2026-07-09: Zenkokourou
- Log: 2026-07-09 Zenkokourou
- Cast: Shiryuu Ryouhara, Umie Akabane, The One in the Black Mask, Ren Amamiya, Kurou Ryouhara
- Where: Narumi Ward, Sumaru City
- OOC Date: July 9, 2026
- IC Date: Friday, December 07, 2012
- Summary: The Ryouhara clan has an arrangement with the New World Order, but they plan on reneging on their side. Umie brings Joker as back-up to try to help Shiryuu, but the One in the Black Mask has other ideas. Blood is spilled, and when Umie and Shiryuu unleash their Marks in desperation, the curtain of the ship Mizunagi descends...
- Notes: Zenkokourou is a four-character phrase that essentially means out of the fire and into the frying pan.
- CW: Graphic Character Death (NPC)
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
Sometimes, the Ryouhara would call it 'the night underneath the night.' An ill pallor hangs over the lonely little ship like the stench of ichor, or a miasma of ill intent. At its center was a lonely vessel floating in harbor, the RV Mizunagi.
'I'll never know why they always choose the most miserable places...'
That was how it was going. The staff had all been paid to keep deaf, blind and dumb to the single black helicopter that had been approved to make a landing at the curiously low-slung helipad sitting on a raising superstructure along the aft deck of the ship.
Ostensibly, the mid-sized ship was supposed to be a research vessel, with the latest in equipment, commissioned from Mitsubishi directly for a private contractor of a private company of a private name... however, the longer the ship made mooring in Sumaru, the more its actual purpose had become lost to rumor and speculation, to the point where whatever it was meant to be had long since become lost.
One day it was a oceanographic vessel surveying for oil around the Senkaku in the middle of a territorial dispute. Another, it was researching ghosts and haunted ships just off the coast. Then it was a secret government vessel, plumbing the depths of the human soul itself. Rumors abound.
Today, it was a meeting point for the Order.
"This is highly irregular," the man says. "We expected you to had come to your senses by now and abide by the agreements you made. Truly has sense fled you?"
And this is how it's going now. The men stepping off of the helicopter had expected the same as it always had -- one of the younger Ryouhara, with the agreed-upon amount of crates, at the agreed upon time, and not a word exchanged, before they're in the bird and flying.
Instead, the men meet on the other side of the helipad a silver-haired young man and his own grim entourage. Instead of the agreed ten, there is only one crate between the parties.
And the boy -- the leader of the entire clan, they were told -- did not seem to care in the slightest.
His lips tighten, brown eyes unblinking under the moon in an even stare at the representative. "Not my agreement," he says, coldly.
"What part about that wasn't clear..."
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
=====A FEW DAYS EARLIER=====
"I'll leave the decision in your hands whether or not you want to help me, Joker. If Shiryuu doesn't survive this, whoever'll replace him will likely be the same, in regards to the Phantom Thieves. You'll likely lose nothing."
In that way, the Ryouharas really *are* replaceable: as agents. No different than the Taiwanese mafia members Umie's seen around big supernatural incidents as of late. She could have added insult to injury and stated that it'd likely be someone without a Persona, making that hypothetical person an easy target if they had a Palace.
That part, she didn't say. A person doesn't need a Persona to kill a Persona-user; it just lowers the bar for entry if you do.
"But he came for me, more than once. And..." She sighs and trails off, trying to think of a more logical explanation.
Instead, she finds herself thinking back to Ren, on that doorstep to Akechi's office. The reasoning feels natural, even applied here. "I don't totally understand Shiryuu, or why he does the things he does. But I want to."
=====NOW=====
Whether she found it by narrowing down each possibility (and some applicable abilities for sensing 'fields of battle'), or if the accomodating Kouhei Ryouhara tipped her off to better ensure Umie went to her death, there is another party at play here.
"This is... a lot bigger than I thought it'd be." Dressed in a grey hooded oversized jacket, a red ribbed turtleneck, black leggings, and red sneakers, the only thing that would look out of place in a street setting is the mask...
... which isn't there, until she draws it out of her bag: the paper maiche half-mask, painted in layers of thin red paint, gold cracks filled in over the parts that had been cracked from a previous run. The hood is drawn down, revealing the plain ponytail tucked into the inner space between coat and shirt, and the mask's rubber bands are looped around each ear.
Already, Umie feels calmer with it on. Umie Akabane isn't supposed to be here, but the person Tamaki calls 'Mitsuhide' is.
"I've never infiltrated a ship," she continues, clearer-eyed, "but there's a first time for everything." She tilts her head towards her companion, if they have arrived by then.
Either way, she's going; she's made that clear. "With luck, nothing will happen. They won't even know we're here."
With a summon of the Badb in order to borrow its anonymous cloak, Umie checks, to make sure Joker still sees her. (He should, Umie thinks, but she's also pretty sure of something going wrong at some point, given her track record..)
Which leaves the last bit of business Umie should undertake, before anything happens.
When a kami gives you a gift, what do you say, Umie Akabane?
".... Thank you."
<Pose Tracker> The One in the Black Mask has posed.
~*Roughly 1 Week Ago*~
The IT President assured him it would be the peak of anonymity. The proxy account, he used to post up rumors on Dark Side of Sumaru.
The dig in Honmaru park had revealed new untold facets of Sumaru City's history. 'I work on the main dig site, and I heard it from the people in charge.'
There was more of course. Just enough bread crumbs, tidbits to point the rumor community in the right direction- towards a certain vessel taking part in that narrative
And my, was that community active.
Little did Goro Akechi know, a certain 'author' of the Kiyotada Sumaru story... was very appreciative, of his unapproved edits.
Very. Appreciative.
~*Now*~
And if it remained those men on the helicopter, the young Ryouhara would have absolutely nothing to fear- in the moment. Later, perhaps, there would be consequences.
Whatever opponents are here, they all know at least they're no match for him.
Hit and Run - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vyf69qOJdu4
The feel of cold gunmetal suddenly pressing at the base of Shiryuu's neck might be shocking enough, in and of itself.
Who, in this world could possibly sneak up on a trained ninja of the Ryouhara? There was nothing- and then the distinct tang of resonance, the smell of gunsmoke and fresh blood as his signature.
Unfamiliar, in and of itself.
"Now- I'm not paid to do math here." Came a coldly amused voice behind the young clan leader, "But, I believe that ten minus one still leaves us with nine remaining."
If he can catch his reflection, he'll see a crimson lens upon an avian like black mask.
"So- as the leader of your little misfit clan of ninjas born in the wrong era. You're going to have to take responsibility for this, very-"
He thumbs the hammer back, it's more theatrical than anything, just to cause an audible click, "-quickly; assuming you want me to overlook this and all the naughty things you're doing-Oh what's a good word for it?-fraternizing with a certain runaway from the Order."
Certainly not a ninja this one. Rather than exploiting this momentary advantage he has, it's almost as if he can't shut up, like he just enjoys the sound of his own voice.
"You know- I've never killed a ninja before? I think- it'd be quite a fun experience myself. So go on-" His voice drops from his prior playfulness, into something far chillier as the words grit out through the grooves of his teeth, "-give me an excuse."
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
~ A FEW DAYS EARLIER ~
"..."
Joker is inexpressive, hands in their coat pockets, when Umie gives them the choice of whether or not to help her help Shiryuu. There's a lot amiss with this scenario, but they know perfectly well that she's going to act either way.
That by itself is enough to prompt them to act too. Umie came to them for help; they can't ignore her. It goes against their principles. However, more than that...
