaced with a network of black iron and pipes, clashing with the feudal surroundings.

It extends to the binary of the metal automata's speech, drawing a hard line between love and duty.

To choose between two things, drawn in ways where neither is what you want. To serve the family and community is key to helping all; Umie wouldn't necessarily argue with that as a whole. However, when an individual is cast aside, and the cruelty is overlooked in favor of a large picture only one person can see... it is the thing that draws a discordant note against Umie's ears.

She speaks up as the stranger, the third party whose bias lies in how her fingers earlier traced against Shiryuu's own until they had to move, and how her grip against Kurou's tightens, attempting to impart reassurance to that trembling rage written into his frame.

How did she end up like this, tying herself to two agents of the NWO? It comes in her reply.

"Sounds like you're the one that decided to frame things that way, and that there was only one way things could be. You drew two paths for yourself, and made it seem like some honorable sacrifice that you chose one over the other, and that others had to decide the same. Was it worth it, in the end? To curse everyone with your stubbornness?"

Just as she was, early on, sorting people into her enemy or her ally in regards to the NWO.

It's so much more complicated than that, isn't it? And she's still not sure if trying to make her own path really was that sound.

'... I would not be here... if not for someone who chooses both.' That 'someone' that Kurou references is clear in Umie's sight, as Shiryuu goes to make his stand, armed with only his knife.

She doesn't know any of the history here, but she feels she understands enough on where she wants to be.

The Badb that is Umie responds in turn, playing the role it has for millennia: responding to its favored warriors, inflaming the battleground's desire for blood, and seating itself among its corpses as the mistress of death.

"... Even a small knife can kill a giant, when in the hands of someone determined enough."
</poem>

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Bird's Eye View toward side.SOL .. track I .. MERCURY RECORD: "Doom Decide"! Automap!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== side.SOL .. track I .. MERCURY RECORD: "Doom Decide" - Round 4 ========-
Umie Akabane Academics Success
Bird's Eye View Automap Fatigue: 2 Morale: 4
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shiryuu Ryouhara Academics Success
Academics Base Fatigue: 1 Morale: 3
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Academics Success
Academics Base Fatigue: 2 Morale: 4
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Stony-2 and Terrifying-1
Final Conditions: Stony-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 3/6 |=== | ===================================================-
-==== Loot So Far: ==========================================================-
Items: 0, Money: 0, Gear: 2
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

MONAD: Shiryuu Ryouhara has drawn a new Challenge!

(|================ Monad - The Inscrutable Region: Mizunagi ================|)
-==== Round 5: side::LUNA > The Emperor; Aries > WEIGHT - Challenge Level 4 =-
| Approach Options: Guts or Proficiency |
| Conditions: Bless - +1 to Group Roll (Per Character), Reaper - Add 1 |
| Fatigue., Stony - Understanding Down L2, Stony - Understanding Down L2, |
| and Terrifying - Guts Down L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

(BGM: https://youtu.be/FjSydTHktq4 "Other Mix 2-5" - Persona 2 Eternal
Punishment OST)

An oppressive shade of deep crimson dominates the chamber. Black bordered
panels line the top half of the room, while the lower half is decorated with
painted panels, though the lighting makes it difficult to see what's
depicted on them. Before anyone even thinks of escaping, the sliding doors
behind you shut tight with a sharp clack.

In the second half of the room is a wooden shrine on a small platform,
with a sloped roof and a small set of stairs leading up. Whatever is inside
is obscured by a heavy sudare screen, but the more you try to make sense of
it, the more it feels like an anomaly, glitching and shifting like a broken
signal, full of sharp edges and black static. Stare at it too long, and your
mind will fill it in with something you fear.

Whatever it is (or what your mind paints it as), it's about to notice you,
and you will not appreciate its attention.

Whatever you do, don't let it see you.

The fear alone may make some freeze, while the resourceful may try to hide
or obscure the being's sight. More courageous souls might walk forward and
destroy the screen, but find nothing but a collapsed pile of rusted metal.
Bear the weight of being perceived or do your best to escape its notice
until the gears outside turn again, and you are able to leave.

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> Love, or duty.

'Sounds like you're the one that decided to frame things that way, that there was only one way things could be.'

"You stood for the oppressed, when no one else would," he acknowledges, quietly.

There is no indicator that they, Kurou nor Shiryuu -- should even recognize the huge machine, half again the size of a man and easily Shiryuu's height even sitting on the ground. It is, in truth, the scent of the ninkou that he carries that identifies him first -- a massively scaled up version of Karenkyouhoujin, a sword that uses a resistant wicking cloth soaked in lotus oil to cast dazzling walls of fire. Ironically, when Tenzen stands before him to banish him, even Shiryuu looks small.

"In that way, you were an exemplary Hogarasu in your time," the strangled, one-eyed boy with the stringy grey hair commends the machine, meeting him one eye to two, little knife gripped in hand.

'...I would not be here, if not for someone who chooses both.'

Ryouhara's jaw sets, as his remaining eye closes.

"...but when it came time to do so again, your resolve broke."

"Tenzen. For what you were ...this is 'thank you.'"

The machine looks up grimly, between the two faces who have passed their judgment. Not of the choice they must make, but of the one he made. In the end, the spark from the machine's glove never reaches the cloth, before four inches of steel cuts the hydraulic lines of its suspension.

"....."

It doesn't matter at all, does it?

The response is almost immediate, with another shoji slamming shut behind the group, Another, and then another... the tatami lengthen, and oil that looks too much like blood disappears, along with the assassinated Hogarasu before his killer. Vertigo lurches into the pits of every stomach, and bodily throws a hallway of doors through the three, slamming every open door behind them until --

####
$$$$
!!!!

Static fades and glitches, eating up the air they breathe. Without another step, they're dropped wholesale into a room that replaces the old one entirely, bearing passing resemblance to it only in the fashion that a kitchen bears a resemblance to that same kitchen after someone's been butchered in it. A pale red haze descends like a pillow over the face, pins of ill intent breaking into evey nerve and bone.

The austere weight of judgment and abhorrent purity is intense here, mocking the same judgment that was passed only minutes ago, a foul aftermath and miasma redolent fatally of this space where you are inexorably led.

A decision was made, and you were not part of it.
And now it doesn't matter at all.

The weight of space hits Shiryuu like a hammer, his tired stance rocking him back a half step as the way is simply replaced by a shut door. For a cold blooded instant, he fears. Is the choice right? Resolve replaced nigh immediately with doubt, and the world stretches, snapped tight to another 'axis' entirely in a mechanical half-printing overlaid on the first, one second overexposed onto the next as Shiryuu's gaze is forced -up.-

To stairs, to a closed wooden curtain, shifting with what he interprets as open malice. "...eh??"

He stares, and then looks back, and then looks forward, the funeral pallor and gravity of the situation beginning to set into his bones. The boy looks up, looks around, his eye aching in its socket as he shuts it tighter, fixating up onto the massive panels above along the upper edges of the room. Everywhere he looks, static bleeds into every corner, imagined judgment in every panel.

The thing behind that sudare threatens everything around him. Is it Ruin? It will leave him alone and alive, to contemplate the trail of bodies he leaves in his wake. A child, balling their fists and screaming.

No one will hear.

"H...hey," Shiryuu says, an unbalanced quiver in his voice. "Don't... give up."
"...don't hesitate..."

The boy raises his bloodied (?!) hands and presses his palms around the tiny handle of his knife, raising his fingers just below his left eye. His voice barely makes it, in the tidal wave of nihilism that reminds him that _it doesn't matter, didn't you hear the first fucking time!?_

The kegare causes blood to spatter openly at his feet.

"I'm going to bring down a panel... use your longest range techniques to make sure it lands where it's supposed to."

In front of? Behind? On? Shiryuu can't even put enough of a thought together for that much. Just move. Don't think about it. Trust your instincts.

The onmitsu forces his bloody shearingly blue eye open one more time.
</poem>

MONAD: Shiryuu Ryouhara has acted with Shinsoku toward side::LUNA > The Emperor; Aries > WEIGHT! Escape and Efficient!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> If the last room was something that fell in the twilight realm of something Umie feels she understands but could not be sure of, this is in the harsh spotlight on a cruel stage she didn't want to be a part of.

It feels grossly intentional, this room. The real thing that spawned this little nightmare space looks nothing like this save for the little wooden shrine, which in itself is a construct of traditional Japanese practices. It's larger than it should be, but doesn't that make it easier for the thing inside to be the shape you need it to be, rather than the smaller, more impotent object that occupied it, in reality?

The same goes for the crimson color of this room, a product of a religious bonfire reinterpreted through a barely-remembered collage of a child's memory of something that falls beyond adult understanding.

If only Umie Akabane had the understanding and foresight Tatsuzou did and still does; this room would have been so much grander, a beacon to a pure world.

*CLACK*

The doors shut behind the group. Kurou will feel Umie's grip on him slacken and fall away.

In Umie's mind, the social structures, calming rituals, and bonds dissolve away, leaving a skeletal credo of panicked, animal survival. She draws her hands against the wet broken mask, pressing it down with a mechanical logic, like a child throwing a blanket against the monster under her bed.

Or maube it's for the sake of keeping those hands close to her mouth, muffling whatever sound her throat may be trying to express.

Like a twisting, tightening rope, tensions build, and then, with a half-heard grunt, it all releases.

Like in the past, the Badb materializes, infusing the tense air with a shrieking fury that embodies one half of the two processes within her: an overwhelming anger that needs to be demonstrated, selfish in its desire to do violence, lonely in its helplessless to exert change. .... Then there is the crouching girl, wobbling back, trying to open the door.

'H...hey. Don't... give up. ...don't hesitate...' *drip, drip, drip* Umie can hear the drop of blood and the miasma of kegare. What is Shiryuu doing?

A plan and a goal is laid out, and Umie looks over, hood exposing one scared eye.

These are not a child's hands on the door, but ones with red nails, painted the color she wants, with chips and cuts where she ran up the ship to keep with Joker. Calluses from use, worn in places that were felt with a loving thumb, as she felt the calluses on Shiryuu's own. These are hands that tried to clean Kurou's face as he looked like the entire world fell in on him in that clocktower.

These hands had the audacity to try to block the visor of a man who tried to kill her, and may still succeed, if she lets herself become overwhelmed with fear.

It's a small spark of light to go by, but Umie will use it to guide her way out. Instinct and force, moving forward? That is where the Badb shines.

Badb's shrieking and thrashing stills, the disparate effort condensed into a forward effort, as Umie ignores the door entirely, pointing her fingers towards the flickering, unknown thing.

"Persona."
</poem>

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Blackbird's Bite toward side::LUNA > The Emperor; Aries > WEIGHT! Bravery and Focus!

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Umie points out the fallacy. The only way things could be... as if these things should be different things at all. As if one can be sacrificed to feed the other. To think that way...

... It's why they're in this sorry state, with Shiryuu left to clean up their mess, and those who still remain struggling to see his will done under the stain of old contracts.

Kurou's face shows no emotion as he watches Shiryuu give his gratitude and farewells to the crow of fire, and his own respect. This, too, is why Shiryuu is Shirogarasu. Kurou does not know if he could see kindness in the shapes of his soul, or even wear it as a mask, in such a moment.

With a knife, the machine is done, and Kurou's rage drains completely.

If only he could have found some way to hold onto it before the shoji slammed shut, and everything lurched into static. Kurou falls into red pain and begins to drown. He reaches to catch hold of Umie, but his fingers rake through the pins and needles of empty air.

In the static, he hears the end of a staff hit the ground, the vibration reverberating across the chamber. In his periphery, he thinks he sees a toy or model of a shrine.

It makes Kurou's muscles stop.

The staff ''thunks'' again and Kurou's gaze, without having to move, without daring to move, is thrust upon glitched darkness that threatens to come into focus: a silhouette dancing behind a screen, or a shape behind him, casting its shadow on it.

It makes Kurou's lungs stop.

Pupils shrink and dart, but cannot be pried away. His focus betrays him, trying to make the shape mean something while every instinct and memory reminds him what happens once he finally recognizes the face that means to judge him.

