2025-08-23: POTEBO CHIP
- Log: POTEBO CHIP
- Cast: Masao Inaba, Tsubasa Seki
- Where: Hirasakan Streets - By Kasugayama
- OOC Date: 2025-08-23
- IC Date: Saturday, June 30 2012
- Summary: Masao encounters Tsubasa as they're walking home from school, and introduces them to the glories of the American potato chip. It's a life-changing experience. Also, Tsubasa updates Masao about what they know of the attack on Kasugayama, as well as everything they've heard about what's going on in other schools, like Sevens -- and Masao continues encouraging Tsubasa's love of art, as well as showing them his own artworks in progress.
<Pose Tracker> Masao Inaba has posed.
It's in the afternoon as school starts to let out for the high schoolers, and Masao "Mark" Inaba is a few streets out at best from Kasugayama High's grounds as he's holding a trio of fanciful-looking cards up in the air. These cards are... entirely normal, no matter the immaculate amount of linework and painting put into the fanciful depictions of flame, electricity, or wind. Based on the pensive look on the grown-up graffiti artist's face, that might in fact be something of a problem even if at face value these are excellent pieces of artwork that showcase his skills with more traditional mediums.
When you're given an advance payment to try and recreate something you never had the idea to try to do yourself prior, well... it's frustrating to a man who identifies himself, body, mind, and soul, as an artist.
"...I'll have to speak with her 'bout what I already tried with 'em," he murmurs aloud. Still. Life is going on, as it does, even when all sorts of weird, frightening, and deadly things just keep happening all about, and now there's been a real bit of trouble with some mafia guys raising hell for Hirasaka Ward businesses*.
* The Inaba Dry Cleaners had them show up. They were, against the trend of how they'd been shaking this part of Sumaru City down, unfailingly polite. Who knows why.
...That's a story being told elsewhere, for now.
Until then, there's an open bench calling for his seat and his bag of convenience store snack stuffs as he lets the overcast skies - and minutes - pass by over his head.
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
Tsubasa's on the way home from school, because, of course, they have to RELEASE THE HOUNDS. They're in the boy's uniform, and somehow, they've avoided getting detention for that today -- what with Kasugayama not being known for its GID-inclusive policies and quite thoroughly choking on the idea that a girl would wear pants from their perspective, they do end up wasting time after school staring down the teacher who drew the short straw, sometimes. Today, though, they're unscathed, bottom half of their shirt unbuttoned and tied over their midriff as they wear their pants low on their hips as a challenge to the state itself...
... you know, unscathed, aside from the massive scarring over the right side of their body. It's all covered up with fake tan and concealer, but it's not a perfect disguise. Their mullet is perfect, though, all in white and cyan and magenta and yellow.
(Man, that's an easy story, you just don't fuck with dry cleaning.)
Hands jammed in their pockets, Tsubasa kicks a can ahead of themself in the street, and its rattling as it hits the wall announces them before they look up from their slouch to -- well, they were looking to see where it landed, but that same glance let them see Masao. They think, for a moment, and then divert their path over to amble closer to his bench.
"Yo, Mark-san," they call, lifting a hand from their pocket to wave. Devastatingly cool.
<Pose Tracker> Masao Inaba has posed.
An artist's mind churns tumultuously looking for that missing detail that'd make these cards pop.
Then, a can rattles around the street. 'Yo, Mark-san.'
"Ah, hey, hey. Tsubasa-san. Guess it is 'bout the hour everyone gets out, huh?" He leans back from his bench seat to look over to a familiar voice and - in a flash of the periphery of recognition - a flash of colors that were present that fateful evening in Kasugayama High in that near-death experience with a gothloli would-be axe murderer.
...
He still works up a good, genuine, wide smile that his young adulthood hasn't taken from him yet. "Good to see you," he raises a hand. "...How've things been?"