'I don't totally understand Shiryuu, or why he does the things he does. But I want to.'
"......."
Joker sighs. They already knew Umie loves Shiryuu, but it really underscores how much she cares about him--and about Ren Amamiya, to remember what they said about Akechi.
"Very well. Perhaps I'll acquire more information on the New World Order in the process," is their excuse. But they know why they're really doing this.
~ NOW ~
Joker's longcoat flaps in the darkness as they infiltrate alongside Umie. Their mask is already affixed to their face, and they wait for Umie to affix hers, but they give her a slight, lopsided smile.
"Likewise," they reply. They pause when she adds her words of gratitude. "You're welcome," they add graciously.
She's still visible to them, cloak or not. And that dark helicopter descends. Joker slinks from shadow to shadow, pressing yet closer while keeping Umie nearby and the meeting in sight...
It already seems like it's going sour. Being too far to overhear and not being privy to the original terms, Joker can't know exactly, but the look on everyone's faces says it all. Shiryuu in particular looks quite severe--
And an instant later, they understand (or think they understand) why. Their breath catches in their throat as their eyes widen as a certain presence seems to emerge from the ether.
The one in the black mask... Their jaw sets as their pulse races, blood flushing hot with hatred. They dislike Shiryuu, but they despise the Black Mask.
They shoot a look over at Umie, prepared to block her path if she tries to do something reckless--even if that means giving away their position, too.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
It is something Kurou has made clear: he has sworn his loyalty to the Ryouhara clan. But it is this Ryouhara, Shiryuu's Ryouhara, and all it could still become. He believes in synthesizing a new future.
He believes this is not, in fact, their agreement, and he knows enough of the men whose agreement it was that they will have to enforce their words with bloodshed. But there's more than one way this act of revocation could go wrong.
Kurou is not stationed with Shiryuu's entourage. Perhaps that is a regret for later.
For now...
For now, he places his trust in his Shirogarasu's power.
Violence descends upon Joker in the shape of a boy with a blade chopping down. It demands Joker meet it, testing both whatever their chosen method of meeting it and the skill they execute it with.
However Joker answers Kurou's hostility, it is only after it is met, and Kurou is revealed, that he speaks, his sword still pointed toward Joker. Briefly, his eyes glance to Umie, then back again.
"You would only stop what is already being revoked," Kurou says, because he thinks they are here to prevent the drop off for what it used to be. "You stand to only complicate what is ultimately a Ryouhara affair. Leave."
His gaze wavers, drifting toward Umie again. There is the smallest rattle of his chain when it trembles before Kurou tightens his grip. Fear does not show on his face, but it is felt in his bones. Not for Umie, or for Joker, or whatever may transpire between them in the next for moments...
But for what might happen if they should get past him.
"... Please."
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
Now the calculus changes.
There is nothing that can makes the blood run cold faster than the bite of gunmetal. It's something so elemental that even a child in their youngest years understands it. In 'that' moment, Shirogarasu is assured that the Order will accept his new terms. In 'that' moment, the boy was simply going through the motions.
In 'this' moment, however, Shiryuu is given an education. And the world becomes much more real than it was only a second prior.
"...hrmngh!"
A man leaps back in surprise with the sharp chime of bells, away from Shiryuu's side. The boy doesn't move, his wrist still in his hand, even as his pupils blow wide against the nip of metal at the base of his neck. His agent, a large, grinning demon of a man named Zakuro, bridled harshly at the sudden appearance of a man who felt like -- not violence, but pure murder. The finer details are simply lost on him.
He was a killer, but not of this sort. The person who would have dealt with the runners and highwaymen if Shiryuu even sensed a second of ill intent. Alas -- if Shiryuu's senses could not tell the man in black was there... "No," the shihaisha tells the murderer calmly, even as he looks disappointed to be stopped from drawing his own blade, a massive affair at his back.
Instead, he is relegated to holding Shiryuu's sheathed blade for him.
"You stand no chance," Ryouhara finally explains to Zakuro, along the lines of the mild banter curling at his ear like a waiting cobra. "There's no point."
Instead, Shiryuu closes his eyes, as if not wishing to see the world as it is.
"A bullet to kill even an invincible man," Shiryuu recognizes, without looking back, without opening his eyes. "And you got in close, first," he thinks. Past his defenses, past his guard, comes the unspoken word.
"..wise."
There is a diametric opposition between them. Shiryuu is far more taciturn than the man in black, and even the boy's white haori stands as a flag against the night.
"Aa," he finally acknowledges, of the math. His eyes have not yet opened. "The last is an acknowledgment of our continued partnership," he is forced to admit.
"...but it seems that's not good enough..."
When the grey-haired boy's eyes open, one is sharp, bright blue. "... strange," he thinks.
"This feeling ..." is it fear ... ?
"...it doesn't matter," he decides.
"Who would I be, if I capitulated so easily," the boy thinks. Foolish, empty-headed boy. But.. "There isn't--" he starts.
--!
Shiryuu's eyes now widen as someone's approach -does- register to him, the fall of... "--Kurou--!"
It takes only an instant of distraction, the lift of that gun. Zakuro less throws and more drops his sheathed sword on his way to draw his. And in that instant until the moment he's dead, Shiryuu will move.
His sword never has a chance to hit the ground.
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
'Likewise.' Umie stifles a cackle behind her mouth, eyes twinkling behind that mask. "Hopefully we won't have to go *in*, but..." She shrugs. "I'd be more surprised if things *didn't*..." 'Go wrong' is the rest of that sentence.
But the helicopter stills that mirthful moment, driving the stakes of the situation into her mind once more.
It's not just that he answered her call for help as a fellow ally that Umie has to consider, it's that Joker is the leader of the Phantom Thieves, and he came alone. It's a smart decision, in terms of keeping the risk to the rest of the Phantom Thieves low, especially when many would likely still have some very strong (and very understandable) opinions on the matter.
If she messes this up... No, she *can't* mess this up.
As Joker moves from shadow to shadow, Umie's approach is likewise quiet, though hardly the slick blur a 'Mask-san' possesses. A small profile is made smaller by her crouched position, the kyoketsu shoge playing double duty as a means to climb up, the Badb's presence making the process smooth. A leap, a sprint, a repelling motion off a wall, a vault: all are used to try to keep in Joker's path in her sights as she follows, her fingertips tracing a path to each obstacle and over it.
However, that was only the warm-up towards a large, crueler obstacle, in the form of Black Mask. The way those red brown eyes widen is the first bit of physical evidence that Umie is unnerved. The second is how she looks to Joker, observing the look on their face. As Joker looks over their shoulder towards Umie in turn, a callous thought crosses the blonde's mind, as she glances back: what if Joker came to ensure Shiryuu would die?
What goes on underneath that locked expression is the temporary loss of that cognitive hold over Umie's resonance.
(Yeah, that may be a problem. Hopefully no one noticed.)
'The last is an acknowledgment of our continued partnership.' The words distract Umie from the falling weapon of Kurou; if Joker isn't ready, she'll attempt to flick it away with her own in order to try to give Joker a better window.
Now, she's got her eyes on Kurou, recognizing the shift in his weapon as a possible tell of the state of his emotions, right now.
She could just slip off, but with that other person down below with Shiryuu, she has to trust that it'd be enough to buy Shiryuu some time.
"That's no ordinary agent down there, Ryouhara-kun," she whispers. Maybe, Kurou will be able to listen, if she collaborates with Joker here. "That's the Black Mask. I don't think even two Ryouharas are going to hold off against a guy like that for very long."
<Pose Tracker> The One in the Black Mask has posed.