It makes Kurou's

h e a r t

stop.

He clutches his chest with his hand, squeezing his fingers in. And squeezing. And squeezing. And squeezing to the rhythm of a manual beat. Breaths drag out of his throat like razor blades. The next step he forces himself to take collapses under him as if the bone had shattered in his leg.

As if he had no bones at all.

"G... Gash... G..."

He claws at his own throat for his scarf. But he cannot speak the name. He cannot find his grip. He cannot dare tear his hand away from his chest and stop squeezing his own blood through his veins. Darker and darker the world grows, and there is no ground to stand on. There is no edge to grab. There is n o t h i n --

''Don't give up.''
''Don't hesitate.''

A shriek cuts the darkness, and Kurou sees a hooded woman with pallid skin shield his vision from what almost becomes clear in the dark.

In perfect silence, his own heartbeat drowning out every sound, Kurou launches the chain of his ninkou, guided by instinct alone, with claw poised to strike at the panel with Shiryuu's command, and prepared to yank it to finesse it into place with the kind of brutality only fear can inspire.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Overkill toward side::LUNA > The Emperor; Aries > WEIGHT! Specialty!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== side::LUNA > The Emperor; Aries > WEIGHT - Round 5 ====================-
Umie Akabane Guts Success
Blackbird's Bite Bravery and Focus Fatigue: 2 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shiryuu Ryouhara Proficiency Success
Shinsoku Escape and Efficient Fatigue: 2 Morale: 4
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Guts Success
Overkill Specialty Fatigue: 2 Morale: 5
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Bless-0, Reaper-0, Stony-1, Stony-2, and Terrifying-2
Final Conditions: Stony-1 and Terrifying-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 5/6 |=====| ===================================================-
-==== Loot So Far: ==========================================================-
Items: 0, Money: 0, Gear: 2
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

(|================ Monad - The Inscrutable Region: Mizunagi ================|)
-==== Round 6: side.SOL .. track XXI .. EARTH RECORD: "The Forge") - Challenge Level 1 -
| Approach Options: None |
| Conditions: Chest - Add 2 Item/Money/Gear. and Revelation - The best |
| result. |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The harsh clang of iron rings through the core of the ship. A baleful
ember-red glow permeates the vast core -- past a certain perimeter, it is
formless, featureless and vast, the web of pipe and conduit from the other
decks curling into the furnace-bleached white void at the far forward side.

Tumbled and harshly bent, the catwalk paths surrounding the ship's furnace
are asymmetric and chaotic, sketching out a loose path above the iron floor,
where multiple mechanical statues gather around a single focal point.
Shinobi and samurai alike, the armed and armored statues take various
positions across the ground, some standing with hands clasped together in
kuji-kiri hand-seals, others frozen in place holding weapons that glow with
spangled auras of nightbound starlight.

At the center of the statues lay a final mechanical man, frozen in mid-blow
with his hammer driven into a ingot on the anvil, the ingot held in place by
the fierce grip of a set of foundry tongs. Fireflies made of origami flutter
around the impact point, as if mimicking sparks from the impact.

Every so often, a machine will arrive from another part of the ship.
Insensate to your presence, the automaton samurai will forcibly drag a
squealing monster of some sort caught elsewhere in the ship to a circle of
arcane seals on the ground before the sweltering crucible. Once there, the
beast will be forced to kneel, and the machine will settle into a full lotus
position at the foot of the sealing circle. Then, the machine will put its
hands together and begin to murmur a wordless incantation.

If you watch this for long enough, the white, sweltering void will churn
into a deep, shining, crystalline blue, its light dyeing the beast black,
until it breaks apart into black crows, fluttering and cackling through the
forge. Once it does, a new item will materialize into a stand just in front
of the smithy, blotting out the light around it with an eerie starlight
radiance.

The machines around seem to exalt you, respecting your strength. Taking a
newly forged item from the stand will open the way out, a torii gate
standing at the end of a great, black, lonely path.

(OOC: Send a @mail to Shiryuu if you need help deciding what random loot
you get!)

Final Loot: 2 Items and 2 Pieces of Gear!
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> A stronger person would have said something better.
A better person would be able to assuage the pain of his friends.

That child in Akita shouts, as loud as he can. And they break under the weight, one at a time. Shiryuu feels it acutely, in ways that he would not had been able to any other day -- any other place. But to be caught in this sunken hell of a memorial to every poor decision they ever made, wet, bleeding and aching, after being forced to watch the people at his back die, it imposed a uniquely piercing kind of understanding upon him.

It would be one thing to die ingloriously, overpowered and dispensed with as trash. It would be another thing entirely to watch these people around him do the same, and be unable to do anything about it. His Persona is miles away from his grasp, his only weapon remaining being a tiny knife, soaked with oil that this place was trying to tell him was blood. He's all but broken, his skull aching.

But he is alive. They are still alive, he reminds himself.

That's enough, for now.

The static haze over his milky iris makes the intense red light only lightly less hard on his left eye as he forces it open, the muted pupillary response from the color causing his eye to reflexively water at the intensity, the sheen of the lens installed over it crackling and arcing with white lightning over the fine silver wire lanced into the sclera, until those clear tears run cloudy pink, then thick, vicious red. The boy utters something, a small subvocal chant that has nothing to do at all with ninjutsu.

He focuses hard, even as the crows scream above him, and their herald -- her Persona -- battles the very air itself in full revolt.

"It's ... it's fine.."
Kyotosaigan glows more fiercely. His blood spatters the ground, as his stomach threatens to upend itself, turning sour and churning in blatant warning. Shiryuu almost vomits, as he tries.

Focus, he says to himself.

What would that boy behind him think of him if he broke, here?
Would he ever see her again, if they became lost in this space?
Wasn't it he, who started this...?

Focus. "... never hesitate," he repeats.

Shiryuu breathes outward, and takes a step ninety degrees to the world.

From an external perspective, the boy with grey hair seems to split, glitching to the left mid-step before a hundred steps are folded into one, and he crosses across the room and up in an instant, clinging to one of the huge panels suspended high up in the room by a single bare arm. Objectively, he doesn't have what it takes, not really -- a wet, ragged boy stabbing fiercely at the track and nail holding the wood sheet in place while holding on for dear life. But he is doggedly persistent.

Persistent enough to pry the panel loose a nail at a time with that little knife and the force of his body weight. He falls, the panel tumbling end over end after him. He'll likely land on his feet.

The rest is up to them.

The clawed end of the chain whirls in, sinking deep into the heartwood, Kurou's aim deadly, true, to right the panel in the air, to tractor it into alignment, to aim it true. And in the next, Badb's talons seize it roughly, her keening shriek winnowed down into vicious silence.

With the finality of a door slamming shut, the panel too slams over the curtain, replacing shades with a wall, guided into place and sealed with a Persona's power. Whatever was on the other side never gets the chance to lay eyes on them.

Then and only then will gears churn in the ship's belly, peeling open the path from panels like a sectioned orange.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> When Kurou needed Umie, Umie had pulled away, leaving his hands with nothing.

There will be moments later when Umie will look back at this and feel deep regret; however, that will be in hindsight, as the Umie of now is still gathering the pieces of her full self.

But it still comes back, for Kurou, in how the ghastly dark grey cape and blue-veined legs of the Badb fall over him, blocking his sight of the thing his mind constructs.

The Badb is the Badb, but it is also Umie. The protective bent to her methods becomes reasserted twice over as she remembers -- is reminded -- of the things that child never had. That, as well as what she wants to exert, by being the person Tamaki once explained herself as being: the person she wished she had, back then.

The impulses and cause and effect is still there; this is just a small victory earned over a split-second impulse that turned out to be the right one.

The instinct to resist, to push back, is so fiercely intertwined inside her.

Foolishly, Umie moves, one hand held over her wound, her path consistent until she's able to fall to Shiryuu's side in a rough embrace. The kegare burns like a needle in her mind's eye, continually reminding Umie that is it there, and that she still has no clue what any of it means.

Shiryuu's back will feel wet, as sobs unhinge themselves from the alcove inside Umie's chest, falling out like the crush of sea foam against the shore.

*clang* *clang* *clang* *clang*

In the stilled silence, the mind will naturally fall on whatever it can hear, be it the muffled heartbeat of the person Umie is lying on, or the clang of something being hit.

"..." She doesn't want to move. Like before, she wants to lie there, forever.

But the Badb in her is a restless thing, uneager to spend time wasting away. So, she draws back, and slowly walks forward. '... Gonna scout," she mumbles. "Something... weird is up ahead." There was a signal, of a shadow or demon, and it had disappeared.

The rough edges of her latent senses can only make out so much, but going there, she realizes the blatent truth.

It's like a demonstration at a forge, with a mindless shadow, having fallen into this strange place, being reforged into something anew. The moment the machine is done, the machines all around the group bend in quiet exaltation.

"I think... they want us to take it."

A way clears, leading to a lonely torii gate.

"... I think we're going to be okay, for now, guys."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
He didn't catch Umie's fingers. His hand couldn't find his throat, and was clutched to his chest, unable to find her. He could barely hear Shiryuu. His body was good for very little but obedience.

This time, in his favor.

This time, not lost in darkened hours, but enveloped in a cloak that reminds him of fuzzy blankets.

This time, the haze lifts, and he breathes.

In the end of it all, Kurou is unseen unless one looks down to see him huddled. He grips Soumeiunsatou in one hand, thumb lifted from the hilt and pressed deep into the meat that connects his shoulder to his torso. His other hand claws into his hair, head tucked down, nails biting into his scalp, and chain held to drape over his back like a cold weight.

Breathe.

Umie sobs, and it makes Kurou aware of how much his body begs to let go of the tension and doesn't know how.

Breathe.

They are still alive.

That ''is'' enough, for now.

He hopes that he remains unseen until he finally picks himself up from the floor. When his head lifts, his expression is still unchanged, but his face is soaked.

Even so, his voice is steady.

"Then we take it, and we hurry."

She still needs medical attention, after all.

</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> Aa. There is much to regret tonight.

His fingers slide into the spaces between hers. By the time it's all over, Shiryuu is on the ground in a crouch, breathing slowly. The foul miasmatic pressure that stained every corner of the space red seems to be lifted, and for a moment Ryouhara's shoulders can lift. The kegare level of his ninkou still clings like needles to vast swaths of his skin under his coat, but it's not something he pays attention to now, even when her weight lands on him like a bag of wet sand, soaking his damp haori anew.

What, really, can he say? Is that ... something he even can understand? It's outside the realm of pretty, empty headed creature.

No.. don't think about it.

"....hey..." Shiryuu starts uneasily, his voice still tired and unsteady.

"...'m going to win, if you let your guard down like this."

Shiryuu squeezes that hand lightly. His is a watery attempt at a smile. Quite pointless, really, and it's probably lucky that Umie, at least, never has the chance to see it. Shiryuu gives his glance over to Kurou as he fixes his expression into something far more grim and flat, painfully lifting himself up after her. Umie doesn't get far -- Shiryuu moves at the same cadence she does, getting a shoulder underneath her pointedly.

"...you guys. Acting like you're invincible too," Ryouhara observes, grimly. It's both noting the current moment, and the tacit acknowledgment that they decided to come at all. It's a rueful sort of acknowledgment, stated flatly, though it would be a mistake to ascribe anything but endearment to the observation.

His left eye is a red mess, and absent his will to force it open, the swollen thing is staying intractibly shut.

"mmh...rebels and malcontents," the shihaisha decides, unilaterally.

"...one foot in front of the other," he agrees with Umie. "Come on. We have to get home so I can decide your fates.."

The machines seem to exalt them in the light of the forge ahead, one by one recognizing and hailing their presence. It's a wild, eerie coordination to behold. The boy stares with one wondrous eye, and for once, even the elite ninkousha doesn't _quite_ know the totality of what he's looking at. "Aa... a." It's almost all he can muster, when Umie recognizes gifts for what they are.