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
Tsubasa shrugs. "Eh. Back at school." What? They're glossing over everything just like that?! Of course they are; they're cool.
"Yeah, mostly," they add, because of course maybe a few students at Kasugayama still try to have clubs despite everything, and then of course there are the students in detention, of which there are always some.
They rub at the back of their neck, though, as they look up to Masao. "Uh... you?" They ask, a touch more awkwardly. "Y'know, you got beat down pretty bad that day, so... you were cool?" How strange that they remember -- or at least apparently do.
(Don't pay any attention to the fact that Tsubasa was worried about him.)
<Pose Tracker> Masao Inaba has posed.
'Eh. Back at school.'
"Heh. Yeah, I know that one," he only graduated high school a few years ago. The memory is still reasonably fresh in the tide of Adult Responsibility Bullshit, still. It is, verbally, somewhat beating around the bush in terms of what happened that night.
'Uh... you?'
The grown-up's expression softens some. Just as he's thinking about how to relay the Artist Struggle to another undergoing that choice in life-
'Y'know, you got beat down pretty bad that day, so... you were cool?'
Masao blinks. Yeah, that did happen. They were there that evening, too, then what he saw somewhere beyond the veil of flames when what was going on...!
He lowers his head and starts to rub the back of it himself. "Y-Yeah. I'm not gonna sugercoat that, that shit was... well. Makes me thankful I'm still here, yeah?"
"...Y'need to sit down? I got some snacks, like... some American-style potato chips they started carryin' in the 777 not far from here." An invitation to sit down and talk about what they saw, what they felt, and what they just went through.
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Ch-yeah." Everyone just expects you to be back at school even after a huge attack like that. Come on, what kind of guy says 'yesterday was a terrible tragedy, but you must still go to school today', anyway?!
(The camera cuts briefly to Minato... who's busy having a nap in the library. Shh!)
Just as Tsubasa's wondering if, shit, was that too awkward, should they have just pretended the serial killer never happened -- he offers them a seat. And snacks. "Uh, sure," Tsubasa says, planting themself down on the other end of the bench.
"Glad you... got through it. Death Boss got through that shit. Uh, big sis -- uh -- the chick with the stick," who Tsubasa just called 'ane-san', which is clear gang language, really -- "she's cool too. So's the Ogre. And, uh, the kid... his name's Atsushi Kazama... he'll be okay. Gon be fucked for a while, tho'. Jun-kun's copin', too, so..." Oh, hey, Tsubasa upgraded their address with that guy! Apparently almost dying with someone forges a stronger Social Link, who knew. (Mark, probably.)
"... dunno about the famous chick, but, uh, guess she's fine? She's gotta be like, loaded, so..." So Eriko can pay for the very best in 'I was just attacked by a serial killer' recovery, probably. "Ain't seen the mouthy chick who looked more like she was goin' to a party than a fight, neither, but I guess she'd probably punch death in the face, so whatever." Oh, hey, that must be Ulala.
<Pose Tracker> Masao Inaba has posed.
The older artist between them fishes out the small bag of American-style potato chips. They're salty! They're greasy. Somehow, moreso. But they're so good, and for a guy who spent a few years in America and had a great time for his stay, he's going to take any excuse to have some more!
But today, he can share. So he will.
He hears out Tsubasa's breakdown of how everyone did after that. He knows the gang language, he had his own in his school years!
He exhales a 'whew' at the mention about the kid that almost died there. "That's good he'll pull through. Shit, no one deserves that." He makes sure not to talk over Tsubasa beyond the commentary.
"The 'famous chick'? Oh, y'mean Kirishima...! We went to high school together. We go back!" He smiles. "...Yeah, it was touch and go there for a while, but, we made it out all right." This may be harder to believe in Eriko's and Shinobu's cases compared to Mark, but even he looked like he wasn't far from death's door even standing upright to the would-be last.