The One in the Black Mask does not even look at Zakuro, as if his presence were utterly irrelevant. Indeed, he's so dismissive of him that it proves Shiryuu's point on its own.
Instead, he chortles at his statement of the bullet to kill the invincible man. "Ahaha. My, I didn't realize I had a fan. Or is it simply another professional's appreciation of a job well done?"
The contrast between the two is unmistakable, even down to his grey hair versus the man's black garb that shows no sign of any details of what colors might adorn his pate.
"Not nearly." He replies to it not being good enough. And Shiryuu likely will understand immediately. He never received any orders to hunt down Umie Akabane.
And yet, his actions have placed himself in opposition with the 'spirit' of what the New World Order demands of its members. That level of loyalty.
"If you'd put a ring on it- then perhaps the Lions could let this slide."
Because binding her to marriage of someone else, is all she is good for in their eyes.
Is it fear?
The One in the Black Mask does not even have time to respond, between one thought, unto another- his eyes whipping up at Kurou's descent down upon.
"My- what's this?"
The One in the Black Mask takes his eyes off the clan leader- to witness the stand off- his attention on Joker, rather than Umie and Kurou, though he certainly marks them, seeking eye contact.
The moment Zakuro drops that blade, he doesn't stop looking at Joker. Instead his arm whips around, and at the exact moment Zakuro's hand touches that hilt.
He pulls the trigger.
The world is a silhouette of red and black- darkness spilling out of his forehead, his spinal cord not recognizing that the brain is already gone, in his hand continuing to draw the blade out for a split second, before the weight of his body under the sudden complete paralysis just stops and spills under the ground.
Red is splattered across his outfit as he looks towards the trio, and smiles viciously, his saw-toothed blade snapping into a reverse grip into his palm as he drops into a low stance. "Tsk tsk- did you invite the other 'Kuro' here? That's only going to make things confusing!" As he chooses the lowest hanging fruit pun possible for Kurou's name, comparing him to the 'Black' of his moniker.
Grinning, he becomes an inky blur- a smear in the dark and seemingly disappears.
Kurou, Joker and Umie- will get a moment's notice that someone is there, before his blade swings across in a vicious, precise arc, trailing cognitive crimson- aimed at a downward diagonal towards Kurou's neck, the weight of all of his strength behind him.
Why Kurou?
Well it's a display of both ruthlessness and cruelty. He wants Shiryuu to see him abandoning any quick attempt to kill him, as he he capitalizes on the standoff to try and take Kurou's head.
He wants to him to see with his own eyes he's not above targeting the people he cares about, while he watches.
However, it's not exclusive to him, after all- Joker and Umie have a front row seat to this.
Unless of course, they do something.
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
Umie has the right of it when it comes to the Phantom Thieves. Joker told Mona--he is, after all, their semi-constant companion--but the rest... This isn't the kind of mission that allows for a big team. Even Mona is keeping a watch from a safe distance--just in case. They both learned their lesson after the incident in Okumura's Palace.
And indeed, with the Black Mask showing up here and now, it's proving to be a wise lesson. They don't know what Umie's thinking, but they certainly know what that blip in her Resonance masking will mean.
However, it's not the Black Mask but Kurou who jumps them. Warning is warning, though, and as he descends, they raise their Harpe Knife, materializing out of the ether as they raise their hand, to block their chain. Joker's eyebrows furrow in confusion at Kurou's words, but it doesn't really matter what his understanding is, because his position is the same either way. Their expression soon smooths out--and stays smooth, even after Kurou shakes and asks nicely.
They have a feeling they know why, after all.
Umie tries to explain just who it is who's pointing a gun at the back of Shiryuu's neck right now. Joker skips that part, because they have a feeling he isn't objecting to her presence. He might have glanced her way, but it's only them he's attacking.
"You misunderstand. I'm here only to escort and support Umie Akabane on her quest," they murmur. "She stays, I stay."
The Black Mask doesn't get that eye contact he seeks; Joker's a little busy over here. However, over on the other side of the deck, there is stillness--and then there is a blur of action, punctuated by a gunshot...
...and then a thud.
If Kurou isn't trying to kill Joker, he'll be blessed with a moment where their grip weakens as their shocked, horrified stare is yanked towards the corpse now on deck. It's their first time seeing someone actually die in front of them, and even with a mask on, Kurou might be able to tell.
They don't even take in the Black Mask's wordplay. They move purely on instinct, purely based on what they know of the assassin.
That jagged blade sweeps down for Kurou's neck, and instead meets the curve of Joker's knife, now held two-handed as they grit their teeth, dark eyes ablaze with sickened fury, Kurou now at their back--whatever injury that might have cost them.
No words. Their silence says it all.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Now is not the time or place for Kuoru to praise Joker for the way they so effectively meet blade with blade. Instead, Umie explains that this foe is too much, and Joker explains their own purpose for being here: for Akabane-san.
What does loyalty really mean? It's not the first time the question has gnawed on Kurou's heart. When Shiryuu said he would take the weight of judgment upon himself, Kurou obyed, and had stood back. When Shiryuu went to fight the Old Maid, Kurou obeyed, and was not there.
What does Kurou want?
He does not want to dig through empty debris again.
He does not want to see his shihaisha lose who might make him one day sit down for tea.
He does not want home to disappear.
He is the other Kurou, without any mask at all, because there is no point in covering a hollow shell.
A gunshot fires, and like that, another piece of Ryouhara becomes nothing more than a memory.
Shiryuu calls his name.
For one intense moment, Kurou's gaze pierces into Joker. But he has already tested Joker's will and conviction. He can trust Joker truly does not want anyone to die today. Shiryuu's survival is more important than the death of Black Mask or any other NWO agent.
So is Akabane-san's. But, but --
His sword starts to lower, but in the swiftness of the brutality unfolding, the Black Mask's blade cleaves to take Kurou's head from his neck before anything else can be said. There is barely time to even turn as Joker is there instead, knife against blade.
Kurou yanks the scarf around his throat, and does the one thing his instincts can think to with the tiny moment that has been purchased.
"GASHADOKURO!"
Eyes burning like Kurou's the colossal skeleton flickers into this space, and Joker will feel a surge of power rising around them, bolstering their defenses to help them endure the strike they've parried.
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
Shiryuu's eyes narrow, focusing the light of that shimmering blue eye into a knife-sharp line as the gun presses against the back of his neck, as the man in black presses his point home.
It would have been fine, 'if you'd put a ring on it,' the Mask chides of his affairs with the 'runaway.'
"...be careful what you imply," the boy remarks, a haunted chill crossing his voice as the implication of Akabane as just noble stock doesn't escape him. It's the only thing that breaks his calm. "I only care for 'the synthesis of this world...'" the boy lies.
"Like everyone before you, thinking differently is going to get you killed."
And yet, the aftermath of that one tumultuous instant is everything.
He's less familiar with Joker, with Umie as they steal away through the shadows, but the arrival of Kurou -- whom he'd specifically not brought to the affair for it's obvious danger -- is enough to get his attention. Just enough that he breaks, enough that he realizes his mistake in recognizing that Kurou was here at all. Stupid, amateur move.
And yet, Shirogarasu is the fastest creature the Ryouhara clan's ever made -- a boy who moves on thought, his sneakers skidding across the slick helipad of the Mizunagi as he catches his sword out of the air, and just like that, the door is closed.
But not without its price.
A flood of emotion stabs like a naginata into the onmitsu's heart, as he hears the gun, but goes on living. The mad bullet is near instant, replacing every thought Zakuro could have thought to have with nothing but red and black. The man's bells chime as he collapses in a wet heap on the deck, and the gentle ringing sound is a gory echo of that gunshot.