Then, ironically, Kurou is the first to make a decision.

"...yeah, you're right," Shiryuu agrees. He finally drops his little knife there, in the forge, as if it were an offering. He lifts a hand to Kurou, for him to take.

"...let's go. You lead, this time."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Fear and tears: two things Umie *hates* showing. At the same time, she is allowed to, by the same machinations that would rope off such things to people like Shiryuu, Kurou, and beyond that, Joker, though what lies underneath each of their own reasons will be different.

"... finnnnne....." Umie mumbles into Shiryuu's back, as he mentions something about 'not letting him win'.

They all make their way out through the torii gate, and into chilly winter air.

There is nothing behind them but a normal alleyway between two buildings, while up ahead, there is a sign.

---NARUMI MEMORIAL HOSPITAL---

Seeing the double doors, lit from the inside against the late night, is all Umie needs before her strength begins to flag.

No, there's something she needs to do, first. Slipping a half-gloved hand into her coat, she unearths a cell phone and punches in a message or two. as she looks up.

>> you ok??? at Nareumihospital
>> will b ok, u b safe
>> talk later

She flips it closed, her body sagging with a sigh. She looks up...
And up.
And... up.

".... why is there a ship... here..." she says, wavering. "... Are we... still there?"

There is a ship embedded in the side of the hospital, joined in place in a way that feels unnatural, like it had just been phased into being. This late at night, people are moving and rushing around, with the distant wails of emergency sirens.

"Someone's injured! Three of them! Over here!" A man in hospital scrubs notices the three of them, seeing the bloom of blood on Umie's chest, the red dripping from Shiryuu's eye, and Kurou's overall state. "Get them to the south entrance, we can figure out where to transfer them later!"

If Shiryuu and Kurou want to leave, this'll be their only chance. However, there's one problem: Umie's now sagging against Shiryuu with her full weight, mumbling something about 'you win'.

The boat was too much, it looks like.
</poem>
[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-07-09: A Memorial of Mistakes

2026-07-13T22:48:07Z

Tanyuu: Tanyuu moved page 2026-07-09: A Memorial of Mistakes to 2026-07-10: A Memorial of Mistakes: Making sure it appears in order on log lists

#REDIRECT [[2026-07-10: A Memorial of Mistakes]]

2026-07-10: A Memorial of Mistakes

2026-07-13T22:48:07Z

Tanyuu: Tanyuu moved page 2026-07-09: A Memorial of Mistakes to 2026-07-10: A Memorial of Mistakes: Making sure it appears in order on log lists

*'''Log: A Memorial of Mistakes'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Shiryuu Ryouhara]], [[Umie Akabane]], [[Kurou Ryouhara]]
*'''Where:''' A Strange Place
*'''OOC Date:''' July 09, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' December 07, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''Right after the [https://www.velvetroom.wiki/index.php/2026-07-09:_Zenkokourou the fight in Sumaru Bay], Shiryuu, Kurou, and Umie find themselves in a strange place that none of them are familiar with. However, the same cannot be said of the place itself, which is very familiar with them. However, with all of them as injured as they are, they have to keep moving, or disappear forever.''
*'''CW''': Trauma Responses
----
(|================ Monad - The Inscrutable Region: Mizunagi ================|)
-==== Round 1: side.SOL .. intro 0 .. TURNTABLE SATURN: "the gate" - Challenge Level 1 -
| Approach Options: Proficiency or Academics |
| Conditions: Clumsy - Proficiency Down L1 and Stupor - Academics Down L1 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

Tumbling through the void, you fell through at least ten gates, all
stacked at physically impossible angles. It felt like forever before you
landed here, in the center of a vast, flooded cavern cut into the abominable
stone.

The vagarious iridescence of reflections from the water seethes across the
cavern walls, glittering like waterborne gems that may or may not actually
be present in the dancing floodwaters. Though the water is deep enough that
you can't see the bottom, you may still stand easily on its surface, as
solid as glass, only the lightest ripple indicating your passing.

A torii gate stands on the water behind you, a dark, impossible mirror to
the space above, crimson red with pitch-black ofuda hanging forlornly from
its posts. Ahead lay a crippled, sunken ship, lopsided and run aground,
buried in a rocky shore that looks like the outer facade of a building,
tilted to a bizarre, mad slant.

The ship is silent, bitter and lonesome. All rotting steel and overgrown
with green vines, it's lit solely from a single consecrate beam of bright
light from far above. The dilapidated ship lists dangerously, hull sitting
at almost a forty five degree angle above the floodline, the fore and bridge
decks of the vessel unreachably high towards the top of the cavern, with the
aft section melding into the rock face.

A small, shattered helicopter is crumpled like paper, rotors snapped off
and bent around it. It's all but wrapped around a shattered helipad that
used to be attached to the ship, itself now forming a loose bridge that
cants towards the cargo area, allowing entry to the ship. But one method of
entering the ship itself is a keypad outside of the aft cargo hold,
flickering with barely-functional illumination.

Instead of a numerical code, the door is secured by a password system, and
the door to the hold is secured with what appears to be ancient clockwork
gears instead of any actual modern latching system. The password doesn't
seem to be anything basic, and changes on the day and the whim of the
blasphemous world. Only a passing knowledge of the ship itself -- or a
willingness to get physical with the interlock -- will gain entry to the
ship's interior spaces.

(OOC NOTE: Passages in red text will appear in some rooms. These represent
omnipresent thoughts or feelings that can be detected by those open to it.)

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

....and slowly, the vertiginous sense of being flipped end over end over end and being thrown entirely through a building fades to a harsh, piercing, subluminal whistle, reminding his senses it's time to be alive.

In one moment, Shiryuu was watching it go all very, very wrong. Akabane was crumpled and bleeding, and Kurou was running towards them just as something he couldn't identify was piercing into every nerve he had.

It would have been easy to think, instinctively, that that was how people with that Mark died -- stolen into something indefatigibly black and vacuous in the sky. He could be forgiven for making that assumption, to try his 'eye' again and again to try and steal them away. Each time, doubt was an acid at the back of his spine. Kurou was too far, Umie too far gone, his strength not enough by a sight.

But as the night grew closer, a very young 'fear' replaced it, and he could be forgiven for that in the moment.

But he won't be, he'll see to it.

The water trickles a muted trail of crimson from his eye as the elder Ryouhara stirs, face half submerged. The cool kiss of water breaks as he awakens, mouth breaking open in a short, sharp gasp as he sits up with a start, disoriented and at the wreckage of what he assumes is "Ruin"'s work, the sinking of the ship entirely, and they must have washed ashore.

But it doesn't look like any shore they've been on, and Shiryuu looks up at the light, dum and dumb. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he instinctively recognizes the familiar silhouette of Ryouhara artifice at the lower decks of the wreckage that was not there before, of weapons so far up they might as well have been on a mountain. Instinctively, some part of him recognizes this before he is fully conscious and aware of what it means.

"...ah..."

It is also not the part of him that takes alarm when his first conscious thought lands. "!"

"Kurou -- Umie!?"
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Loneliness was something that tied Umie to many people. It binded her to people, made her invest in their lives, made her feel loss when she inevitably had to draw the curtain back, creating a distance her and someone else.

Over and over, neverending. If it wasn't due to having to hide her late night excursions, the bruises and scratches, or the green hour she was attracted to like a moth to a flame, it was the girl in her mind's eye, like a jealous old friend with a face that became less and less similar to Umie's own, as she grew up.

It is loneliness that made a peculiar trait of this place. It is silent. No demons or shadows inhabit it, though with how newborn this space is, it is bound to be infiltrated at some point, later on.

(Those beings will just find themselves the unfortunate casualties of a space that is hostile to anything that comes in from outside, much like the people it was born from, but that is for the future to reveal. Perhaps, that is also why they don't hear Joker and Ruin, whereever they are?)

"... ngh...."

Her chest hurts. Her right hand hurts as well, though that's mostly due to Ruin smacking it in the earlier stages of their fight.

She smells... kegare, coming from somewhere. Her hand goes to her chest, and comes away with blood.

Ah. That's a problem, isn't it?

Her brain begins to collect backwards the 'now', remembering shocked faces, yells, names being shouted.

Shiryuu. Kurou. Joker.

A goal is verified in her mind, and Umie sits up, a mechanical, practical frame of mind kicking into gear.

It's the same as any Dark Hour, after all: you must survive. Before you can search, the bleeding must be stopped. Sweat itches at the corners of her mask as Umie pads down her jacket, grabbing whatever could be used to staunch the bleeding: a roll of bandages will work, yes, but what about the others? They all have to make it, too.

A quick glance upwards as she loses sight of her goal in the face of the massive ship. "...."

Don't think about it. Just keep going.

She tries to shout, but her voice cracks, her expanding ribcage just making the gunshot wound shoot right back up to priority one.

Some wads of clean tissue are pressed to the wound, Umie wincing and curling in on herself before continuing on.

She hears someone calling her and Kurou's name, but the rattle in her voice makes it hard to call back. At least it's easy to see her, out in the open, like this.

Surrounded in a thinning veil of faint red.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
It is through Joker's quick thinking and action that allows Kurou to -- miraculously -- land on his feet.

Even in a space such a this, where every angle is wrong and glittering illusions taunt from thick darkness, and where a ship broken and half reclaimed by life and death alike. It's just that 'landing on his feet' means very little if it's into water.

He will be wet, and wet is near certain death. The chill of clothes sticking to skin. The restriction of movement. The threat of sound a single droplet of water can make. It is a terrifying suggestion the mind offers to stay in the water, hold his breath, and ''pray'' is the better plan.

Kurou's fingers curl in, and do not sift through water density. They run across a hard, glassy surface. He is not ''in'', but ''upon''. And, somehow, ''has'' landed on his feet, should a crouch count as such.

When he tries to speak, his voice is steady, but so very small. He is not sure why he thinks anyone would hear that. His instincts have him speaking as if he must not be heard at all.

It takes a moment to realize it, in mind as well as body, for it's the body that is always loudest: this is not before. This is a time after Gashadokuro's hunger. This is a time when --

He must find them.

Kurou rises to his feet, combing back his sweat and sea salt sticky bangs back with his fingers. "Akabane-san." His voice is still soft, but carries across the void this time. He sees her, wandering out there, he hears Shiryuu, calling for them both. He tries to set his hand to her, to steady here. "Rest," he demands.

"We're here," he calls to Shiryuu.

</poem>
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

The skull-splitting whistle is one that only Shiryuu can hear, and the splitting headache matches his looks -- a wet, stringy, soaked mess, far and away from the perfect onmitsu that he projects. His left eye is stuck shut -- it still burns, and Shiryuu is no longer convinced the wet feeling on his face is water.

His sword is on the ship he dimly realizes, finally. If Ruin returns -- and based on his voice, he will -- he won't even be able to conjure Sarutahiko. He doesn't even know how long it's been, or how much of a head start he has.

Problems for later.

The boy runs. Hearing Kurou's voice draws his attention away from the ship, away from his instinct to try and figure out where they were last, finally focusing on the water around him.

Suppressing every fibre of what he 'wants,' the boy's tired relief is still obvious when he approaches them. She's still alive. So is he, but...

There's so much blood everywhere.

Ryouhara's lips tighten. Put the thought aside. One step in front of the other.

"Don't stand," he tells Umie, instead of literally anything else.
"Make sure," he tells Kurou, instead of literally anything else.

Take care of yourselves, is the shihaisha's order. There's no time. No time to think about it anymore. "The ship's ... been moved," he says, looking back towards it. Why is the world backwards now? He doesn't understand what's going on, but...

"... There'll be a sickbay."

The shihaisha breathes out, sharply focused, one eye forward and staring at the ship.

"I'm going to go back in and find it. I'll bring back supplies. If I run across 'that man,' I'll put a stop to him. ... I'll save Joker, too."

The grey headed boy breathes again. The kegare level of his ninkou is shrieking in his head, and the wet, bloodstained hand he rams through his hair does absolutely nothing for it.