"...That last one, uh, yeah, that sounds like her." He sits up a bit again. "'Jun-kun,' that was... that was the guy that other one was talking to, wasn't he." There was something going on there with the screaming and he doesn't know if knowing the context would've made it easier for him to sleep that night.
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
Tsubasa... steals a potato chip.
And eats it!!!
"... pretty good," they aside, in between everything else. Actually, they're delicious, but it would be lame to be too into it. (It would also be lame not to use ableist slurs to describe their feelings. Give them a few years.)
And, "Yeah," Tsubasa agrees, on the topic of Atsushi. "Not like I know him, but..." ... so they got themself all bloody and hurt trying to carry out a kid they didn't even know, huh.
Tsubasa's face scrunches up, a bit, when Mark points out that all adults know each other. "Oh, yeah? ... guess it makes sense if you showed up together. You guys make a habit of runnin' towards explosions, or what?" That's still why Tsubasa thinks the adults showed up.
"Uh, yeah -- Jun Kashihara," Tsubasa introduces him properly, shrugging a shoulder. (And stealing another chip.) "That rat bastard who attacked him's apparently tryin' to act like he's his friend, now," and their tone darkens, as they speak of Tatsuya Suou, as if he's so bad they oughta add a D to his name. "Tried to warn him, but... Jun-kun don't remember shit about what happened. Reckon he can't, really. Like -- I tried to tell him, and -- no dice. He said he'd be careful, at least..."
<Pose Tracker> Masao Inaba has posed.
"I know, right? Used to eat this stuff a lot in New York," and it's maybe for the best that it's not as easily accessible back home in Japan. No matter how much it hits the 'brain says good, tasty, have, eat eat eat eat aet eet aaet no backspace eat' button.
Still... it's a good question to ask, do they really make a habit of running towards explosion?
"I wouldn't say that," except it kind of has been since he's been acclimating to the increasingly openly bizarre life of Sumaru City, "it's more, I really ain't the kinda guy who'd just stand back and let that sorta thing happen." That's easy for a lot of people to say, until it's life and death.
His expression relaxes as Tsubasa goes into detail about what was going on with Kashihara. He just shakes his head. "...After somethin' like that, I don't blame him. I'm hopin' he'll be okay goin' forward, and... that goes for you and everybody else goin' there."
There's Demons there at night. It hits way too close to him for what happened years ago, and there's no clear sign as to why it is or how to stop it.
He has himself another chip.
"I'll keep an eye out for anything like that shit that just went down," he says as he shuffles those three striking cards somewhere more in view idly as he digs in the bag for some manner of soda he also bought.
...
"Did ya get up to any new tags or pieces since?"
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
AET POTEBO CHIP. Tsubasa does, in fact, steal another. "Nyuuyouku, huh," they absolutely butcher the pronunciation, because despite their father's best efforts they've never retained a lick of English. "They big on potato farms or somethin'?"
TSUBASA. IT'S ONE OF THE BIGGEST CITIES IN AMERICA. JESUS CHRIST.
"Uh, you realise you just said it wasn't like that and then said it was totally like that, right?" Tsubasa asks, fixing Masao with a quizzical expression. (It's a little harder to tell, given how they don't have eyebrows, but somehow they communicate their teenage scepticism.) "... that's cool, though."
They shrug, though, looking forward again. "I'm... cool," and there's a bit of a beat between heft and hammer which speaks to the hesitancy of the artisan, there. They think they're being subtle; after all, they said they're cool.
"... there's some talk online about how Sevens got wrapped up in some kinda shit yesterday," they volunteer, a touch more slowly. "Like, after most folks went home, I guess... well, wouldn't check it out if you put a gun to me head, but apparently whatever it was was right as fuckin' rain today. Like, there were posts about how people were gettin' ready to head to a disaster site, only to show these pictures of everythin' bein' chill... fuckin' A, I dunno. I ain't a Rumourmonger or nothin', don't ask me."