A flood of impulsive thoughts break through the grey-haired boy's head as he becomes distantly aware that one of his took a bullet meant for him. The puzzle blade ninkou of that man hits the ground an instant after he does, never unfolded. Decades under Setsuya's leadership, living in agony -- but living still, given purpose. Only months under Shiryuu's. It's hard not to think if he had the chance that he would die cursing his name.
What does it mean for his word if he gave the accursed soul mercy, if he is dead only a few months later? Is that better than...
Shiryuu stands, his eyes immediately tracking after the man in black as he disappears in that wet, bloody smear against the world. It's hard to tell, but his impulse is to look towards Kurou, where he is -- and who all is with him -- and all of the color immediately drains from Shiryuu's face.
It doesn't take much to understand the message 'that man' intends to send.
"Hooh. This is what comes of --" someone unimportant says behind him.
The singly blue-eyed Shiryuu cuts him short with a line of moonlight as he draws his black sword, and doesn't even stop to see if the man is dead. Shiryuu is already gone.
Don't think about it. Move.
Lock in.
The rhythmic beat of his resonance is already thunder following the lightning stallion of his stampeding footsteps as the boy runs full tilt across the wall of the ship's upper cabin, crossing the interstitial space between them in an eyeblink only to defy gravity.
If Umie tries to circle, she'll find Shiryuu running right over her head. "STAY AWAY FROM THEM YOU FUCK --"
He doesn't intend on giving Mask a chance to say anything smart, triangling off the wall to try to spin-kick the man square in the temple with the whole entirety of his body weight.
Then, Shiryuu's going to try to put his sword through the man's chest.
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
Aside from the occasional word or sentence carried by the night breeze, Umie is blissfully unaware of most of what is talked about. Shiryuu, however, has to deal with all of it.
Shiryuu should have chosen someone who *wasn't* a runaway princess that sometimes got drenched in zombie innards and had konbini specials occasionally still infiltrate her small fridge. Next time, choose better!
Maybe then, there wouldn't be a family member dead at your feet.
Umie's seen illusions, flashes of things meant to illicit a reaction, or, alternately, to desensitize her, and she's seen what demons and shadows do when they're summarily treated with extreme violence. A human being being reduced so quickly, however...
Umie bites on the side flesh of her palm to stifle a scream, her heart thudding mercilessly in her ears.
.... and what's more...
... in Umie's eye alone, standing in the gore is that dark-haired little minx that haunts her, the red patterning of the young's girl silk hem dragging a whimsy of gold threaded flowers among the viscera of what was once a Ryouhara. (Not Shiryuu, a part of her mind selfishly assures. Not someone you know.)
The message is sent: 'your hesitation costs you.'
Blood must be met with blood. That is why her Persona is the Badb, not something sleeker and finer.
When Joker moves, Umie does as well, thought not through knowledge. In truth, she's just used to things snowballing out of control, once disaster strikes.
So, unlike Joker, she doesn't know the shape of what will happen, or how Black Mask will strike. She fills that in by trying to build on Joker's intervention, moving with an automatic set to her motions.
The kyoketsu shoge's blade in one hand, the rope and the metal hoop in the other, which she hurriedly spins as she hears Shiryuu cuss-- WAIT SHIRYUU IS
Shiryuu is
That's Shiryuu
Stop thinking and move, Umie Akabane.
She circles, swinging the hoop around, aimed at one arm Black Mask is attacking with. If and when it loops around, Umie lifts high one leg straight into the air, and *jams* her foot on the rope, attempting to rudely jerk Black Mask's hand backwards.
And the blade--
She'll try to slash, but that may be a turn too much to catch the assassin.
<Pose Tracker> The One in the Black Mask has posed.
The lie is met with only a chuckle, like he knows better. After all- who truly desires a World Without Sin? He doubts- someone who Umie Akabane loves does.
He does not even give the slightest damn when Shiryuu potentially cuts down(?) one of Tatsuzou's men, even to give a glance to see if he survived it.
It's not like he was important at all either within the organization, or this. And they understand this would be a bloody affair, when they called for him.
So too is it fine that he doesn't get the attention he seeks in the eye contact. He gets it with what happens next, well enough.
The dagger meets his blade, the impact hard enough that Joker might fear that his own dagger will be driven into Kurou's neck merely by the monstrous strength behind the blow. "Spoilsport. I thought Jokers were supposed to enable comedy!"
However, he bought Kurou long enough to respond, to summon his Persona. The enormous skeleton bolstering their defenses.
And the one in the Black Mask meets the cold fury in Joker's eyes, with a shark-toothed grin. Like a predator who has smelled blood... and decided to play with his prey instead of lose himself to the bloodlust.
His weight touches down against the loss of momentum, and he finishes the swing, driving Joker away even as Shiryuu screams at him, bounding off the wall. One might expect that the One in the Black Mask might evade it easily, but no- it's as if he doesn't see him coming.
(Never saw it coming...)
The spinning kick makes contact with his head, with enough force that it would snap anyone else's neck. Indeed, there is a crack, of his boot denting the side of his mask, leaving spidery hairline cracks on the side of the helm.
His neck snaps sideways. One might wonder if he is dead from it. And then the youth simply rolls his neck once in an exaggerated way.
"Ah thank you." He says as if in relief from waking up on the wrong side of the bed with a crick in his neck, "I needed that."
His body moves into a loose, relaxed open stance, his weight distributed all wrong by the reckoning of the two ninjas. He looks like he has openings from every possible angle.
It's absurd. Who fights like this? Yet- there is method to the madness, a fluidity in the chaos.
They both understand the illusion, right away. How can they not, with someone who is this dangerous? His stance is so open to bait attacks, to force them to overextend as they choose to do what their training dictates.
To exploit openings for certain kills.
Which unfortunately- Umie Akabane, does not have the same battle instinct. There is an opening, the hoop is cast to try and loop him in a trap.
And he simply bends backwards, in a complete conservation of movement, not even having to shift his stance.
Yet, when Umie jerks the hoop back as if to slash him with the trick, he surges forward, slamming his blade into her own with enough force she might fear breaking her wrist.
"Hey there, Hime-sama." He leers at her from point blank range, "Wanna pick which of your boy toys dies first?"
His opposite hand reaches up to his mask, and up close and personal, Umie sees the mask dissolve, his entire face shrouded in a butterfly of crimson flames that spill outwards like a living thing.
"MANIFEST!"
From the flames is birthed something- a translucent outline of a strange, spindly thing, that warps their perception of the scenery behind it.
And while he's still leering at Umie Akabane, the entire world goes monochromatic with a spinning motion from the invisible thing, like the Persona were seizing control of the space- a blade art in waiting, as a criss-cross hell of slashes in the air forms over the Ryouharas and Joker instantaneously.
Then the Monochrome fades, and every gouge in the air sees its patience rewarded with so many simultaneous blade slashes becoming actualized, like a Vorpal Blade cut through the fabric of reality.
"Or- if you wanted to be a good little girl and let me bring you home in one piece- I could be persuaded to let them all go."
He'll do nothing of the sort. Either taking Umie home- or letting the others go. He's just having fun with making each of them suffer, and seeing how much he can get under their skin.
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
The great skeleton rises, but instead of devouring Joker like last time, it empowers them to keep their knees locked and their back straight instead of buckling under the force of the Black Mask's strength. They can't express it in the moment, but there is gratitude (if somewhat, darkly ironic) in their heart.