"...If I don't come back, try to trigger an explosion to summon the clan. The last shipment was laced with explosives. We should be close to a hospital," he thinks, though he has absolutely no apparent reason to say or believe the latter.

"Don't follow me."

The boy's already jumped off, trying to make his way towards what's left of the helipad.
</poem>

MONAD: Shiryuu Ryouhara has acted with Proficiency toward side.SOL .. intro 0 .. TURNTABLE SATURN: "the gate"! Base!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Umie looks at Kurou, and comfort swims on her face. A shuddering sob contorts into a laugh, exhaustion blending into happiness as she realizes she's not alone.

"Kurou," she croaks, bypassing politeness for the sake of having as few syllables as possible. It's also because it's Kurou, and Umie trusts that he'd understand.

Thirdly, because it needs to be highlighted twice, it's Kurou.

"... Guess I lived," she smirks, a twinkle in her eyes, as she carefully, sits, then lays down, her breathing settling.

But only for a moment.

"Owowow," she says, a split nanosecond later, as she shifts, purely for the selfish reason of seeing Shiryuu's face.

The happiness she feels at Shiryuu being alive is shot through (pun intended) by the blood there in his eye, and the unsettling presence of something wafting from him.

"... Kegare...?" she murmurs aloud, confused. "Why's your eye..."

His first command as shihaisha is for her to not stand, and for Kurou to make sure she doesn't, because he knows Umie well enough.

And Shiryuu is exactly right.

'If I run across 'that man,' I'll put a stop to him. ... I'll save Joker, too.'

Umie groans as she gets up. "Nope. No. Not doing that alone. Could be agents in there. Still have Badb, and still have my weapon."

".... Also... I was the one who asked Joker to help me. The Phantom Thieves need him back." She needs Joker alive, as well. No longer because of what he represented, or some small part of her that had a crush on him, but because she considers him someone she wants to call a friend.

Also, on a more direct note...

".... I don't want to lose you." It sits at the center of everything, the reason behind so much of what Umie did, and is doing now.

Shiryuu's plan is sound- logical, even. But Umie knows Shiryuu well enough in the ways he's very much like her, and that way is how either of them would handle a situation like this.

They'd try to control the situation.

"... Kurou is here with me. We'll protect each other. We'll do this as a team. Okay?"

And she'll make that plan manifest, with the stubborness that has likely tested Shiryuu's patience many times, if not won his affection. She'll need help, of course, but using the Badb, she's able to recongize one thing.

"..... No demons, or shadows. No one with a detectable Resonance either," she says, her voice a whisper. "But Joker and Ruin are able to bypass Badb's sight anyway. So would any agents lacking Personas."
</poem>

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Bird's Eye View toward side.SOL .. intro 0 .. TURNTABLE SATURN: "the gate"! Automap!

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
The battle was as brutal as it was fierce. Kurou is trying to assess the damage now. Umie is the worst off, but Kurou fears he makes that judgment too soon. In the battle with Hodai, Shiryuu had tried to obscure an entire wound across his torso. There is so much blood, and so much wet, that everything melds together in uncertainty.

Much like this place.

Kurou has blade marks across his back, and the brutal hit that sent him flying. The impact throbs, and must have left a mark. But as long as Gashadokuro hungers, Kurou stands.

Right now, he stands with Umie. Her sob turns into a laugh, and his grip on her tightens to hear his name. There is an Umie here, where there almost was no more Umie at all.

With her pain, he relaxes, and then he moves, to let her see Shiryuu easier.

"I can stitch the wound if we find one," he promises of the sickbay. But --

''We'', he says, because he does not yet realize Shiryuu only means he himself will be finding it. ''Don't follow.'' Usually, the sihaisha orders bring a calm and clarity to everything. There is certainty in the path. But now the line has never been clearer: there is the sihaisha's order... and then there is loyalty.

He already knows that Umie will disobey, and he does not try to stop her. Instead, he is right with her, offering his shoulder if she needs the support. It is making sure she does not stand if she is given the means to ''lean''.

But unlike Umie, he does not know what words to say, only that tangled knot of feelings that cannot decide if it should explode or wither at the thought of Shiryuu's disappearing form their sight, fighting alone again to try and protect them.

So, instead, all he adds is:

"... Please."

They need to keep going, and he can, at least, help Umie do it with minimal aggravation to her wounds.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Without a Trace toward side.SOL .. intro 0 .. TURNTABLE SATURN: "the gate"!
Diligence and Patra!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== side.SOL .. intro 0 .. TURNTABLE SATURN: "the gate" - Round 1 =========-
Umie Akabane Academics Success
Bird's Eye View Automap Fatigue: 0 Morale: 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shiryuu Ryouhara Proficiency Success
Proficiency Base Fatigue: 0 Morale: 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Proficiency Success
Without a Trace Diligence and Patra Fatigue: 0 Morale: 1
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Clumsy-2 and Stupor-2
Final Conditions: Stupor-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 1/6 |= | ===================================================-
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

MONAD: Umie Akabane has drawn a new Challenge!

(|================ Monad - The Inscrutable Region: Mizunagi ================|)
-==== Round 2: side.SOL .. track X .. JUPITER RECORD: "Unrealized" - Challenge Level 2 -
| Approach Options: Understanding or Charm |
| Conditions: Bothersome - Charm Down L1, Hard - Understanding Down L1, and |
| Stupor - Academics Down L1 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The flooded spaces in the ship's corridors apparently drain through this
chamber, an idyllic water garden running through the ship's cargo areas.
Despite the ostensibly utilitarian space, beyond the ship's bulkheads and
partitions lays a spread of basins, water tables and fountains, all draining
into one another and filling the room with the omnipresent sound of
trickling water, and the distant, serene clack of noise-maker sozu bamboo
pipes.

While the footpath is both overlooked and overlooks multiple basins, the
vast below drops off into lush forever, brush and greenery swallowing up
lower basins and water tables in a nonsensical drop further down the
suggestions of an artificial mountainside. Most of the flowers this high up
are types of waterborne lotus, all serene and white, however many of these
flowers are toxic to the touch, paralyzing whosoever tries to touch them.

He doesn't wear armor, not like the others. He is a boy cut from
refracting, shimmering light, an apparition standing on the other side of a
compound lens folding out of the floor. The complex assortment of lenses,
rocker arms and focusing arrays channels a single lonely beam of moonlight
from above to project the boy at play, a boy in a lavishly patterned kimono
and a white lightning bolt shot through his shock of black hair. A sword,
far too large for the boy, is tucked in a sheath at his back. The mechanical
lenses portray him in shimmering, liquid relief, as if on the outer edge of
an event horizon. He bounces a colorful ball -- the only thing real -- on
the ground, focusing on the play.

Every so often he looks up, as if searching for someone to play with. Every
time he looks up, he finds no one in the lonely garden. Ignoring you at
first, the boy sighs, and continues.

At even junctures, the footpath shifts, the apparition shimmering. Folding
into the floor, the entire apparatus disappears only to unfurl somewhere
else, projecting the shimmering boy and his lonely game somewhere else. The
ball bounces from place to place, following his path and play.

Slowly but surely, he'll find his way to a gravestone at the center of the
garden. On it is written a name: 'ISATO.'

A dangerous place, a lonely game. The boy will only be here for a short
time until he is gone, disappearing at the grave. Though the boy does not
speak but for the click of the complex machinery around him, understanding
why he is here or getting his attention off of his doomed dream may prompt
him to point you to the way out of the chamber.

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

There is nothing left of the panicked boy from however long ago, tied up and replaced entirely by the sleek, grim, imperious countenance of Shiryuu Ryouhara of Akita. No matter how miserable his state, no matter what situation he finds himself in, the boy replaces doubt with his will.

A will that he finds the others in full defiance of.

"Umie... Kurou..." No one listens to him. Shiryuu's mouth tightens as Umie stands -immediately- after his order not to, and the look he gives her is far more intimate and grudging than he'd give anyone else.

She is alive, he realizes, alive enough to point out he's unarmed. Ironic. There is a small -- not really small, he notices in a forcibly detached way -- urge to tear her dumb mask off and kiss her stupid face.

The boy sighs, sword long as he distinctly plucks his sole functioning eye from Umie and turns towards his subordinate. 'I can stitch the wound...' "... is that right," he asks the younger, appraising him for injuries of his own. The invisible blow that sent the smaller shinobi flying off course is still a matter of concern, Shiryuu recognizes, with bitter memory. He could have internal injuries, though he's familiar with the power of the youth's Persona. How long will that hold out?

'Why's your eye...' "...that's not important right now," Shiryuu replies firmly, attempting to gain a handle on the scenario and stifle the fomenting rebellion.

'...I don't want to lose you,' '...please.'

Shiryuu's eye narrows.

".... what is even with you guys..."

Shiryuu absolutely doesn't consent, but he turns back away, folding his arms in abject annoyance. "We had our spies get security codes to the ship beforehand as a matter of precaution. From here, the lock is..." he pauses, "different," deciding, "but it should still work." He gives another sharp look at stupid-face Umie as she gives her own assessment of the matter.

"They won't escape these hands, either," Ryouhara grouses, leaping ahead.

****

However, the first thing Shiryuu realizes is that literally nothing in the ship conforms to their intelligence anymore, and the flooded corridors are far too long and twisting to even fill the logical space of the ship. And the worst part about everything is, it gets uncomfortably familiar uncomfortably fast.

The chamber they arrive at is not the cargo bay, not anything like it, opening into.. the outside? "... iih?" No.. it's more than that, isn't it?

He knows the mechanisms that unfold from the floor, though their armatures work in unknowable, indiscernible ways to channel moonlight into a ... "...Supralunar imagery?" he wonders aloud, as a ghost literally appears in their mist.

For all of his bravado, Shiryuu very plainly has no idea what he's looking at. Which means that he is also late to notice the very important parts of what he does know.
</poem>

MONAD: Shiryuu Ryouhara has acted with Understanding toward side.SOL .. track X .. JUPITER RECORD: "Unrealized"! Base!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> If only Shiryuu knew.

It's probably Kurou being there, as well as the unknown status of where Joker is, that keeps Umie from kissing Shiryuu right then and there.

That, and the fact that she's currently needing to depend on Kurou to really move.

Hodai and Ruin's mention of Umie using Kurou as a 'pet' and 'boy toy' continually cycle in her mind every time she lets herself lean or use Kurou's offer of help. However, there's not much that could be done for it; she *has* to use Kurou to steady herself, and thankfully, Kurou's slightly taller height makes it easier for him to do so.

".... When we get to the sickbay, we'll patch you up too, Kurou," Umie says, feeling guilty that she used what she had on herself as it was, with only some leftovers for Kurou or Shiryuu by the time both found her. Her insistence, at least, allowed part of Kurou's feelings to be expressed at the very least; she wasn't raised in the same environment as he or Shiryuu, and doesn't carry the same complusions to display that lawful sort of loyalty.

Umie's loyalties are bought through action and whim alone.

Though, wasn't that what underlies Kurou's, as well?

"... There's a lot of water damage," she whispers, leaning against Kurou as they walk. Her kintsugi mask, she slowly realizes, is likewise damaged, having sustained damage during the fight, and had liquid seep in through the cracks of the sealant, as well as the weak points where the gold leaf was applied. She debates removing it, but her hand quivers as it nears the paper maiche edge. "..."

She can't be seen, even if she's among people she trusts with her life, and even though her name's been said many times.

Nothing's making sense here; she needs all the armor she can get her hands on.

*****

Umie's eyes widen slightly.

"... He's alone."

It's an illusion, but the blood loss and injury have made her a little more direct with her emotions, for better or worse.

And of course, her heart would be the one to break seeing a child playing alone.

Logic reasserts itself, and Umie looks around. "This..." The foliage, the apparatuses, the machinery... "What is this?"

Keep it together, Umie. "... What did I do...?"

</poem>
MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Understanding toward side.SOL .. track X .. JUPITER RECORD: "Unrealized"! Base!

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
It will hold out until the power of Persona cannot be called, and only then will anyone learn whether or not Kurou is in a state to crumble like a pile of bones at dawn.