Oh, sure, Tsubasa says they're not a Rumourmonger, but they're presently doing a pretty good job of spreading that rumour that actually, Tatsuya Suou Can Assault People By Reaching For Them And The Worst Thing Is He Tries To Be Your Friend Afterwards. Maybe they ought to think about a career change.
... it says a lot that Tsubasa's keeping their ear to the ground about whether other schools are getting attacked too, though. They said they're cool, but... it's hard to feel safe after something like that, huh?
Apparently, they're the kind of person who tries to find patterns in the madness.
"Uh, yeah," they add, pulling out their phone. "Like, here..." There's a photo of some roses with orange flowers amongst the photos Tsubasa scrolls through, and Masao may well recognise the colour they gave them, earlier. Some of these pieces also clearly took a few different stencils to set up! ... there's also a picture of a rose carved into the wood of a bus stop seat. And several dog photos scattered between the snapshots of their crimes. "You, uh, workin' on shit too?" They ask, looking over to the cards.
<Pose Tracker> Masao Inaba has posed.
"...pff, maybe," Masao kind of laughs at the paradox of it all. He backs it up a little. "New York is a huge city in America, it's like... I dunno, I could show a picture and it just wouldn't capture what it's like to be there."
(or what it's like to deal with the Dark Hour at like 11am)
Still, he quiets as they mention that they're cool, even with the pause, and then...
'... there's some talk online about how Sevens got wrapped up in some kinda shit yesterday,' and that's Masao Inaba there paying stricter attention - and he was already giving all of it that wasn't being dedicated towards 'moer potatoe chep plessz brane happie.'
"...Huh." That slack jaw of confusion. Maybe if he runs into his old homeroom teacher - who is teaching there now - he could inquire with her. "With all the weird shit that keeps poppin' up, probably doesn't take much to start a fire over it on the internet."
He's so close to getting it. Just missing that one crucial step...
"Thanks for the heads up. I'll watch out," for anything that's suddenly just fine or something despite everything - but after what happened there prior around the time he came back to Japan, well...
Tsubasa pulls out their phone, and Masao's leaning over to see with genuine, even enthusiastic interest. "...Aw, sweet, yeah, that color's poppin'! Knew it would in your hands--- oh, cool, I like what you did there with the--- the stencils on this one. The leaves there, they're lookin' three-dimensional, that's...."
"Heh, wow, yeah, you're into it," he says of the VANDALISM. "That ain't a bad carving, though... that's not my usual medium." He should probably be discouraging that, as a responsible adult, but as an artist he can admire the dedication to the carving. That symbol means a whole lot, as had already been established.
"...Oh! Yeah, these," he taps a hand on them, "a card shop's asked me to try 'n come up with card designs to match a certain style." The finer details of 'a failed attempt to fully copy Skill Cards' isn't said, but it's hardly a lie of omission when this is basically what's happened.
The linework, the painting, the choice of colors are all there. If he had the actual Skill Cards, and Tsubasa had the capacity to see them... visually outside of the Cognitive energy, Masao has it down pat. But something just isn't... making them 'real,' in the supernatural sense.
"...Came out here just gettin' fresh air while rackin' my mind over the commission." That, and mysteriously Myunghon isn't at the store today.
(A vital text message about what they're doing did not come through.)
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Huh," Tsubasa blinks. "So, like... Tokyo?" Tsubasa's reference list of giant cities is kind of small, but they do their best. "That's cool."
(And they steal another potato chip. Shit, are there drugs in these things? Is Masao a cool enough adult to give them drug-laced chips and that's why they're this good???)
"Cool," Tsubasa nods, when Masao says he'll watch out. He's one of those people who are way stronger than them, so... maybe shit like this is the best they can do about it all.
They sure as hell don't stick around Kasugayama at night.