They also can't know the thoughts that race through Shiryuu's head either, and for the moment they're too focused on the Black Mask to see the fate of that NWO agent. They can only snarl when the Black Mask tries to make sport of the murder they just barely prevented.
"You monster," they growl, hatred in their sharp glare. That only enhances the theatricality as they then boom, "Bringer of ruin--if it delights you so, let your codename be Ruin!!"
It feels like ages ago that the one in the black mask invited them to come up with one for him. Now's the time to finally make good on it, for the evils he's wrought.
However, the Black Mask--Ruin, if the name sticks--forces them back, their boots skidding on the deck, just before Shiryuu leaps in and Umie rounds on him. Joker's hatred is interrupted by that impact on his head, and for a second, a gasp strangles in their throat as it seems like he might have killed Ruin outright. They'll have to grapple with the relief they feel when he cricks his neck the other way and plays it off, transmitted physically by the shaking of their hands.
Of course, then he's a creep at Umie and invites her to pick the next death, and that hatred easily flares again like a smoldering coal just waiting to start a forest fire. "You--!"
Fear, both instinctive and born from personal experience, lances their heart when crimson flames flare and that transparent Persona arises. "Duck!!" they shout, already throwing themself to the deck. Because of that, when the Persona criss-crosses the air, they're only caught on the periphery. That means they merely get sliced up on their shoulder and back, rather than clean through their torso.
They're quick to leap back up on their feet after, one eye shut and teeth grit in pain. "Don't listen to him! He just wants to torment you!" they urge Umie as they quick-draw their pistol and fire off a burst of shots at Ruin, more to ward him away from her than any expectation that they'll have any effect.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Stay away from them, Shiryuu says -- cries -- and he is here, and it does not make sense, because it should be stay away from HER, because that is who they need to protect, because Kurou is just --
A knife. One that, perhaps absurdly, reinforces a different blade in the moment.
He cannot lose the future.
He cannot lose home.
There is no more time to think, because a knife, a weapon, a shinobi, is what Kurou must be right here and right now as the One in the Black Mask escapes death. Perhaps even pain.
Joker bestows a name upon that which refuses to have one. "Ruin," he echoes, as if to make it more real.
But Kurou also cannot take the bait being laid out. No, perhaps, of anyone, Kurou could, except they do not know. Umie is there, and then Black Mask's Persona cleaves through color and space, and in one instant, Kurou knows what is going to happen, and in the next he can do nothing to stop it beyond his trust in Joker's direction to mitigate the damage.
For someone who was a once enemy, Kurou's cooperation with them is immediate and without hesitation.
He springs from the floor with the strength of all four limbs, ignoring the pain ripping through his spine. Kurou launches the chain of his weapon to the deck beside his target, pulling himself in close despite his injury and, with the same murderous intent as once was aimed at him, poises his blade to try and puncture Ruin through the throat.
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
"--the devil??"
What even is this? Shiryuu can't understand it, the bizarre nonanatomy on display as the masked man bends into an unnatural shape to evade them, seeming all too like a wicked tree in the middle of winter, leafless and dead and desolate. But this man is the furthest thing from dead -- and it's that fact that galls Shiryuu the most.
It's pure force of will that leads the ill fated Zakuro from Shiryuu's mind, replaced by that shuddering breakbeat running the undercurrent to his attack, however little it may have mattered.
It was hard enough to crack that helmet. And if the helmet can crack...
The boy comes off of his spin kick and thrust hard, hitting the railing with the sole of his sneaker. A flex, and a flip and thy boy's haori spreads, dropping him to the deckboards as he flips his sword, spinning it by the guard in one smooth motion to the inverse.
It's hard. Harder than it was with Sudou, he realizes, as the man bleeds the very color out of the air and fills it with phantom steel instead. Why is it this difficult... why isn't he strong enough...
In a distant way, he realizes. He should use his jutsu, summon Sarutahiko and let a score rods of iron answer steel, and drown him in lightning. He should go for his back while he's distracted, while he's locked blades with Umie. He should enervate Kurou, to use him as his knife to cut through the man's defense. Plant an explosive on Joker, and detonate him the moment he gets close.
A hundred of these ideas and more come through Shiryuu's mind, and not a one of them he takes.
Instead, the boy starts towards Umie and Kurou, reaching only a miserable half step before the air is filled with razors, before the boy is forced to raise his blade against the back of his arm and try -- in vain -- to fight through the blades.
A gallery of steel lances along Shiryuu's thighs, through his guard, across his middle as he takes a leap over the razor field, trying to get rotation enough to do -- anything, really.
All he manages with his spinning lotus is to keep his haori pristine. Pristine, of course, except for Zakuro's blood.
But this isn't really how he's heard: His cry of being cut is tortured, muted, restrained. And yet there is no grand counte. No jutsu, or powerful attack that heralds his jump, nor his crash into the ground.
No, the wire whip that whirls into view in a curving lasso around the man in black's head is entirely simpler. A meterslong sword split into sections on a fine tether, carried on a blast of wind and guided right down the center. The sections of blade hang on the wire, and twist together as Shiryuu pulls it taut.
"Akabane. Take Kurou and go...!!"
He's going to be much ruder about sawing through the man in black's head if Juurishojin's microblades bite home to pull the man away by the head like a quarrelled kite. He means to drag the man bodily away until Shiryuu can interpose himself between them.
"Ruin, huh..." the boy manages, in a harsh snarl recognizing Joker's epithet but literally nothing else of what would be *awful* good advice.
"you're ... not going anywhere with ... !"
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
Ruin.
For once, it's *not* Umie being charged with the crime of ruining something just due to her bad luck. Black Mask, meanwhile, is an active participant in the entire process.
Umie reacts with a startled yelp as her right wrist nearly snaps from the weight Black Mask puts in his slingshot motion towards her, none the worse for wear after Shiryuu attempted to give him a vicious massage of his neck.
A man she once observed from afar is now in her very close vicinity, with a proper greeting.
Umie grits her teeth and tries to press her left hand into Black Mask's visor, more incensed by his leer and address than even the question he poses.
Stop looking at her. Stop perceiving her. Go away.
The monochrome world behind him, the cuts made real, draw a cry of horror from the blonde as she takes several steps back.
So many things she doesn't want to lose, right there, and Umie hates herself for betraying that sensitive part of her.
.... What's more, Shiryuu has the nerve to tell her to *flee*. Kurou must be protected, yes, but for her to be _asked_, right _now_.
Pain, fear, and mental exhaustion seem to flip a switch in Umie Akabane, who firmly states, "_I'm right where I want to be_!"
The only way to deal with a person like this is to turn the game around and obtain control.
Taking a step back from the far-too-close Black Mask, anger is forced to cool; concern and fear shoved back. "..." Her hand goes to her mouth, as if she was seriously considering, despite Joker's protests.
When the hand drops, there is an open-mouthed little blackbird smile.
She takes a step *towards* Black Mask and lets that smile bloom, like a flock of blackbirds taking off from a field.
".... my, my..." She lowers her eyelids, letting dark eyelashes fall across those eyes of hers.
"It's always hard to led a boy down when he asks so nicely, hoping he'll be the one to be picked," she purrs. "However, you're just not my type."
It's a tactic that likely only given the proper time to work by Joker's gunshots, followed by Kurou's quiet assault, and Shiryuu...
No, you can't stop.
And because it makes it all the more annoying, she continues talking, the Badb in her pecking, pecking, reaching, pushing, prodding.
A rolling stone that refuses to stop, once it begins rolling.
