2025-11-30: A Road Wrong or Right
- Log: A Road Wrong or Right
- Cast: Shiryuu Ryouhara, Kurou Ryouhara
- Where: Mementos
- OOC Date: Nov 30 2025
- IC Date: Aug 18 2012
- Summary: The head of the Ryouhara clan issues important orders to one of the clan's most loyal.
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
It was a little further down than most dared go alone in the twisted prisonscape.
The haunted, ghostly trains churn past, filling the wooden tracks with the sound of rattling metal and weight. Many go further into the labyrinthine depths, and as a result only a select few even stop to wait for passengers before moving onward.
There was a reason this was the location he sent the summons. The clan's council had flatly rebuked him for his ambitions, earning them the ire of Shirogarasu. For a shining moment, they believed themselves to be in charge.
Unacceptable for Shiryuu of Akita.
The grey-haired man stands past the benches and at a platform next to a tilted spray of prison bars, organized in a chaotic radial of spokes that spins in some childish, chaotic rendition of the golden ratio loop. Through the gaps between the bars, he can be seen shouldering his bag, adjusting the strap with an idle hand.
Kiria will no doubt had intercepted the message he'd sent by the school. She will scold him later, no doubt. For cicumventing the other Yongarasu entirely. For summoning Kurou to a place that she, nor they, can hope to eavesdrop.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
It's different now... In the Dark Hour. In Mementos. His memory of 'before' is corrupted with a weighty fog, blurring out broken pieces of history. Now it is 'after'. Now he has a Persona, and the quickest path is, in theory, a straight line... one he can carve through Shadows or demons if need be.
But the body remembers, and 'before' -- before Gashadokuro, before Soumeiunsatou -- still clings like a scar.
There's a rhythm to everything. The thrum of the train. The way the maze fits together, chaotic as it is, and constantly as it changes. He moves only when Mementos' own tempo covers the sound, and with the decisive precision of someone who expects a single wrong footfall to kill him.
Once, it would have. That he can defend himself now is no excuse to be sloppy.
There is no one before the train passes... and then there is Kurou once it does. He is knelt as a sign of respect, but soon rises to his feet. Though no emotion twitches on his face, and the attention of his eyes stay upon Shiryuu, there's a quickness to that suggesting some degree of unease.
Kurou considers it vigilance, and a small price to pay for privacy.
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
There are very few creatures, living or neverwere, who could catch Shirogarasu. The powers of his eye allow him to designate a space at will; but it is raw skill, not ninkougakujutsu, that brings Kurou here. As such, it's only respectful to make sure the path was at all traversible.
The drape of his haori hides his remaining hand, shutters most of his movement, as the dark-haired shinobi almost melts out the dark. The man breathes slowly, mentally adjusting a knob as he alights on that rhythm.
The world and every sound in it grows closer, seeming to move with ever so slightly increased urgency. The grey-haired man nods; satisfied.
"Shuuhei and Kouhei are not coming," Shiryuu points out, as if it would explain everything else that followed. "I'll take care of them later."
For some reason, Shiryuu appears to want to deal with them separately.
"In the meantime, you exist 'under the protection of my ability,' and are ordered to escape if we are to be interrupted."
The shinobi's head tilts slightly with the perogative. Normally, affairs tend to operate in the inverse, with every blade of Ryouhara charged with the personal protection of the pure bloodline. In this circumstance, however...
"First, tell me what you've found out."
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Kurou's gaze sharpens with the mention of Shuuhei and Kouhei. In the darkness of Mementos, his golden eyes have a sharper sheen again what little light reaches them.
For all his dog-like obedience, Kurou's loyalty is not without question. It's just he doesn't have that many questions. Only with an instruction to prioritize escape does he now give an uncertain pause as the idea settles at first with great discomfort. But... Shiryuu is the one with a powerful veil, and it would be an insult to his strength to argue. Kurou's nod finally comes, if much more slowly.
"... Understood."
