View source for 2026-02-20: A Meeting Beneath the Sickly Green Sky

*'''Log: A Meeting Beneath the Sickly Green Sky'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Hyousuke Suzuki]], [[Umie Akabane]]
*'''Where:''' Aoba Ward
*'''OOC Date:''' 2026-02-19
*'''IC Date:''' Fri Sep 28
*'''Summary''': ''Ensconced in darkness beneath a green sky, Hyousuke and Umie chance upon each other. Though she tries to sway him from it, Hyousuke seems determined to chase a shadow, but the Old Maid promises to be a more immediate concern.''

----

 <Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>
        "N' why would I tell a lil' pipsqueak like you?" 

        The young person in the oversized pale grey windbreaker stays before two burly onis, who easily tower over them on the street, green moonlight highlighting the differences in their heights. Despite this, the person stands with a relaxed sort of confidence, arms visibly pressed into jacket pockets as they take a footstep or two backwards, maintaining a distance of a meter or so. One foot taps the front of their sneaker down against the pavement. "I thought you guys looked like you knew a thing or two about having fun." The voice is feminine, young.

        They lift their shoulders in a shrug, fingernails wine red. "I guess you're just as boring as the rest..."

        "Whoah, whoah, whoah, we're not boring! We know plenty of ways to have fun!"

        This is the point in an introduction that could go either way, leading to the next step, or...

        "Yeah, I know a good game we can play: stab the chick in the mask!"

        The oni thrusts his naginata with a shove of a single muscular arm; whiffing past the hood of the jacket as the girl makes a calculated step to the side. The action makes the hook settles down on the person's shoulders revealing blonde hair, wrapped in two buns neat the nape of her neck.

        The second one charges, and the girl turns, her half mask hiding the top half of her face as she dodges again.

        At least this part is going to some kind of plan, Umie reflects, as she adjusts the fragmented stained glass design of her current mask.

        "This is a terrible game," she chides. 

        Two against one is bad odds, but she can handle it just fine. Jussssttt fine.
</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Hyousuke Suzuki has posed.
<poem>
Past the verbal exchange between the lone fighter and the demons hounding her, past the darkness of the twenty-fifth hour, and past the reach of the sickly moon's pale light, was a distant clanking. Metal shifted against metal, creaking and scraping against itself, each noise rippling out into the still and stagnant air. What little illumination was present caught upon a titan wreathed in bronze, hung puppet-like by invisible strings behind a lone, stalking, figure. Himself wrapped in shades of purple and golden yellow, the masked man regarded the demons wordlessly, only gesturing for the spirit at his heel to attack.

"That's 'cause you're playing it wrong." He said. His voice did not so much cut through the clamour as it did tear through it. The boom and growl of his speech was like an axe, cleaving into the noise and demanding that the speaker be heard, even as clanging metal rang out into the black-tinged air. The spirit surged forward in a streak of metal, and he was only a step behind, striking his fist into a demon the second after Achilles had heaved his shield into their body like a battering ram.

"You're meant to do this two-on-two." He said, the change in his voice one of simple volume. Again, his voice boomed out, though it was not accompanied by the grinding and crashing of armour and blade. Fists halfway between a guarding stance and his waist, his Persona's spear and shield raised in readiness, and his eyes glaring hot beneath the mirrored lens of that golden visor, Hyousuke seemed to be itching for a fight - like a hound at the ready, held back only by a leash and its training. Without turning, he addressed Umie, speaking a little lower, and a little more calmly. "What's the plan? We looking for info, or a fight?"
</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>
        Shitshitshitshit this plan goes out the window if there's three--

        oh

        Yes, Umie knew it was a Persona user the entire time! right, right.

        Umie was not at all convinced, temporarily, that another demon may have joined the fight, before her senses told her otherwise. Perish the thought!

        "I'm good with either, really," Umie says, turning to the oni....

        .... who are noticeably not there, having booked it down the streets. 

        The blonde sighs. "Not worth chasing." Slipping a finger underneath her mask, she carefully lifts it up, giving Hyousuke a glimpse of the skin underneath before letting it slip back with a puctuated 'pif' as she lets the mask's bands pop it right back on her face.