"Besides, I'm pretty sure you couldn't handle me, Ru-in-san~" Blue flames circle underneath Umie, her own will made manifest in the outreaching, taloned arms of the crow goddess. The sinking mud and weight of the battlefield is summoned as well, if not visibly.
Something to slow the momentum of one's steps, preserving failure for the future to unearth.
"But I'm sure you'll find someone out there."
There is more than one way to be cruel. Unfortunately, Umie may not realize just how cruel those words will be, for the young man behind that crow-shaped mask.
<Pose Tracker> The One in the Black Mask has posed.
'You monster,'
This is what he truly thinks of the real you
It was always going to be this way
Because they're right
'Bringer of ruin--if it delights you so, let your codename be Ruin!!'
This is your only means to avoid ruin
Do you have the resolve to challenge the distortion of the world?
The code name has a different meaning for the two of them. And as Joker calls him that, certain things come full circle. There's a subtle shock on his features, before he begins to snigger, then laughs harder and harder, "Hahahaha-AHAHAHAHAHA! You didn't disappoint! I like it!"
Ruin can no longer be avoided
Years actualizing his vengeance has ruined so many lives. Mental Shutdowns, Psychotic Breakdowns. All for the sake of his Justice. All because he once rejected a proffered hand.
Let the whole world burn, as he snatches the Dark Sun of his life out of the sky. Let there nothing but ash and ruin.
Joker's bullets do make contact. But not with him. The translucent shape intercepts them, the invisible surface rippling as they strike home. In position to menace Umie, his arm whips around and without even looking, he squeezes that trigger, several shots ricocheting off the metallic structures to force his opponent to put more effort into dodging high speed projectiles coming at him from unpredictable angles.
Just like someone playing pool, instinctive geometry.
'_I'm right where I want to be_!'
"Of course you are." He says patronizingly, "After all- you're just one more girl rebelling against a foregone conclusion." He says, doing exactly what Joker says he was doing.
Then she takes a step towards him, and his gauntleted right hand suddenly reaches out as if to warn her. "That's close enough." He growls, at her words.
'It's always hard to let a boy down when he asks so nicely, hoping he'll be the one to be picked,'
'However, you're just not my type'
"YOU-!"
'Besides, I'm pretty sure you couldn't handle me, Ru-in-san~'
Kurou's chain makes contact with the deck beside him, and he violently shifts his foot, for it to come down on said chain, even as his blade comes at him.
And then, something akin to a mirage parries his weapon with tremendous force just as he might puncture his throat, drawing it away from a killing blow into a near miss. He can feel it, less than a meter away from Ruin's throat.
It feels like he made contact with a weapon, save- the moment he does, his weapon begins to become red-hot from even contact with the invisible Person's weapon.
As if it were a blade, newly drawn from the forge, too hot to touch directly, even for the Persona itself. In a shimmer of movement, Kurou would swear a limb is being raised, and then-
SNAP
A very visible projectile of force is launched at him- at high speed.
'But I'm sure you'll find someone out there.'
"BITCH!" It feels like only continuation of his response a second or two earlier, and a statement unto himself.
Shiryuu's keen mind tries to form dozens of different stratagems to kill this man, as he watches attacks not so much fail- as they are thwarted by the reality of this devil in front of him.
Just like all good devils, a very human one.
However, as the Persona is distracted by Kurou- the man's arrogance is punished in that moment, as the loop of microblades loop down over his helm. Now all he has to do is-
-pull-
-only to find the right hand of the other man has grabbed his lasso of blades with his gauntlet, even as they rip and tear at the armor, sawing into it. Bright red blood drips from his palm, and yet just like he named him, a devil he holds on. Tugging it up and over his head, twisting at an angle to look his way through the crimson lenses of the helm.
And whatever anger Umie caused in him, flees- as it translates into his true love language- violence. And he grins.
"Clever trick. Trying to garotte me while I was distracted would be the right move." He grins, "If I didn't know anyone was there to begin with."
He jerks at it suddenly, and if Shiryuu does not let go, he'll find himself being drawn towards the man's own waiting boot, as he tries to spin a kick into his ribs and knock him across the platform, if he's not careful.
Either way though, he lets go mid-attack. He'd just kick it away if Shiryuu does release his grip.
Then his hand lashes out, knocking Umie backwards with a palm strike to her clavicle in an attempt to try and get her to shut up- and end her messing with his head physically.
When she looks his way again, she finds herself looking down the barrel of a gun, pointed just to the left of her sternum.
"Don't blame me. Blame whatever god or demon decided to mark you for their cruel games."
He grins wide at her. It's absurd, killing someone he enjoys the company of- absurd. To cut that short, just because her eventual fate is one worse than death.
"You always knew that you were living on their time."
It's just as absurd as killing someone you love, just to prove a point.
His finger pulls the trigger.
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
Are you really just a knife, Kurou, or is it just easier to be one? Is that the box to which you let yourself be confined, because it hurts so much more to be human?
Perhaps it's that same humanity that makes Shiryuu, ruler of the Ryouhara clan, devise and discard so many brutal plans to kill the one in the black mask... even though it's so much harder to fight that way.
Certainly it's hard for Joker to be in this particular team, three of them all bent on solving their problems with murder. They see Kurou leap for Ruin's throat blade-first, see Shiryuu attempt to trap him with blades on a wire, and once again they feel that same fear-then-relief when he batters both of them back but still doesn't manage to slay either back. Joker grits their teeth, annoyed at themself for feeling this way, yet--as much as they hate him, as much as Zakuro's corpse will haunt their nightmares, they really, truly don't want to see... well, any of these men die. Any more than they wanted to see Isabeau die when the Reaper showed up. It's a sobering thought when confronted with the reality of how prepared and eager these men really are to resort to murder.
That doesn't mean they're going to change their stance or their methods. They don't regret protecting Kurou, who switched to fighting in tandem with them with remarkable ease. It's just a reminder of what kind of opposition they're up against.
After all, for all that brief, subtle shock on Ruin's lips, they soon twist into a maniacal grin as he declares he likes this epithet. That they didn't disappoint. "You would," Joker mutters--but that blink-and-miss-it expression of his suddenly reminds them of how he called them a Wild Card. Could it be...?
At least the epithet has immediately caught on with everyone. That's gratifying, in a way.
For all that the others get in close, though, Joker is forced to evade further and further away by those ricocheted trick shots. They've seen him pull that trick before--that instinctive geometry that perhaps defines a master pool player--but that doesn't make it any easier to avoid sprouting a few new holes. With so many people around him, they sure as hell can't try to fire back again either. Their eyes snap to the invisible contours of Ruin's Persona as it fires that force projectile at Kurou at speed. If the younger ninja seems likely to be flung overboard, they'll dive to catch him--even if it means both of them are slammed into the railing and go down in a heap for a crucial moment.
It's perhaps Umie who hurts Ruin the worst in the only way that seems to count, despite Shiryuu all but pleading with her to escape with Kurou. (It's fine that he doesn't include Joker. Joker doesn't like him either.) They admire her defiance, though; after all, they too possess a Will of Rebellion. As she taunts him in the matters of love, to Joker's amazement, it actually his home, enough to visibly anger him and make him verbally lash out.
To make him do much worse than just lash out.
"Akabane-san!!" they shout, fear causing them to revert from how they usually address her as Joker to hw they do as Ren, when Ruin aims at her and pulls the trigger.
[OOC] Ren Amamiya says, "blu-ray *how they do as Ren"
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Shiryuu should enervate Kurou to use as his knife, and Kurou would tell him as much. Because it's easier? Or... Regardless, this is not what happens.