But Kurou has his own resolve he paints over his fears. If Shiryuu can take any comfort in the way Kurou looks back at him with his loyal but unwavering disobedience, it is that almost certainly Umie Akabane can be held responsible for this show of willfulness.

He may have been called a pet or even a toy, but the attempts to insult never landed on Kurou himself. Perhaps because he never thought of himself better than that...

"Triage," he says to Umie, and there is a willfulness in this reminder, too.

... Or is it because... when he thinks something is that incorrect, he doesn't really dwell on it.

But what is with them? Kurou does not know how to answer that. It is not how he should be behaving. Yet, just a moment ago, it was all almost empty again... Now it's together, even if he has to hold it himself to keep it that way.

The architecture continues to make little sense. Kurou tenses briefly, surveying the garden with a lingering gaze suggesting far more confusion than even its chaotic nature warrants. He looks down at the flowers.

"... Ah. Mother would ask me to fetch these, sometimes..."

Then, for Umie's benefit:

"Do not touch them. They're poison."

A boy bounces a ball alone in the deadly garden. Silent as the ghostly child, Kurou watches the pattern of play. "Umie. Please rest," he asks her, gently helping her settle if she'll allow it.

Then he waits for the moment when chasing after the toy takes so long it begins to drain the momentum, and then he makes his strike...

... knocking it back toward the child. And if it should bounce again, Kurou moves to respond, weaving through toxic flowers, over basins, and balanced along mountainsides. It is a dangerous game.

But Kurou still plays it like a game.

Is it even for the sake of finding their way through, or does he simply not want to leave this ghost to his lonesome, with the familiarity of the location?

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Shut Up and Nod toward side.SOL .. track X .. JUPITER RECORD: "Unrealized"! Amrita!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== side.SOL .. track X .. JUPITER RECORD: "Unrealized" - Round 2 =========-
Umie Akabane Understanding Failure
Understanding Base Fatigue: 1 Morale: 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shiryuu Ryouhara Understanding Success
Understanding Base Fatigue: 0 Morale: 2
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Understanding Failure
Shut Up and Nod Amrita Fatigue: 1 Morale: 1
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Bothersome-2, Hard-2, and Stupor-1
Final Conditions: Bothersome-1 and Hard-1
-================================================= Party Result: Failure ====-
-==== Reach: 1/6 |= | ===================================================-
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

MONAD: Shiryuu Ryouhara has drawn a new Challenge!

(|================ Monad - The Inscrutable Region: Mizunagi ================|)
-==== Round 3: side::LUNA > The Moon; Pisces > MOON GAZING - Challenge Level 3 -
| Approach Options: Charm or Guts |
| Conditions: Bless - +1 to Group Roll (Per Character), Bothersome - Charm |
| Down L1, Hard - Understanding Down L1, Mindnumbing - Academics Down L2, |
| Reaper - Add 1 Fatigue., and Terrifying - Guts Down L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

You enter into a square engawa (or veranda) surrounding a tsubo-niwa: a
small enclosed Japanese garden. A small pond, outlined in stone, is situated
next to a Japanese maple with delicate red five-pointed leaves. Curated
patterns are drawn into the gravel, adding order between limestone rocks
covered in moss. Past the roof's overhang, you can see a brilliant view of a
bright jade moon, coating the meticulously tailored space in a familiar
verdant glow.

It's always there for you, every night: a still, beautiful world with no
stars.

(BGM: https://youtu.be/-7e-MKch5ZY Yasuharu Takanashi - "Osoroshige")

As leaves shiver in a laughing wind, a leaf falls onto the pond's surface.
Soft, echoing footsteps run past the edge of your vision. You may hear
purred whispers, letting you know that no one knows you better, that no one
else could possibly understand what it's like. All except her. She's always
been there for you.

There is an absence in the corner of your vision: a crawling shadow where
you expect something to be. It has your hair, your face, your eyes, your
body. No one else can see it.
It is a creature of contradiction. It is not you.

Remain firm in your sense of self. Support those in your party who falter.
This night will end, just like the others, and you will be able to continue
on.

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> If the first signal that something was wrong was the ship's garden, surrounded by poisonous flowers, the second will be the shift in spaces to what would be considered a traditional Japanese manor, with a sliding door to pass into the a space seemingly forgotten by time.

You could even think this was a place to rest, given the environment's intended purpose: a carefully curated patch of nature, squared off from the rest of the world, with a square portrait of the sky drawn past the overhang of the roof. There is plenty of space to sit and rest, maybe even find some time to apply healing to those wounds.

It's an illusion, as fake as the garden here, and the starless night above.

The whisper in your ear disagrees.

It'll be there, in the corner of one's eye: a thing that is not you, shaped like you, maybe even more perfect that the you you are now. Maybe it crawls, maybe it walks on tip-toe, maybe it presents itself in a straightforward manner, as casual as a street encounter.

It shouldn't be there.

'You showed your Mark to both Joker-san and Shiryuu-kun in order to get close to them, didn't you? You wanted to be accepted, so you forced the issue.'

And Umie is no exception to that, though her being the source further compliments its power over her.

'That's the problem, right there. Neither of them can understand, Umie-chan. Not even sweet Kurou-kun.'

"....." It's not quite Mai-chan; this has her face, rather than the mocking monument to the person she was. It hurts, all the more.

'But me? You've known from the beginning who your heart belongs to.'

".... This is an illusion," Umie begins, in a mutter, raising her voice to the point of a painful crack. It comes from experience, having to constantly second-guess herself.

Badb's senses detect no shadow or demon, and that holds constant here as well.

".... Whatever you see... it's not real."

One hand clutches Kurou, reaffirming her grip and the trust held within, while the other will reach for Shiryuu, if he's close, attempting to interweave her fingers in his.

"... _No matter what it tells you_."

The Badb's wings spread out overhead in a flood of blue light, casting a shattering shriek over the intimate space.

But maybe it was just so she didn't have to hear it, anymore.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>

In the end, it's only when the young man's fingertips grace along the cold surface of a gravestone that he realizes what exactly he's seeing, the thing at the back of his mind the whole time.

Others intuit more than he -- Kurou is smarter; knows to share what he already knows. Umie is kinder -- she feels the child's obvious, plain loneliness, where Shiryuu sees only struts and magnifying lenses, feels only a miserable pit in his stomach.

But Shiryuu actually knows the child's name and why he is here, and it only occurs to him to give it voice when he touches that gravestone.

Umie's voice strikes the last chord in him, her broken heart moving the otherwise paralyzed shinobi to speak.

"....his name was Isato," Shiryuu says quietly, staying with Umie when Kurou steps away, numbly falling into place as if by pure instinct.

The ball bounces between Kurou and Isato, the ghost watching him with illusive eyes, the paraselene watching the shinobi curiously as he effortlessly weaves between the toxic flowers to return that ball to him. One could even say that the boy is soothed by his presence.

But he never smiles, does he?

... truthfully, Shiryuu hasn't spoken since the boy cut from moonlight, a silent, hyperaware vigil of a space that's so clearly bent, the ship that he knew crumpled up and flooded like a tin can clutched in a fist. His haori is still soaking wet and by all means and rights, he should have abandoned it ages ago. But the symbol of 'Ryouhara' is something the boy seems attached to wearing like a flag in the night, no matter how he wanders the halls. He entrusts Umie to Kurou and does his best to take point -- he is, if nothing, seemingly in solid condition.

Ryouhara's discipline is top-notch, and any vagary in his sense of balance is accounted for ruthlessly, the boy's stride cautious and doggedly persistent. It helps that these ... spaces they're making their way through are at the least idyllic, perfect and peaceful displays of architecture, no matter how familiar they may be.

Enough so that it's deeply alarming when Shiryuu finally runs across a space that doesn't seem connected to anything he knows. The boy stops short in his stride, finally and deeply disoriented. He looks up. Around. And along.

'What's the matter?' he asks himself.

How do you intend to get out of here? You don't recognize anything anymore. You might have cheated the first few times, but now your luck's run out... naa? Even worse yet... you've led everyone in after you. It would have been fine... if it were just you, right?

After all. You're *strong* ... naa?

No...? Maybe not. It'd be better, it'd be easier if you were. You wouldn't get everyone killed. It'd be easier if you were 'someone.'

Someone like ... me.

Shiryuu blinks, as the silver-haired genius snickers at him out of the corner of his eye. How fast was he? How long has be been there? He doesn't speak, but the shihaisha is very clearly fixating.

A genius, unparalleled and vaunted. A man sitting in the corner, propped against the wall, swathed in clothing. He's so powerful, they had to put a straitjacket on him. And yet it doesn't even matter at all, as the man's chin tilt into the collar of his sweater. He grins a scythe smile openly underneath his purple shades.

Pretty, empty-headed little pet...

'.... it's not real'

Umie's voice drifts in over Shiryuu's head like a voice above the water. He only hears a bit of it at a time, and only until her fingers entwine with his, only until he can feel the solidarity of the two of them, that warmth at his side can he forget about the wet chill setting deep into his bones.

Shiryuu blinks once, twice.
"....I don't see anything. I don't hear anything," the boy lies.

And spreads his free hand at his side.

Badb's shriek hits Shiryuu's resonance like a hammer. It's something particular to that boy -- not the light, but the sound of that creature's call gets plucked up, tuned to the right frequency, chopped, and dropped through his subconscious. The sound breaks, flickers, cycles, drifting off into the sky...

"...get ready."

...and then from the jade moon itself, that shriek is shot into the ground like an arrow, the high keen stroked from its treble all the way into thick, swollen digital bass. Through Shiryuu's resonance, the sound lands in rhythm with the flare of blue light like a vast hammer, heavy enough to shake loose every soul and ghost in earshot.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Something in Kurou tells him the game is important. For him. For the ghost. For Umie and Shiryuu to reaffirm one another's presence, side by side. It should be repite: a chance for the weight lifts and everyone can draw breath into their lungs without fear... but Kurou finds his heart aching. Isato. A boy who had a name. A boy who has a grave.

How many of them are there?

"Isato," Kurou repeats, because names have power. He does not smile, either. None could be blamed for thinking, if only for a moment, that two ghosts were at play. Once the game ends, Kurou bows to where the boy once was. "... Thank you for playing with me."

As they move on, he does not speak beyond any small warnings and direction to Umie if one step to the next should require an excess of care or weight to distribute differently. But this is still more voice than Shiryuu.

The gardens are beautiful, he thinks.
But beautiful things in a garden are often the most deadly, he also thinks.

This rule applies, most of all, to a still and beautiful world with no stars.

Everything was pieces of familiarity stitched together. In this new space, he remembers nothing. Is that so strange? There is so much he struggles to remember. But those things are fuzzy edged, like shapes you cannot quite make out in the dark, threatening to take on new shapes. This place is carved into reality and shining clear jade.

An illusion, Umie calls it. That makes sense... Illusions feel the most real of all.

Especially that walking corpse just outside his peripheral vision.

'There's no way back.'

Just a little lost. Everything's still okay.

'But you don't believe that.'

Couldn't he?

'Not with it haunting every step, or every time your fingers close around a teacup. You can fill the cracks with gold, but water will still fall through the missing pieces. It's a simple fact of life: sometimes things break, and they become useless."

It's not real. No matter what it tells you.

'Sometimes that thing is you.'

Umie's grip on him tightens, and Kurou's next breath in is audible for the sharpness of it. She and Shiryuu are navigators, resonate in a way Kurou isn't, with shrieks to pierce illusion, guided on a rhythm that thrums in a hammering pulse.

But if they say it isn't real... And if they say it isn't there...

Kurou looks his free hand in quiet contemplation before biting straight into it until a trickle of red oozes down the lines of his palm.

Well. ''That's'' real, and vivid, and demands the brain's immediate attention over almost anything else.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Overkill toward side::LUNA > The Moon; Pisces > MOON GAZING! Specialty!

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Blackbird's Bite toward side::LUNA > The Moon; Pisces > MOON GAZING! Bravery and
Focus!
MONAD: Umie Akabane has drawn a new Challenge!