        If the illusion of her anonymous identity still held, it'd be broken now in Hyousuke's mind's eye: the person in front of him would be the person named Umie Akabane, with all the various acts and appearances that he has connected to her now connected to the person in front of him, with the lopsided, impish smirk.

        "I take it you're investigating too? I thought I saw you at that art gallery. It was pretty crowded in there, so... I could've been mistaken." 

         No, Umie knows Hyousuke was there, but... she'd like to see if he'd admit to it or not.
</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Hyousuke Suzuki has posed.
<poem>
Even with the entirety of his face obscured by sheets of plastic, both of glinting gold and rich purples, Hyousuke's frustration with the demons' vanishing act was clear. His posture grew a little more slack as tensed muscles loosened, while a low sigh slipped past his lips and billowed against the underside of his armour. Something that sounded vaguely like a curse was breathed out, but what little of it was not caught by the mask was spirited away by a wayward breeze. Achilles settled a moment after she expressed that they were not worth the effort, and he recalled that mountainous mass of heaving metal.

"Right the first time." Hyousuke said, his tone a little lighter than the one he'd taken before. There was no apparent need for an act - not an intimidating one, at least - so whatever bravado he'd worn began to settle into something more relaxed. "I was the one trying to punch the Joker Killer out." He saw no reason to hide it. He saw no way that he even could. He'd not been particularly subtle, after all - it would take someone deprived of all their senses to ignore him roaring and bludgeoning his way through the fight like a madman.

To prove that point further, he loosened the straps on the mask a little, and dragged it upwards. For a few seconds, he granted her a glimpse at his face, for whatever it was worth amidst the black of night. Sharp eyes of emerald green were set into fair skin, both underscored by faint hints of grey bags - the right one of which was carved through by a scar running from brow to cheek. Though long-healed, it was still a deep and prominent thing, its presence seeming to linger even as he strapped the armour back onto his face.

"You were there too, weren't you? Tartarus as well. " He asked, cocking his head a little, like a hound might. "You and your friend fight pretty good."
</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>
        Red brown eyes note the tenseness in Hyousuke's posture.

        "The trick is to pick your battles," the blonde says quietly, unable to keep herself from that old role of 'senpai'. "Dark Hour's never as long as you like, but longer than you'd want it to be."

        At this casual distance, it may be hard to determine Umie's age: she's still young, but in that way that can be hard to determine without some mark of adulthood. Half gloves peek from underneath the sleeves of her jacket, their length running further up her arm than any average pair of handwear.

        'I was the one trying to punch the Joker Killer out.'

        "Mmn," Umie says, about to tell Hyousuke to call Sudou the 'Old Maid', but she decides against it. Spreading around a preference could imply a rumor in the negative of what her helpful words may try to paint. "You've been at more than one fight with him. I really wish it were that easy, but," she says, with a wry note to her tone, "if it were, this would've been resolved ages ago." She needs to talk to Shinjiro and Akechi, on that note. Are the two connected way back when, or was there more than one arson?

        Her and her friend. Tartarus. "Friend?" Umie blinks, thinking back. "Oh, you meant... those were members of SEES."

        Unless he meant... Shiryuu.

        Umie catches herself from making a face at that revelation. Shiryuu *is* a member of NWO, after all... despite what her feelings may be.

        "That's quite a nasty scar you'd got," she says, instead. "Mind telling me how you got it?"

        Distraction comes naturally, to Umie.
</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Hyousuke Suzuki has posed.
<poem>
Umie's comment on the Dark Hour was met with a low, knowing, grunt. He hadn't much to say on the topic, beyond the fact that he agreed - though the longing gaze he gave to the direction their targets had fled in perhaps spoke more than words could. Even when she continued on, it took him a moment or two to tear his gaze from that middle distance, instead coming to regard her. For the life of him, even with the brief glimpse he had caught of her face, he could not get a read on her.