"You reckon?" Tsubasa actually smiles, when Masao remarks about how their stencils pop. "Like, if you just shift the stencil over an inch you can put another colour down and it'll go over it like it's the same thing... and like, you don't gotta lay solid colours down like that neither, you can just kinda spritz down somethin' on top so it's like... the light or whatever." Tsubasa's been working on the idea of shading despite Kasugayama assuredly not having a single art class, which is really kind of impressive, all things considered.
They flash a grin, too, when he comments on their vandalism. "It's cool," they say, "'cuz it's harder for them to take it down if it's carved in. Most of my tags disappear eventually, but like, some of that shit's still around months later." Permanency!!
They slip their phone back into their pocket so they can lean over and examine the things they don't know are Skill Cards, thoughtfully. "Huh... so, like... what's eatin' ya about 'em? They look pretty good to me. Not your usual style," because of course they've looked more of his work up, "but it's still cool?"
<Pose Tracker> Masao Inaba has posed.
them chips goooooooood
"Yeah, like Tokyo!" Masao affirms. Of course, there's plenty different between them, but as a comparison...
Art talk continues, as he listens to Tsubasa's techniques and their understanding of how to manipulate and present color through layering and shading and it's exciting listening to a younger artist just open up their world gradually to more and more ways to express whatever it is in their soul they just have to place into the world in whatever way they're going to!
"Haha, yeah... I can understand that appeal." Masao settles a bit. As Tsubasa approaches adulthood they're going to be heavily discouraged in pursuing that kind of thing further, but he's not going to be that adult today. This is an artist-to-artist discussion, and speakin' of that...
"Hmm, well," he's rubbing the back of his head, "that one I'm gonna have to speak with the client about and get their view on it." It's a frustrating roadblock, that, and he doesn't think the Demon Artist is going to be giving up any of their secrets if he tried to ask.
"But... yeah, I'm glad you like 'em," he says with a smile, "I mean, at face value I think they're pretty sweet, 'cept for that certain somethin'... ehh." He shrugs aloud.
"Art. What're you gonna do but just create, am I right?"
With the money that Myunghon has fronted he's really hoping to have better news than 'these are surface counterfeit Skill Cards' before long. They really put a lot of trust in him finding some way to make this a thing.
...
Still. He exhales as he considers the brief frightening acknowledgment of just how hurt, frightened, and unmasked that Tsubasa was in that moment, that fateful evening.
"Whatever happens, I mean... we never know what's going to get in our way, or where we're goin'," or going back to, "just keep on bein' you, all right?" If they've retained clear enough memory about all that happened that evening, well, maybe it's only a matter of time before this advice might mean a whole lot more than just the way they present themselves to the world.
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
Tsubasa just isn't very good at geography class. They could be, if they actually put the effort in, but they just... don't. They put their effort into vandalism, instead!
"I mean, you tried puttin' your own spin on it?" Tsubasa shrugs, as they look at the cards. "Like, I get the commissioner's got a vision or whatever, but... like, why would someone ask you to do it if they didn't wanna see your take on it?"
They shrug, again. "... or whatever. Ain't like I'd know." Of course they have to make it look like they're not invested in their advice just in case they've said something stupid; they're seventeen. (Going on eighteen, thank you very much.)
"True that," they add, when Masao waxes poetic about ART.
Still, back then...
Tsubasa grins, though it's a touch sardonic. "'Be myself', what kinda garbage advice is that? Oughta tell me to be someone successful, like, fuck, I dunno, the Detective Prince." Which one?! They're both pretty popular. "... but sure, dude," they reach over, grabbing another chip. "Like, uh, it's cool you give a shit. Kinda weird, but cool."
Chomp. Delicious chip.
"Anyway, I better beat it," they say, picking themself up off of the bench. "Gotta get home to Lance... she's gonna be antsy if she don't get to stretch her legs soon. See ya 'round."
Tsubasa thumps their chest in salute, and ambles off down the street...
... thinking to themself that they really ought to have stolen the rest of those chips.