(|================ Monad - The Inscrutable Region: Mizunagi ================|)
-==== Round 4: side.SOL .. track I .. MERCURY RECORD: "Doom Decide" - Challenge Level 2 -
| Approach Options: Academics or Understanding |
| Conditions: Stony - Understanding Down L2 and Terrifying - Guts Down L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The grind of a rack and pinion system draws open the battens with a heavy
turn of the handwheel, opening a bulkhead door into a separate compartment
of the ship. Much of the ship is a tangle of tilted industrial catwalks and
halls, the pale light spilling from the porthole windows mixing with the
flickering red glow of lanterns. But the tilt of the flooded ship outside
does not always conform to the space inside, disappearing and reappearing
between compartments. One full step past the bulkhead more than inverts the
path, impossibly twisting over 180 degrees into another time entirely.

The slide of the feudal-style manorhouse's shoji paper door clacks shut
behind. Dark crimson ahead sullies the tatami mats in the room, the pools
disturbed only by the drip of floodwater from an anachronistic tangle of
pipes overhead. Squelching static bleaches the light from the lanterns at
odd intervals.

"I was the first," he says into empty, uncaring space.

At the far side of the room, a noble thing in armor sits, knees folded in
seiza. A thing -- because there is no true indicium that it is a person at
all, a large brass beast ensconced in panels and ridges of samurai armor
made of origami. The black paper of his armor is scrawled over with white
ink, missives and protections in painfully alien cipher. He has only the
brass eyes of a man.

A katana lays across his lap, bound with a labyrinthine nest of bright
orange silk. The scent of flammable lotus oil is stark around the ribbon.
'TENZEN' is the name that howls in the wind though the timbers.

"A man is given a choice between his family's lives or his family's
future," that machine says, the mechanized growl hollow behind a mask. "One
choice preserves the lives of today. The other preserves the lives of
tomorrow. In one, you are a demon. In the other, a monster. Choose now, and
begone forever," he instructs. "Love, or duty."

The question is frustratingly ambiguous -- but he speaks as if the choice
has already been made for him, caring very little about the choice made
today. It's not the answer, but the conviction with which it is spoke that
can convince him to let you pass without burning you with the flaming mark
of a traitor.

"I was the first," he repeats, again.
Again, it doesn't matter at all.

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> "Isato," Umie repeats, after Kurou does. "... Did you know this was on this ship? Is this some sort of memorial...?" Kurou's direction and correction keeps her from being the one to disturb this place, at least; she doesn't object, either.

The Ryouharas are mysterious enough that something like this here, despite being so complex and hidden away, seems to make sense.

The garden being next had blown that notion out of the water.

'....I don't see anything. I don't hear anything.' Umie regards Shiryuu quietly, tired enough to let her gaze do the talking for her. And because that still isn't enough, she says something more. "... Liar," she says, with a half-grin, half-chiding, half affectionate, as if in the next moment she was going to run her fingers through his hair in a tease.

But that hand is currently intertwined with his, the other with Kurou, and that is where she finds herself needing to be.

There was nothing about the garden itself that called to her memories, save for the current of its appeal to traditional views and ways of life: pristine, controlled, quiet. A still, green-tinted world with no stars, where her true soul resided every night. Like Kurou's mind suggesting letting himself sink into the embrace of water when he first landed here, Umie's mind asks the same: curl up and lie here, and let the night take her.

Joker will be fine, won't he? And Ruin certainly... isn't... (No, Ruin's probably here too.)

How selfish can a girl be, to just want to lie down and wait for the next curtain to rise?! They don't even know why any of this... is!!

But she also feels it, a combining of resonance, a beat synchronizing with her own.

Shiryuu asked someone to listen, and here, Umie does, falling in sync with his. Her eyes fall closed, and she loses herself in that, rather than the night.

It spreads out like waves, ebbing and flowing, then falls into its natural coda, heartbeats bowing out after the performance.

Umie opens her eyes, and glances to Kurou, seeing the red on his palm.

".... You saw something too." Grabbing the last of her tissues, she hands it out to Kurou. "Here."

They have more to go before they can manage to see this through.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> 'Is it a memorial?'
"I don't know," Shiryuu replies, and it seems genuine.
"....none of this is supposed to be here."

Even so, that weary onmitsu watches them; Kurou and the boy, Isato. He watches them play for a lot longer than would be responsible.

It looks like you're lost again... what is it about these places that gives your sense of direction such fits when it's most important? Don't worry.... I'll always show you the way. Just follow in my footsteps.

Shiryuu's jaw is set, even where Umie accuses him of lying, even where Kurou knows to break illusion. Shiryuu takes any reply he could have made to her, and tips it in thick, chunky electronic bass until even the strongest's voice, at the back of his mind, fades.

"Kurou," Ryouhara finally says, as his touch lingers at Umie's hand subconsciously. "Be careful. We don't know if the ship's sickbay is even close yet." That touch lingers even beyond the borderline of reasonable assumptions of attention, as Shiryuu's hand only drops away from hers once he is well on his way to walking.

"If you injure yourself overmuch and the situation destabilizes, even with your jutsu...."

Destabilizes. Right. As if it couldn't be more unstable.

He pulls the batten open and steps into -- and through -- a shoji door, replacing thick, cold, wet iron with elegant rice paper, the catwalks having no relevance in the idyllic, feudal spaces they find themselves in. The boy in the wet haori steps into the space and -- is stopped by the machine laid in front of them.

The boy's derision is almost immediate, even before the sigh that sounds through the timbers to remind them of a name. "It's like our Kouhigoki," he notes, pointedly. In that way, it's almost like a memorial. But...

'A man is given a choice between his family's lives or his family's future...'

The scent of flammable oil reaches the senses just as Shiryuu moves.

"Tch." Shiryuu's teeth show as he pulls a knife with a four inch blade from his sash, and immediately steps forward to kill the huge machine with his bare hands and a tiny dagger, while it's still talking.

"Some of us should have chosen better," Shiryuu replies, mid-stride.

He's already made his decision.
</poem>

MONAD: Shiryuu Ryouhara has acted with Academics toward side.SOL .. track I .. MERCURY RECORD: "Doom Decide"! Base!

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
As Umie hands over the clean tissue, looks down at his bleeding hand. "But... It is not necessary..." He slowly shakes his head. "I do not think it was lying, but... You said not to listen. So I didn't."

Once Shiryuu tells him to be careful, any resistance over the tissue disappears. Kurou's head lowers, a little, as he apologetically accepts it to press into the self made bite marks on his palm.

"... Understood."

For his part, Kurou can think of a number of ways the situation could become more unstable. He steadies himself and Umie, and follows Shiryuu through the ship of patchwork gardens and feudal architecture. Surveying the machine, he only nods slowly, letting Shiryuu's words be the one that stand.

The wind is howling...

Shiryuu already moves to wield a dagger against the machine, and Kurou's muscles go taught, his jaw set firmer as his body begins to tremble with a rage that does not show on his face.

Kurou, as a dutiful shinobi, is often mistaken as having no opinions or desires of his own. It was a feather, loosened from his fingers, that spoke the loudest against these notions at is fell to the ground.

That judgment has not changed, and nor shall he accept a traitor's judgment.

''I was the first,'' the voice says, and the red in Kurou's vision fades just long enough for him to sense a different meaning than the one his rage wants to bite at. Concern calms Kurou's demeanor as he watches Shiryuu.

For a boy who wears little emotion on his face, there the sense of a sentence that cannot begin. Words he needs to say, but does not know how to form. For a long time, he is silent, only watching.

When he finally does speak, it is quietly.

"... I would not be here... if not for someone who chooses both."

Maybe that's too much to say with Zakuro's so fresh in their minds eyes. But there's a difference between a shinobi that falls in action, and the choice that had been made for so many of them.

There's a difference in how Shiryuu fights for their family's future. That's what Kurou believes.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Academics toward side.SOL .. track I .. MERCURY RECORD: "Doom Decide"! Base!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Nothing seems to be where it needs to be.

While the bandaging on Umie's gunshot wound has stabilized her enough for them to move, it's just a compromise between lying down and hoping help will come (which it will not), or recklessly ignoring it and hoping they find the sick bay before she hits a point of no return. And that's just what Umie is dealing with; they are all wounded. If Joker or Ruin are here... The ltter could be wounded someplace, yes, but if she loses too much blood, his actions will be meaningless, and she can't help him, or Shiryuu and Kurou, for that matter.

So she's surprised that she's been as helpful as she has been, so far, despite needing Kurou to move more effectively.

"You did good," Umie affirms, as Kurou applies the tissue to his wound. She couldn't see what either of them saw (if there was anything at all) but Kurou confirms it was *something*, at least. Even the fact that everyone was similarly affected was a bit of a guess-- born from what she was seeing, yes, but still a guess.

(... not that Umie is going to admit that it was a guess in front of Shiryuu. She can't let him win!)
(Umie'll let Shiryuu take the lead, though.)

The surroundings continue to be confusing, the soft Japanese quiet of the enclosed garden replaced with a network of black iron and pipes, clashing with the feudal surroundings.

It extends to the binary of the metal automata's speech, drawing a hard line between love and duty.

To choose between two things, drawn in ways where neither is what you want. To serve the family and community is key to helping all; Umie wouldn't necessarily argue with that as a whole. However, when an individual is cast aside, and the cruelty is overlooked in favor of a large picture only one person can see... it is the thing that draws a discordant note against Umie's ears.

She speaks up as the stranger, the third party whose bias lies in how her fingers earlier traced against Shiryuu's own until they had to move, and how her grip against Kurou's tightens, attempting to impart reassurance to that trembling rage written into his frame.

How did she end up like this, tying herself to two agents of the NWO? It comes in her reply.

"Sounds like you're the one that decided to frame things that way, and that there was only one way things could be. You drew two paths for yourself, and made it seem like some honorable sacrifice that you chose one over the other, and that others had to decide the same. Was it worth it, in the end? To curse everyone with your stubbornness?"

Just as she was, early on, sorting people into her enemy or her ally in regards to the NWO.

It's so much more complicated than that, isn't it? And she's still not sure if trying to make her own path really was that sound.

'... I would not be here... if not for someone who chooses both.' That 'someone' that Kurou references is clear in Umie's sight, as Shiryuu goes to make his stand, armed with only his knife.

She doesn't know any of the history here, but she feels she understands enough on where she wants to be.

The Badb that is Umie responds in turn, playing the role it has for millennia: responding to its favored warriors, inflaming the battleground's desire for blood, and seating itself among its corpses as the mistress of death.

"... Even a small knife can kill a giant, when in the hands of someone determined enough."
</poem>

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Bird's Eye View toward side.SOL .. track I .. MERCURY RECORD: "Doom Decide"! Automap!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== side.SOL .. track I .. MERCURY RECORD: "Doom Decide" - Round 4 ========-
Umie Akabane Academics Success
Bird's Eye View Automap Fatigue: 2 Morale: 4
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shiryuu Ryouhara Academics Success
Academics Base Fatigue: 1 Morale: 3
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Academics Success
Academics Base Fatigue: 2 Morale: 4
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Stony-2 and Terrifying-1
Final Conditions: Stony-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 3/6 |=== | ===================================================-
-==== Loot So Far: ==========================================================-
Items: 0, Money: 0, Gear: 2
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

MONAD: Shiryuu Ryouhara has drawn a new Challenge!

(|================ Monad - The Inscrutable Region: Mizunagi ================|)
-==== Round 5: side::LUNA > The Emperor; Aries > WEIGHT - Challenge Level 4 =-
| Approach Options: Guts or Proficiency |
| Conditions: Bless - +1 to Group Roll (Per Character), Reaper - Add 1 |
| Fatigue., Stony - Understanding Down L2, Stony - Understanding Down L2, |
| and Terrifying - Guts Down L2 |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

(BGM: https://youtu.be/FjSydTHktq4 "Other Mix 2-5" - Persona 2 Eternal
Punishment OST)

An oppressive shade of deep crimson dominates the chamber. Black bordered
panels line the top half of the room, while the lower half is decorated with
painted panels, though the lighting makes it difficult to see what's
depicted on them. Before anyone even thinks of escaping, the sliding doors
behind you shut tight with a sharp clack.