Take Kurou and go...!!
I'm right where I want to be!
Even in the chaos, Kurou's mind is silent, putting everything into that singular, focused strike for the Black Mask's throat. There is a purity in it. A simple instinct. The kind of thing that is not easy to perform, but easy to decide, because there are no other options.
Like a thunder crack, blade hits something, forcing Kurou to puncture through air instead of flesh. Kurou's eyes set on Ruin in that fraction of a second with stoic intensity. His gaze is unchanged even as Soumeiunsatou burns in his grip and reddens his flesh. Kurou's strength dares try to inch the blade back against Ruin's throat, even in the face of resistance and pain.
But he is pushing against a now visible weapon.
He crosses blades with a Persona he cannot cleave through in this moment.
And then -- SNAP
Kurou slams his foot into his own chain's claw, burying it deeper into the deck to try and hold firm --
And that isn't enough.
Soumeiunsatou's chain claw wrenches from the deck as Kurou is hurled back, unable to get control of his would-be anchor as he will assuredly be thrown off the side of the deck if not for th THUMP of a body he collides with.
He does not have to ask to know who it is.
Joker buys him enough space and time to sling the chain back around, wrapped around a fixture and pulled taut with one arm. The other grabs hold of Joker to keep them up from their collision with the railing.
An ally is an ally, and trust is trust, whatever the condition, and however it is formed. If Joker is all in, then so is Kurou, and Joker is clearly all in.
But they are both so much further away than they need to be.
Joker's voice screams out where Kurou finds his own voice unable to rise. But his grip tightens on reflex, and there's the smallest escape of a quiet, unsettled breath.
Tsubasa Seki has arrived from The Rooster Inn.
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
....no. No no no.
Shiryuu Ryouhara can do the math in his head. Enough degrees of lethal target angles by so many milliseconds of reaction time divided by average evasive maneuvers per second is your likelihood of someone dying in any given moment -- and for the purposes of Ryouhara ninjutsu, a familial style focused on ninkou capable of attacking across multiple vectors sometimes multiple times a second, the formula usually favors them.
But, to think of it dispassionately, the fact of the matter is the formula is meant for one shinobi vs. one target on equal grounds. None of those factors are applicable now. Even against Sudou, the math, the rhythm, the beats per minute would have favored him, even if ...
Bluntly, grimly, the longer they fight, the more likely...
_I'm right where I want to be!_
The grey-headed boy pushes it out of his mind towards a more constructive pattern of thought: Cursing Akabane's name. "Umie, you--!"
No. No no no. Listen to me. Don't -- do that. For once, listen.
Shiryuu is faster, his reaction times top-notch. And to his credit, it almost matters -- the Ruin from afar pulls him bodily towards him, and the boy is pulled off his feet on a terminal angle towards the black figure. Somewhere, academically, Shiryuu could have ideated a world where they held the killer in place with a linear guywire array and struck him down. Instead, all he can do is flip end over end to slow his momentum, to slam the pommel of his sword into the anchoring bracer for the wristblade, popping the gauntlet open and releasing it midair. If he can just angle himself forward a little faster --
No. No no no. Why are you saying that -- you're too close still, I can't get --
The only thing Shiryuu is aware of is her voice, and the feel of the boot in his middle. The shihaisha is not careful, as much as he tells himself he is -- and all of the wind is knocked out of him as Ruin blows him across the deck of the ship, the boy's white haori picking up dirt and salt as he crashes into the floorboards rolling.
He doesn't even notice, his one dark eye half-lidded as a snapshot of time freezes for him.
How long has it been since the boy was aware that the panic has set in?
Someone... listen to me.
"KUROU!!" Shiryuu shrieks like a dying crow as he kips off the impact into a low crouch. The figures, the facts begin to flood his head. Kurou was struck by -- something -- he can't see. He's in Joker's arms, and for a moment that doesn't bother Shiryuu. Maybe... maybe he'll make it. The call is in spite of it all, pure reflex, hope and every lever of the boy's authority brought to iron bear on anything, anyone who'd hear. He's already lifting his sword, the hilt by his head as he winds up, taking aim.
"I NEED YOU!"
I need you to listen. I need anyone to listen.
Someone... listen to me.
An empty-headed child in Akita balls his fists and screams.
Shiryuu's perception bends around one thing, dire focus locking in on gunmetal and its barrel as it lifts towards Umie's chest. Without thinking at all, the boy cocks his arm back and -- throws.
It's something Joker and Ruin can feel when the boy in white wills it. His eye shines azure bright in the black. The ill omen of kegare spikes hard around the shinobi, the ninkou's level spiking until his skull aches as he forces Kyotosaigan to work again. It's on the tail end of his throw, the black blade of his sword thrown edge-first to take Ruin's hand off where the trigger pulls. Shiryuu throws his weapon like a javelin, trying to prevent even one pull of the trigger. He almost beats his sword there, arriving as he cuts the space between the three to 'zero.'
But even at zero, the boy knows the math is not in his favor.
<Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
Black Mask is just full of surprises tonight. His reaction to his codename is yet another one, coupled strangely with Joker's manical grin that threatens to catch on Umie's own, if she wasn't already on her own scheme.
She rebels against those notions of her fate being foregone, even if the definition of which fate, as well as what conclusion, remains in the dark. Is it the fate of someone who refuses the Order's wishes, or the fate of someone who has the Mark? What happens to either?
It won't be answered here, as Umie's just landed herself in another sort of predicament with a far more predictable outcome: what happens when someone angers Black Mask. She naturally pivoted to those words because she guessed they would sting, as she felt they would for anyone with an abundance of pride. Yet somehow, the wealth of anger that it summons is the next thing that's unexpected from Ruin. ... Like it wasn't _pride_ that was strictly there, or a wounded ego.
They were trying to get under each other's skin, and if that was the case, perhaps... what else is similar?
The feral dance of Ruin and that invisible, imperceivable Persona claims many, including Umie's clavicle, neatly reducing her cries of their names into a rough rattles. By the time she says Shiryuu's name, it's more audible, but with so much more force behind it to render it painful to hear.
The click and heaviness of that barrel loaded so close to her chest presents a white hot bullet of fear, freezing Umie in place.
'Don't blame me. Blame whatever god or demon decided to mark you for their cruel games.'
The conclusion to that earlier question, leaves Umie's lips, like yet another one of those strange little prophecies she'd make.
"You're as cursed as I am..." Umie barely manages to whisper, eyes wide with the realization. "Aren't you...?" She even has the nerve to be surprised, the emotion overwriting mortal fear at seeing that gun pointed at her.
She knows what it can do; she can't pretend it won't be different, this close up. 'Akabane-san!' Joker's address is different, perhaps due to the moment. It feels... familiar, but her mind refuses to question it further, as her eyes flicker over to Kurou's face next, gripped in something that could be neutrality if she didn't know him well enough.
And Shiryuu...
'You know how. You're never forgotten.' The child floats off-kilter in the distance, black hair and robe scattered in a slow, descending mimicry of what Umie's next moments may look like, if she doesn't act. 'Or do you want to make them watch as you exit the stage?'
'Go on. Be a good girl, and survive, for me~'
It's no different from any lonely jaunt through the Dark Hour that's ended in disaster: the point is to survive.
A breath, and... she lets go.
The force that answers that trigger isn't the shriek of the Badb, but an unearthly clap of something that falls over the senses like a stained curtain, a single claw puncturing and dragging open a tear in overripe fruit.