His gaze slides to one side briefly, as if to expect such interruption. But it will have to be his ears that do most of the work... his ears and the soles of his feet, glued to the earth and feeling that constant rhythm of the world around them.
When asked to report, he takes in a deeper breath, controlled, but still like a diver resurfacing for air. Even breathing, after all, must be silenced.
"I have rendezvoused with both targets of interest. Akabane-san has been instructed on the proper care of her blade, and I have advised her toward cooperation. Regrettably, Hirano-san has already made contact with a member of the police force, who sees fit to shadow her."
Kurou closes his eyes, as if he is about to deliver terribly grim tidings.
"It is Suou."
He allows a moment to process before continuing. "But she now considers me a friend, which will simplify future reconnaissance and protection efforts."
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
That shinobi's discipline is without question, Shiryuu observes passively. Where the natural rhythm settles over him like a cloak, the boy before him is everything else winnowed down to a razor point. It's something to think on. Innocence was the cost of the Project, and..
The Shirogarasu's expression does not change. He cannot help but hold a slight grudge against those under Nagano. But in Kurou's case, in specific, the youth...
"I could tell," he confirms for Kurou, after a moment's pause that may in fact be mistaken for the grim sort of awkwardness inherent to the Ryouhara. Akabane's blade was certainly sharp enough that he could tell. Mouth suddenly dry, the young man presses his lips together, wetting them thoughtfully for a spell. Suou's involvement invokes the lightest grunt.
"The police have no business meddling in affairs exclusive to the clan," Shiryuu states flatly. "If he gets in the way of our goals, or in any way endangers the girl, I'm authorizing the breaking of his.." pause. Nmnh. The order catches on something he wasn't aware was there before. "...as shihaisha, I will authorize the breaking of one of his legs, whichever he favors least. If it won't jeopardize your intelligence gathering in the schools. Concerning them, the priority will be finding out more about the Thorn Boss of Kasugayama."
To the latter, Shiryuu seems to nod, as if that were all.
"Secondly, matters with the Ijuuin clan should be considered settled." The little concerns of open war between Ijuuin and Ryouhara had sparked up as quickly as a weed amongst the upper ranking clansmen. "As it happens, I'm issuing an open order... until rescinded, active protection for the Ijuuin clan and their relations. In exchange, the principal Ooshiro Yua will lend us aid with her 'ability' at a time of our choosing. That is the agreement, and we will maintain the peace in doing so."
However, the onmitsu has not raised his head yet. "There is one more thing."
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
In Kurou's case... that razor's point, that sharpened edge... The Nagano wanted to forge weapons out of souls. Kurou was a failure. Perhaps it's only proper to show them what success looks like... from the blade, not from the hilt.
There is the slightest glimmer in Kurou's eye to hear the suggestion Umie has been following the advice he had given to her. Then his manual was effective...! "I see," he says. "Then if you deem it satisfactory, she shall be rewarded for her upkeep.... for positive reinforcement."
Stickers. He's almost certainly talking about stickers.
Kurou is silent while he ways for Shiryuu to detail what he is about to get authorization to do, yet his attention is focused and honed in. Patience is critical for a shinobi like Kurou, but it threatens to fracture. A promise of /breaking/.
"... His least favorite leg," Kurou echoes to confirm his own understanding. There's a slightly squint. He looks to his legs, and wonders if having a least favorite is common. Hm. He will have to ask.
"Ichika Kawase," Kurou notes. Even without an official investigation, he's still a Kasugayama student. If they're not aware of who the Bosses are, they'll be made to be before long. "I do not yet 'run with' a boss. Do you want me to attempt full infiltration?"
It's probably smarter to let Kurou do it without attempting to actually socialize like a normal student. Kurou does not have enough self awareness to realize that.
But of Ijuuin matters, Kurou's head gives a small tilt before righting itself. Not only is it settled, but a protection order... Ah, for a favor. This is reasonable, not that it's Kurou's place to determine value. Whatever confusion he has, he washes away. "Very well."