In the second half of the room is a wooden shrine on a small platform,
with a sloped roof and a small set of stairs leading up. Whatever is inside
is obscured by a heavy sudare screen, but the more you try to make sense of
it, the more it feels like an anomaly, glitching and shifting like a broken
signal, full of sharp edges and black static. Stare at it too long, and your
mind will fill it in with something you fear.

Whatever it is (or what your mind paints it as), it's about to notice you,
and you will not appreciate its attention.

Whatever you do, don't let it see you.

The fear alone may make some freeze, while the resourceful may try to hide
or obscure the being's sight. More courageous souls might walk forward and
destroy the screen, but find nothing but a collapsed pile of rusted metal.
Bear the weight of being perceived or do your best to escape its notice
until the gears outside turn again, and you are able to leave.

(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> Love, or duty.

'Sounds like you're the one that decided to frame things that way, that there was only one way things could be.'

"You stood for the oppressed, when no one else would," he acknowledges, quietly.

There is no indicator that they, Kurou nor Shiryuu -- should even recognize the huge machine, half again the size of a man and easily Shiryuu's height even sitting on the ground. It is, in truth, the scent of the ninkou that he carries that identifies him first -- a massively scaled up version of Karenkyouhoujin, a sword that uses a resistant wicking cloth soaked in lotus oil to cast dazzling walls of fire. Ironically, when Tenzen stands before him to banish him, even Shiryuu looks small.

"In that way, you were an exemplary Hogarasu in your time," the strangled, one-eyed boy with the stringy grey hair commends the machine, meeting him one eye to two, little knife gripped in hand.

'...I would not be here, if not for someone who chooses both.'

Ryouhara's jaw sets, as his remaining eye closes.

"...but when it came time to do so again, your resolve broke."

"Tenzen. For what you were ...this is 'thank you.'"

The machine looks up grimly, between the two faces who have passed their judgment. Not of the choice they must make, but of the one he made. In the end, the spark from the machine's glove never reaches the cloth, before four inches of steel cuts the hydraulic lines of its suspension.

"....."

It doesn't matter at all, does it?

The response is almost immediate, with another shoji slamming shut behind the group, Another, and then another... the tatami lengthen, and oil that looks too much like blood disappears, along with the assassinated Hogarasu before his killer. Vertigo lurches into the pits of every stomach, and bodily throws a hallway of doors through the three, slamming every open door behind them until --

####
$$$$
!!!!

Static fades and glitches, eating up the air they breathe. Without another step, they're dropped wholesale into a room that replaces the old one entirely, bearing passing resemblance to it only in the fashion that a kitchen bears a resemblance to that same kitchen after someone's been butchered in it. A pale red haze descends like a pillow over the face, pins of ill intent breaking into evey nerve and bone.

The austere weight of judgment and abhorrent purity is intense here, mocking the same judgment that was passed only minutes ago, a foul aftermath and miasma redolent fatally of this space where you are inexorably led.

A decision was made, and you were not part of it.
And now it doesn't matter at all.

The weight of space hits Shiryuu like a hammer, his tired stance rocking him back a half step as the way is simply replaced by a shut door. For a cold blooded instant, he fears. Is the choice right? Resolve replaced nigh immediately with doubt, and the world stretches, snapped tight to another 'axis' entirely in a mechanical half-printing overlaid on the first, one second overexposed onto the next as Shiryuu's gaze is forced -up.-

To stairs, to a closed wooden curtain, shifting with what he interprets as open malice. "...eh??"

He stares, and then looks back, and then looks forward, the funeral pallor and gravity of the situation beginning to set into his bones. The boy looks up, looks around, his eye aching in its socket as he shuts it tighter, fixating up onto the massive panels above along the upper edges of the room. Everywhere he looks, static bleeds into every corner, imagined judgment in every panel.

The thing behind that sudare threatens everything around him. Is it Ruin? It will leave him alone and alive, to contemplate the trail of bodies he leaves in his wake. A child, balling their fists and screaming.

No one will hear.

"H...hey," Shiryuu says, an unbalanced quiver in his voice. "Don't... give up."
"...don't hesitate..."

The boy raises his bloodied (?!) hands and presses his palms around the tiny handle of his knife, raising his fingers just below his left eye. His voice barely makes it, in the tidal wave of nihilism that reminds him that _it doesn't matter, didn't you hear the first fucking time!?_

The kegare causes blood to spatter openly at his feet.

"I'm going to bring down a panel... use your longest range techniques to make sure it lands where it's supposed to."

In front of? Behind? On? Shiryuu can't even put enough of a thought together for that much. Just move. Don't think about it. Trust your instincts.

The onmitsu forces his bloody shearingly blue eye open one more time.
</poem>

MONAD: Shiryuu Ryouhara has acted with Shinsoku toward side::LUNA > The Emperor; Aries > WEIGHT! Escape and Efficient!

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> If the last room was something that fell in the twilight realm of something Umie feels she understands but could not be sure of, this is in the harsh spotlight on a cruel stage she didn't want to be a part of.

It feels grossly intentional, this room. The real thing that spawned this little nightmare space looks nothing like this save for the little wooden shrine, which in itself is a construct of traditional Japanese practices. It's larger than it should be, but doesn't that make it easier for the thing inside to be the shape you need it to be, rather than the smaller, more impotent object that occupied it, in reality?

The same goes for the crimson color of this room, a product of a religious bonfire reinterpreted through a barely-remembered collage of a child's memory of something that falls beyond adult understanding.

If only Umie Akabane had the understanding and foresight Tatsuzou did and still does; this room would have been so much grander, a beacon to a pure world.

*CLACK*

The doors shut behind the group. Kurou will feel Umie's grip on him slacken and fall away.

In Umie's mind, the social structures, calming rituals, and bonds dissolve away, leaving a skeletal credo of panicked, animal survival. She draws her hands against the wet broken mask, pressing it down with a mechanical logic, like a child throwing a blanket against the monster under her bed.

Or maube it's for the sake of keeping those hands close to her mouth, muffling whatever sound her throat may be trying to express.

Like a twisting, tightening rope, tensions build, and then, with a half-heard grunt, it all releases.

Like in the past, the Badb materializes, infusing the tense air with a shrieking fury that embodies one half of the two processes within her: an overwhelming anger that needs to be demonstrated, selfish in its desire to do violence, lonely in its helplessless to exert change. .... Then there is the crouching girl, wobbling back, trying to open the door.

'H...hey. Don't... give up. ...don't hesitate...' *drip, drip, drip* Umie can hear the drop of blood and the miasma of kegare. What is Shiryuu doing?

A plan and a goal is laid out, and Umie looks over, hood exposing one scared eye.

These are not a child's hands on the door, but ones with red nails, painted the color she wants, with chips and cuts where she ran up the ship to keep with Joker. Calluses from use, worn in places that were felt with a loving thumb, as she felt the calluses on Shiryuu's own. These are hands that tried to clean Kurou's face as he looked like the entire world fell in on him in that clocktower.

These hands had the audacity to try to block the visor of a man who tried to kill her, and may still succeed, if she lets herself become overwhelmed with fear.

It's a small spark of light to go by, but Umie will use it to guide her way out. Instinct and force, moving forward? That is where the Badb shines.

Badb's shrieking and thrashing stills, the disparate effort condensed into a forward effort, as Umie ignores the door entirely, pointing her fingers towards the flickering, unknown thing.

"Persona."
</poem>

MONAD: Umie Akabane has acted with Blackbird's Bite toward side::LUNA > The Emperor; Aries > WEIGHT! Bravery and Focus!

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Umie points out the fallacy. The only way things could be... as if these things should be different things at all. As if one can be sacrificed to feed the other. To think that way...

... It's why they're in this sorry state, with Shiryuu left to clean up their mess, and those who still remain struggling to see his will done under the stain of old contracts.

Kurou's face shows no emotion as he watches Shiryuu give his gratitude and farewells to the crow of fire, and his own respect. This, too, is why Shiryuu is Shirogarasu. Kurou does not know if he could see kindness in the shapes of his soul, or even wear it as a mask, in such a moment.

With a knife, the machine is done, and Kurou's rage drains completely.

If only he could have found some way to hold onto it before the shoji slammed shut, and everything lurched into static. Kurou falls into red pain and begins to drown. He reaches to catch hold of Umie, but his fingers rake through the pins and needles of empty air.

In the static, he hears the end of a staff hit the ground, the vibration reverberating across the chamber. In his periphery, he thinks he sees a toy or model of a shrine.

It makes Kurou's muscles stop.

The staff ''thunks'' again and Kurou's gaze, without having to move, without daring to move, is thrust upon glitched darkness that threatens to come into focus: a silhouette dancing behind a screen, or a shape behind him, casting its shadow on it.

It makes Kurou's lungs stop.

Pupils shrink and dart, but cannot be pried away. His focus betrays him, trying to make the shape mean something while every instinct and memory reminds him what happens once he finally recognizes the face that means to judge him.

It makes Kurou's

h e a r t

stop.

He clutches his chest with his hand, squeezing his fingers in. And squeezing. And squeezing. And squeezing to the rhythm of a manual beat. Breaths drag out of his throat like razor blades. The next step he forces himself to take collapses under him as if the bone had shattered in his leg.

As if he had no bones at all.

"G... Gash... G..."

He claws at his own throat for his scarf. But he cannot speak the name. He cannot find his grip. He cannot dare tear his hand away from his chest and stop squeezing his own blood through his veins. Darker and darker the world grows, and there is no ground to stand on. There is no edge to grab. There is n o t h i n --

''Don't give up.''
''Don't hesitate.''

A shriek cuts the darkness, and Kurou sees a hooded woman with pallid skin shield his vision from what almost becomes clear in the dark.

In perfect silence, his own heartbeat drowning out every sound, Kurou launches the chain of his ninkou, guided by instinct alone, with claw poised to strike at the panel with Shiryuu's command, and prepared to yank it to finesse it into place with the kind of brutality only fear can inspire.

</poem>
MONAD: Kurou Ryouhara has acted with Overkill toward side::LUNA > The Emperor; Aries > WEIGHT! Specialty!

(|============================ Monad - Results =============================|)
-==== side::LUNA > The Emperor; Aries > WEIGHT - Round 5 ====================-
Umie Akabane Guts Success
Blackbird's Bite Bravery and Focus Fatigue: 2 Morale: 5
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shiryuu Ryouhara Proficiency Success
Shinsoku Escape and Efficient Fatigue: 2 Morale: 4
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kurou Ryouhara Guts Success
Overkill Specialty Fatigue: 2 Morale: 5
-============================ Party Conditions: =============================-
Starting Conditions: Bless-0, Reaper-0, Stony-1, Stony-2, and Terrifying-2
Final Conditions: Stony-1 and Terrifying-1
-====================================== Party Result: Success: Reach Up! ====-
-==== Reach: 5/6 |=====| ===================================================-
-==== Loot So Far: ==========================================================-
Items: 0, Money: 0, Gear: 2
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

(|================ Monad - The Inscrutable Region: Mizunagi ================|)
-==== Round 6: side.SOL .. track XXI .. EARTH RECORD: "The Forge") - Challenge Level 1 -
| Approach Options: None |
| Conditions: Chest - Add 2 Item/Money/Gear. and Revelation - The best |
| result. |
-==== Challenge =============================================================-

The harsh clang of iron rings through the core of the ship. A baleful
ember-red glow permeates the vast core -- past a certain perimeter, it is
formless, featureless and vast, the web of pipe and conduit from the other
decks curling into the furnace-bleached white void at the far forward side.