The sensation is familiar in the wrong way, having been a fixture of Sudou's visits, as well as many NWO agents seemingly 'gifted' with a similar set of nebulous abilities.
Having the source be Umie does not make it sting any less, or feel any different; it makes no apologies for the thing everyone here should already understand.
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
What's the use of power if it can't change a single thing?
'Now, in this moment, I am the strongest,' he'd told them, with even wild Zakuro kneeling before him. 'Where Mizugarasu tarnished our name, I will polish it for a new, shining era. If you oppose our new synthesis, you'll pass into the next realm instantly.'
But what point is there in being the strongest?
No. His aim is true, and Shiryuu's blade spears the gun, but it doesn't matter. A bullet is a bullet, isn't it? He catches up with her and it doesn't matter. He holds her and it doesn't matter.
Her voice is so small.
"...hold on," the boy tells her, red rolling down his cheek openly as a foul curtain drops over them all. Something is coming. What even is... is that what it's like? He can feel the omen levels of his ninkou start to split his skull like a maul on a stump as he wills something that doesn't exist, something that can't happen. "... no, it's fine, we'll go ..."
It's what he wants -- but it's impossible.
What does he want?
As the curtain drops from above, they can feel the way the world contorts, convulses, begs to be smaller than it is. Something on the outside is pulling at something inside. That descent is something he is nascently aware of, a chill creeping up his spine that simply doesn't belong to him as he tries the door he's used hundreds of times before. It won't open. Parts of the ship crack audibly as the boy tries again. And again. And again. They have to go. But he won't run. Not without everyone else. He is the one who stands.
But what's the point, if he can't change anything? What is this 'difference' between them? JK ... Ruin ... why is it that he has to obey, and no one else?
Exceed something. Anything.
The boy's fists tighten into her clothing, the balance of the ship shifting. He shuts his aching eyes.
Move.
And then everything changes, as her bloodstained curtain falls.
<Pose Tracker> The One in the Black Mask has posed.
Killing Umie is proof he'll have to one day kill Ren. It's a proof of concept in a way. No one could ever love someone as monstrous as he is. When Joker hates someone for her death, they'll hate him.
Thesis and Antithesis
The fact that it's a mercy, for Umie Akabane is... there, as well.
Earlier, Shiryuu had wondered if he'd known fear. Now, it's certain. The One in the Black Mask can hear the desperation in his voice. Ruin has come to take his lady love away.
Could anything else make a man more frightened and panicked than that?
He demands someone to listen. He demands anyone listen.
Ruin does, in that perverse, sadistic way of enjoying someone's suffering, their last gasps of hope before all is lost.
'You're as cursed as I am...'
'Aren't you...?'
The thought of 'Since the day I was born' comes to his lips, but is not spoken. Instead...
"...Heh... Hahahaha." He lets himself have a chuckle over it, "I don't think you have any idea how cursed you are to begin with." He says with that grin.
And not a single hint that he thinks this is a mercy.
The thrown blade, like a Javelin, is one he expects his mirage like Persona to intercept. It ought to. Instead, that strange black trail of energy passes alongside its flank.
One eye in a red lens opens in shock, at the motion in his periphery, his hand jerks mid-trigger pull to avoid- what might not take his hand, but would certainly maul it.
The shot is off course- by a few centimeters, the blade slicing the back of his gauntlet, with a satisfying splatter of blood from the act.
"You fucking- BASTARD!" To someone like Ruin, the foulest insult he can offer, is to compare someone to himself, losing complete control over the situation.
And as the curtain falls.
"I'm GOING TO KILL-"
His very murderous declaration cut off by it, forcing him to leave this stage.
To one that he could not have accounted for in his wildest dreams.
[OOC] The One in the Black Mask says, "*blu-ray To stand on one that he could not have accounted for"
<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.
When there's time to think about it later, it'll strike Joker as remarkable how easy it is for Kurou to adjust his thinking on the fly. They helped him, and so he helps them back, even though the last time they met (as Kurou and Joker, at least), he tried his level best to kill them. They aren't complaining, and when he grabs hold of them, they grip his arm back. Yes, Joker is all in--because at the same time Kurou is their enemy, he's also their friend. They hear that sharp little breath of his and they understand it far too well.
Even though they helped each other, though, anchored as they are by Kurou's chain, they're still too far to do anything to help Umie. However, they're not the only ones here--and if Joker had any mind to think Shiryuu doesn't actually care about anyone, not only does he shout for Umie by name, he also tells Kurou he needs him. (Well. Lacking context, that's what it sounds like to Joker.) It's funny to think that Shiryuu, the man who callously kidnapped and tortured one of their closest friends, could get humanized to them so much as to drop out of the running for their top three most hated people, but that's what's happened at this point. Hell--he might not even make top five, at this rate. Top ten is looking dicey, even.
Umie is too far away for them to hear her whisper about what she and Ruin have in common, but his chuckle over it is all too easy to see even from this distance, and he's not so mindful of his volume. Cursed... Meanwhile, Shiryuu launches his own blade and himself to try to lop Ruin's gun hand off at the wrist (Joker is reminded, seeing this, that Ruin is left-handed)--but it's more than that; it's a sudden summoning of something not a Persona, of a wrongness they have felt before in another context. Their eyes fly wide, recalling those horrific alternate spaces that Sudou summoned when he was alive--and they remember in an instant that Umie told them she has that power too.
That, if anyone were going to use a cursed power like that at any time, of course it would be now. It's a literal life-or-death situation.
"I'll distract Ruin. You help Umie!" they tell Kurou, giving him an encouraging push on the back. ("Umie," because it's faster to say than "Umie Akabane" or even "Akabane-san," and by now it honestly feels earned. No need to mention Shiryuu, since at this point he's a package deal.) When he's in motion, so are they, pushing off the railing and launching towards Ruin at top speed as he's distracted by just managing to avoid a mangled hand.
Ruin is mid-snarl, mid-declaration of death, when Joker grabs him by the left wrist and thrusts their gun into the underside of their chin. They both know they won't pull the trigger, but it ought to do just fine wrenching his attention back to them.
"Sorry," they growl as the ship tilts and the curtain falls, dark eyes ablaze behind their mask, "you'll have to make do with me."
Bold, and perhaps foolish--but isn't that always what's drawn him to them?
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Somewhere in a spike of pain and a collision of bodies, vision black and red, Kurou hears his name. He hears his shihaisha -- no, he hears Shiryuu calling for him.
I NEED YOU!
And that is what Kurou hears. He needs you, he needs you, and you can barely move. He needs you, and you are too far away. He needs you, because Akabane-san needs him, because because dark red is about to become ashen black, because there are about to be one or even two empty graves dug where a family was meant to be.
Shiryuu's blade flies, and Umie --
Kurou does not have words to describe what Umie has done, only the sense of a sickness coiling its way around his thoughts and staining his nerves like spilled ink.
His pulls at his chain, forcing himself to keep upright through counterbalance. Joker's voice manages to cut through the mire, Kurou's instincts still sharp enough to have a fragment of attention constantly trained on the Phantom Thief who knows this foe better than anyone here.
Help Umie, they say, and there is no time to protest any manner of plan devised in these precious seconds. There is not even time to speak, and Kurou rips his chain back into his grip and is off at a full sprint at Joker's small push. They were enemies yesterday, and might be again tomorrow -- if they both survive. But today, Kurou will not hesitate to bet his life in Joker's distraction if there is the shiest chance he can keep everything from slipping away.
He does not know what help he can add to any situation that isn't cutting a knife through it, but when that's not an option, all he can do is go --
And be there when the curtain falls.