There is one more thing, and Kurou gives Shiryuu his full attention, returning from any wandering thoughts.
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
Shiryuu has, honestly, already forgotten about the stickers. He is absolutely sure he doesn't know what 'positive reinforcement' means for Nagano's glitch-hound. "Hmrn," the man thinks aloud, taking a second to brush strands of hair from his eyes. It would be far smarter and shrewder to play cards much closer to the chest, and deny the suggestion.
".... I'll sanction it," Shiryuu decides, to the contrary.
"However." There is a bit of pensive energy, laid-in like a slumbering owl about the older shinobi. "When it comes to the Thorn Boss, keep her gang at arm's reach. A commitment out of turn could expose our goals. It's more important to be neutral and gain 'a sense of awareness.'"
But the man lowers his hand to his mouth, candidly. "...however, all of this is secondary."
The implication that there is a reason that Kurou was the only one summoned out this far into Mementos is stiflingly apparent, though subtext is so easily missed by the more honest calculations of the crossbones shinobi.
He shapes the next words very slowly, the rhythm falling off a cliff.
"It's come to my attention that the rumor surrounding the supernatural killer, 'Old Maid,' is real."
His hand drops to his hip, the sleeves of his haori finally falling over both of his hands until they can no longer be seen. Kurou can see the red ribbons of the ninkou Kousekisaku threaded through the sleeves, the weight and hang of the haori sleeves different from natural fabric in ways only someone who knew about the weapons would be able to tell. The man's energy picks up slow, his rhythm building back up, bit by bit.
"It's against the will of Yongarasu, but it is my intention to do my duty as Akita no Shirogarasu, and take it upon myself to lure out the Joker Killer, to stab him through the chest."
The words come out more easily than most, steeled resolve from creatures on the edge of life and death. The rest, however, are the details. The ugly parts.
"Irrespective of success or fail, It is my intent to issue a 'run on sight' order for the killer. The clan is not to interfere in this matter, nor are they to endanger themselves for my sake. This is the nature of the highest of Ryouhara." ... ".. however."
The least comfortable part draws Shiryuu's glance to Kurou's own, dark eyes lifting. Unlike the younger Ryouhara's, Shiryuu's eyes are mostly normal, until you look very closely. Therein, one can see the lens of the ocular ninkou Kyotosaigan, and the bloodshot flecks in that eye.
"For one exception alone, I will ask you differently. In the event that I am not successful in killing that man, I will ask you to give that person, 'Akabane Umie,' my protection."
Being stared at by Shiryuu's cold, dead eye is a terrible sensation for most, who wouldn't understand why. "If it is considered my final order as shihaisha, so be it. The consideration for her life should be considered the same as and equal to your own. Do not die and squander your years pointlessly, shinobi no mono. However..."
He blinks, and it's hard to think of when he did last. This is obviously why Kurou is here, away from every other eavesdropping ear. "This mission should be considered S-rank, the highest secret from even our own blood. If you succeed.. I will consider the debt that exists between us ... settled. Do you understand?"
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Stickers sanctioned. Kurou bows to Shiryuu with formality and gravity ill suited to whatever the hell he's actually thinking. "It will be done."
Wisely, Kurou is steered away from trying to join the Thorn Boss' gang, which would have undoubtedly resulted in about two poses worth of interaction before the proverbial and literal door was quietly and awkwardly shut on Kurou's face. But come to think of it, hasn't he met one of her gang already...?
"Arm's length," Kurou confirms, mentally painting out the lines where big moves might be needed, but subtlety remains a priority. He's mentally filtering everything in his mind when --
It's secondary.
Kurou startles as much as Kurou is capable of startling, which is to say, his brows lift briefly, and his eyes widen by a fraction. A new weight builds in Shiryuu's words. He is here alone, to hear words only for his ears. Words that he must carry with care and efficiency. It is not Kurou's place to suspect what could be so important.
But it was also not within Kurou's /imagination/ to guess what it ends up being.
"...Shirogarasu?"