Tumbled and harshly bent, the catwalk paths surrounding the ship's furnace
are asymmetric and chaotic, sketching out a loose path above the iron floor,
where multiple mechanical statues gather around a single focal point.
Shinobi and samurai alike, the armed and armored statues take various
positions across the ground, some standing with hands clasped together in
kuji-kiri hand-seals, others frozen in place holding weapons that glow with
spangled auras of nightbound starlight.

At the center of the statues lay a final mechanical man, frozen in mid-blow
with his hammer driven into a ingot on the anvil, the ingot held in place by
the fierce grip of a set of foundry tongs. Fireflies made of origami flutter
around the impact point, as if mimicking sparks from the impact.

Every so often, a machine will arrive from another part of the ship.
Insensate to your presence, the automaton samurai will forcibly drag a
squealing monster of some sort caught elsewhere in the ship to a circle of
arcane seals on the ground before the sweltering crucible. Once there, the
beast will be forced to kneel, and the machine will settle into a full lotus
position at the foot of the sealing circle. Then, the machine will put its
hands together and begin to murmur a wordless incantation.

If you watch this for long enough, the white, sweltering void will churn
into a deep, shining, crystalline blue, its light dyeing the beast black,
until it breaks apart into black crows, fluttering and cackling through the
forge. Once it does, a new item will materialize into a stand just in front
of the smithy, blotting out the light around it with an eerie starlight
radiance.

The machines around seem to exalt you, respecting your strength. Taking a
newly forged item from the stand will open the way out, a torii gate
standing at the end of a great, black, lonely path.

(OOC: Send a @mail to Shiryuu if you need help deciding what random loot
you get!)

Final Loot: 2 Items and 2 Pieces of Gear!
(|=========================================================== Monad 1.1 ====|)

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> A stronger person would have said something better.
A better person would be able to assuage the pain of his friends.

That child in Akita shouts, as loud as he can. And they break under the weight, one at a time. Shiryuu feels it acutely, in ways that he would not had been able to any other day -- any other place. But to be caught in this sunken hell of a memorial to every poor decision they ever made, wet, bleeding and aching, after being forced to watch the people at his back die, it imposed a uniquely piercing kind of understanding upon him.

It would be one thing to die ingloriously, overpowered and dispensed with as trash. It would be another thing entirely to watch these people around him do the same, and be unable to do anything about it. His Persona is miles away from his grasp, his only weapon remaining being a tiny knife, soaked with oil that this place was trying to tell him was blood. He's all but broken, his skull aching.

But he is alive. They are still alive, he reminds himself.

That's enough, for now.

The static haze over his milky iris makes the intense red light only lightly less hard on his left eye as he forces it open, the muted pupillary response from the color causing his eye to reflexively water at the intensity, the sheen of the lens installed over it crackling and arcing with white lightning over the fine silver wire lanced into the sclera, until those clear tears run cloudy pink, then thick, vicious red. The boy utters something, a small subvocal chant that has nothing to do at all with ninjutsu.

He focuses hard, even as the crows scream above him, and their herald -- her Persona -- battles the very air itself in full revolt.

"It's ... it's fine.."
Kyotosaigan glows more fiercely. His blood spatters the ground, as his stomach threatens to upend itself, turning sour and churning in blatant warning. Shiryuu almost vomits, as he tries.

Focus, he says to himself.

What would that boy behind him think of him if he broke, here?
Would he ever see her again, if they became lost in this space?
Wasn't it he, who started this...?

Focus. "... never hesitate," he repeats.

Shiryuu breathes outward, and takes a step ninety degrees to the world.

From an external perspective, the boy with grey hair seems to split, glitching to the left mid-step before a hundred steps are folded into one, and he crosses across the room and up in an instant, clinging to one of the huge panels suspended high up in the room by a single bare arm. Objectively, he doesn't have what it takes, not really -- a wet, ragged boy stabbing fiercely at the track and nail holding the wood sheet in place while holding on for dear life. But he is doggedly persistent.

Persistent enough to pry the panel loose a nail at a time with that little knife and the force of his body weight. He falls, the panel tumbling end over end after him. He'll likely land on his feet.

The rest is up to them.

The clawed end of the chain whirls in, sinking deep into the heartwood, Kurou's aim deadly, true, to right the panel in the air, to tractor it into alignment, to aim it true. And in the next, Badb's talons seize it roughly, her keening shriek winnowed down into vicious silence.

With the finality of a door slamming shut, the panel too slams over the curtain, replacing shades with a wall, guided into place and sealed with a Persona's power. Whatever was on the other side never gets the chance to lay eyes on them.

Then and only then will gears churn in the ship's belly, peeling open the path from panels like a sectioned orange.
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> When Kurou needed Umie, Umie had pulled away, leaving his hands with nothing.

There will be moments later when Umie will look back at this and feel deep regret; however, that will be in hindsight, as the Umie of now is still gathering the pieces of her full self.

But it still comes back, for Kurou, in how the ghastly dark grey cape and blue-veined legs of the Badb fall over him, blocking his sight of the thing his mind constructs.

The Badb is the Badb, but it is also Umie. The protective bent to her methods becomes reasserted twice over as she remembers -- is reminded -- of the things that child never had. That, as well as what she wants to exert, by being the person Tamaki once explained herself as being: the person she wished she had, back then.

The impulses and cause and effect is still there; this is just a small victory earned over a split-second impulse that turned out to be the right one.

The instinct to resist, to push back, is so fiercely intertwined inside her.

Foolishly, Umie moves, one hand held over her wound, her path consistent until she's able to fall to Shiryuu's side in a rough embrace. The kegare burns like a needle in her mind's eye, continually reminding Umie that is it there, and that she still has no clue what any of it means.

Shiryuu's back will feel wet, as sobs unhinge themselves from the alcove inside Umie's chest, falling out like the crush of sea foam against the shore.

*clang* *clang* *clang* *clang*

In the stilled silence, the mind will naturally fall on whatever it can hear, be it the muffled heartbeat of the person Umie is lying on, or the clang of something being hit.

"..." She doesn't want to move. Like before, she wants to lie there, forever.

But the Badb in her is a restless thing, uneager to spend time wasting away. So, she draws back, and slowly walks forward. '... Gonna scout," she mumbles. "Something... weird is up ahead." There was a signal, of a shadow or demon, and it had disappeared.

The rough edges of her latent senses can only make out so much, but going there, she realizes the blatent truth.

It's like a demonstration at a forge, with a mindless shadow, having fallen into this strange place, being reforged into something anew. The moment the machine is done, the machines all around the group bend in quiet exaltation.

"I think... they want us to take it."

A way clears, leading to a lonely torii gate.

"... I think we're going to be okay, for now, guys."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
He didn't catch Umie's fingers. His hand couldn't find his throat, and was clutched to his chest, unable to find her. He could barely hear Shiryuu. His body was good for very little but obedience.

This time, in his favor.

This time, not lost in darkened hours, but enveloped in a cloak that reminds him of fuzzy blankets.

This time, the haze lifts, and he breathes.

In the end of it all, Kurou is unseen unless one looks down to see him huddled. He grips Soumeiunsatou in one hand, thumb lifted from the hilt and pressed deep into the meat that connects his shoulder to his torso. His other hand claws into his hair, head tucked down, nails biting into his scalp, and chain held to drape over his back like a cold weight.

Breathe.

Umie sobs, and it makes Kurou aware of how much his body begs to let go of the tension and doesn't know how.

Breathe.

They are still alive.

That ''is'' enough, for now.

He hopes that he remains unseen until he finally picks himself up from the floor. When his head lifts, his expression is still unchanged, but his face is soaked.

Even so, his voice is steady.

"Then we take it, and we hurry."

She still needs medical attention, after all.

</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
<poem> Aa. There is much to regret tonight.

His fingers slide into the spaces between hers. By the time it's all over, Shiryuu is on the ground in a crouch, breathing slowly. The foul miasmatic pressure that stained every corner of the space red seems to be lifted, and for a moment Ryouhara's shoulders can lift. The kegare level of his ninkou still clings like needles to vast swaths of his skin under his coat, but it's not something he pays attention to now, even when her weight lands on him like a bag of wet sand, soaking his damp haori anew.

What, really, can he say? Is that ... something he even can understand? It's outside the realm of pretty, empty headed creature.

No.. don't think about it.

"....hey..." Shiryuu starts uneasily, his voice still tired and unsteady.

"...'m going to win, if you let your guard down like this."

Shiryuu squeezes that hand lightly. His is a watery attempt at a smile. Quite pointless, really, and it's probably lucky that Umie, at least, never has the chance to see it. Shiryuu gives his glance over to Kurou as he fixes his expression into something far more grim and flat, painfully lifting himself up after her. Umie doesn't get far -- Shiryuu moves at the same cadence she does, getting a shoulder underneath her pointedly.

"...you guys. Acting like you're invincible too," Ryouhara observes, grimly. It's both noting the current moment, and the tacit acknowledgment that they decided to come at all. It's a rueful sort of acknowledgment, stated flatly, though it would be a mistake to ascribe anything but endearment to the observation.

His left eye is a red mess, and absent his will to force it open, the swollen thing is staying intractibly shut.

"mmh...rebels and malcontents," the shihaisha decides, unilaterally.

"...one foot in front of the other," he agrees with Umie. "Come on. We have to get home so I can decide your fates.."

The machines seem to exalt them in the light of the forge ahead, one by one recognizing and hailing their presence. It's a wild, eerie coordination to behold. The boy stares with one wondrous eye, and for once, even the elite ninkousha doesn't _quite_ know the totality of what he's looking at. "Aa... a." It's almost all he can muster, when Umie recognizes gifts for what they are.

Then, ironically, Kurou is the first to make a decision.

"...yeah, you're right," Shiryuu agrees. He finally drops his little knife there, in the forge, as if it were an offering. He lifts a hand to Kurou, for him to take.

"...let's go. You lead, this time."
</poem>

<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem> Fear and tears: two things Umie *hates* showing. At the same time, she is allowed to, by the same machinations that would rope off such things to people like Shiryuu, Kurou, and beyond that, Joker, though what lies underneath each of their own reasons will be different.

"... finnnnne....." Umie mumbles into Shiryuu's back, as he mentions something about 'not letting him win'.

They all make their way out through the torii gate, and into chilly winter air.

There is nothing behind them but a normal alleyway between two buildings, while up ahead, there is a sign.

---NARUMI MEMORIAL HOSPITAL---

Seeing the double doors, lit from the inside against the late night, is all Umie needs before her strength begins to flag.

No, there's something she needs to do, first. Slipping a half-gloved hand into her coat, she unearths a cell phone and punches in a message or two. as she looks up.

>> you ok??? at Nareumihospital
>> will b ok, u b safe
>> talk later

She flips it closed, her body sagging with a sigh. She looks up...
And up.
And... up.

".... why is there a ship... here..." she says, wavering. "... Are we... still there?"

There is a ship embedded in the side of the hospital, joined in place in a way that feels unnatural, like it had just been phased into being. This late at night, people are moving and rushing around, with the distant wails of emergency sirens.

"Someone's injured! Three of them! Over here!" A man in hospital scrubs notices the three of them, seeing the bloom of blood on Umie's chest, the red dripping from Shiryuu's eye, and Kurou's overall state. "Get them to the south entrance, we can figure out where to transfer them later!"

If Shiryuu and Kurou want to leave, this'll be their only chance. However, there's one problem: Umie's now sagging against Shiryuu with her full weight, mumbling something about 'you win'.

The boat was too much, it looks like.
</poem>
[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]

2026-07-10: A Memorial of Mistakes

2026-07-13T22:47:17Z

Tanyuu: Created page with "*'''Log: A Memorial of Mistakes''' *'''Cast:''' Shiryuu Ryouhara, Umie Akabane, Kurou Ryouhara *'''Where:''' A Strange Place *'''OOC Date:''' July 09, 2026 *'''IC Date:''' December 07, 2012 *'''Summary''': ''Right after the [https://www.velvetroom.wiki/index.php/2026-07-09:_Zenkokourou the fight in Sumaru Bay], Shiryuu, Kurou, and Umie find themselves in a strange place that none of them are familiar with. However, the same cannot be said of the place itself,..."