Not an objection -- not quite, but threatening to be one. To want a kill for himself, Kurou can understand. Even to desire it beyond his own risk of survival, Kurou can understand. But where Kurou expects to be asked to finish the job at the same cost, if necessary, he is given a different instruction.
Protect Akabane-san.
Kurou meets that cold, dead eyed stare. His resolve could match it, if he needed to, but instead he is pinned by it. Not even to die doing it, but an elevation of his own standing.
"I --" He begins, stumbling over the syllable. His debt. A half dozen questions die under that firm and undeniable reminder.
"... I... understand," he says, voice quieter. Kurou's gaze dips with a weight in his heart he does not know how to place. By will alone he lifts it again. "I will not fail you."
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
The false, lighter brown of that ninkou eye reflects Kurou's silhouette, even in the muted light of that demented train platform. For a moment, a second more, searching the younger shinobi for any remaining scintilla that may be cause for doubt, cause for concern. He only finds sharp will.
The grim line-set of Shiryuu's mien softens incrementally.
"Sacrifice is inevitable," that white crow tells him. "It is the nature of the thing itself."
"But... every child of Ryouhara should have been given the choice to live a full, whole life."
It's not something he's ever said before, really, and definitely not to Kurou. But whatever his reason is for saying it, the opportunity for explanation vanishes like moth-dust in candleflame. That delineation occurs with the slightest nod of crow to crow; a mild respect of resolve that does not, itself, demand accolades or celebration. A ninja requires neither.
Instead, Shiryuu turns, untying the red bag at his shoulderline, before gripping the hilt of the sword within. Black feathers trickle out of the saya as he clicks it open, and draws a midnight blade loose. It only takes one stroke. Bonds of Black and its blade cut through the 'sight' of things, spilling ink like a river into into the train world like a second sunset, blotching out the far distance, then the middle ground, then everything else. The haunting dirge of crows is muffled as the air itself struggles, the drifting aftermath halo causing stabs of visual artifacts in the air, dreaming blooms of sharp-angled geometry into the omnipresent haze.
Shadows can't see, sound can't break through. The man lowers the black blade to his side.
A low, self-soothing sigh rakes through the man's nominally steel voice. He shoves his free hand through the grey mop of hair at his head, sniffing once before gathering himself.
"I've made the path clear for you out of the dangerous radius," Shiryuu explains, without lifting his blade again.
His back faces the shinobi still. "... now, let me be," he says. "I wish to not exist for awhile."
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
It is to Kurou's credit that he does not shy from the search. To try and escape judgment would be to be found wanting before it ever began. Yet it is the softening that grips with a colder fear.
So strange that obeying orders haunts him with a sense of disloyalty.
"... Life comes from death," Kurou agrees, in his own way, and in his own words, quieter as they become. He isn't one to speak like it's meant to be a conversation. This may be a form of self-soothing... a type of mantra to reminder himself that gloom has no part in his duty. Why the threat of it exists in the first place is a question much too advanced for Kurou to unravel.
But Shiryuu's next words are almost rattling enough to shake the grave dirt from Kurou's deadened composure. That he stares back in frozen silence is testament to how much was taken from him that night his choice was ripped from him. It's a pathetic thing, Kurou notes dully, to blink and realize his own arms are around himself, trying to hold his bones in.
His arms lower to his side with a slow breath out. It is not painless.
Ink spills into reality, black and soundless, in a strange and inviting beauty. Kurou regards Shiryuu a few seconds far too long before he wills himself to step forward.
"My thanks, Shirogarasu," he says with a bow, automatic and blank. They're the wrong words, he thinks. Precious seconds are dwindling before the window of 'goodbye' fades, and any further speech becomes more and more unwelcome. He starts forward, only to pause at the last inch of the threshold with the sentiment finding a way to escape his throat.
"...and... child of Ryouhara."
For Shiryuu is not much older than Kurou, is he? But there's nothing for it, Kurou knows, as he disappears beyond the path the blade has carved for him.
They aren't getting their choice back.