Was she older than him, by the scant few years that Tamaki was? The same age as him, despite how he towered over her, his own shadow reaching as if to swallow her whole? It was difficult to say, and not something he deemed worth thinking on. What little time he had taken for such speculation had already left him silent for too long, and came dangerously close to distracting him from what she responded with after.

Memories of the art show crept into his mind's eye, and wound themselves around his consciousness like tendrils of choking ivy.
"We ran that piece of shit through..." He said, looking towards her, but not at her. He saw Sudou battered before him, Achilles' spear rending his flesh... only for him to flee, taking Jun with him. "How is he still alive..." The thought that he might have been the one to kill him did not seem to occur to Hyousuke - or did not bother him enough to shift his manner beyond frustration. Whatever the case may have been, the quiet way he spoke made it seem less like an answer to Umie, and thought he had not meant to let slip.

The mention of SEES was enough to have him focus entirely on her again. His mask shifted a little as his face contorted in concentration - he was unsure if he had heard the name before, but it seemed to remind him of something. Had a friend mentioned it in passing, perhaps? It was a matter to think on another time, or not at all. Something to ask someone at Gekkoukan about, maybe, given Tartarus' proximity to the school.
"Didn't know your ninja had a club." Hyousuke replied offhandedly. It was a casual remark, given all the weight that one might a joke about the weather, but in truth? It took every scrap of what little guile he had to pretend as if he was not probing for information. "...Could've used their help at the show. Might not've lost Kashihara-san..." Despite his best efforts, Hyousuke could not stop bitterness tingeing that last remark. It was not directed at her, nor at Shiryuu. It was simply the impotent frustration of someone mourning his own weakness. "As for the scar..."

He paused.

"I do." Hyousuke said, calmly, but dangerously. It was the only answer he cared to give when she mentioned the scar, and though he knew of no way for her to peer past the mirrored lens in place of his features, he still levelled a firm and wary look at her. A stern and silent warning to leave it - to back away from a topic that was not hers to speak on. "He remained quiet, letting the distant sounds of Shadows and the quiet whisper of a meandering breeze punctuate the end of his reply."
</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>
        Hyousuke wouldn't have been the first to make an attempt; Umie takes in his words as they are.

        "The Old Maid's Persona and circumstances protect him." Umie holds up a finger. "While the rumors that power the Old Maid's Curse aren't in effect in this specific case, as far as we know, it's likely that the rumors of what he's done has contributed to his image in people's eyes, creating a cognitive feedback loop. 'He's invincible, therefore he's invincible'. But that's just one theory. Challenging even a part of that conception with a rumor isn't a silver bullet either; I've tried."

        The mask may cover the top half of Umie's face, but the firm set of her lips and her tone note just how thrilled she is to have had this effort blow up in her face.

        Tossing the name of SEES out may have worked on some people as a distraction, but Hyousuke seems to be honed in. And why wouldn't he be? Ninjas don't exist.         

        'Could've used their help at the show.'

        "....." Umie looks down. Her lips purse, then heave a soft sigh. "No. It wouldn't have. It's not a matter of numbers."

        Shiryuu, in essence, already tried, by confronting Sudou himself, and he paid for it.

        The scar presents a case of its own of a topic that needs to be avoided, with Hyousuke. "Right, right," Umie says, casually, waving a hand. "I got the message."

        Curious, really. Is Hyousuke that ashamed of it?

        "... Umie Akabane, by the way," she volunteers, as a means to redirect the flow of the conversation again. "Boring, normal adult."        
</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Hyousuke Suzuki has posed.
<poem>
Umie speculated, and Hyousuke listened. He said nothing, choosing instead to listen intently. It was like speaking to a statue. The mask portrayed and impassive and unfeeling figure, the faint rise and fall of his chest was obscured by the darker hues of his costume amidst the dim light, and what little noise his breathing made was stifled quickly by the hardened plastic fitted over him like a muzzle.
"There's gotta be a way past that..." He murmured. Again, it was hard to tell whether he had spoken to her as a response, or if he had simply thought aloud without realising it.

But the conversation shifted before he had the chance to give it any real thought. The numbers, it seemed, were immaterial. But the topic of the ninja yet remained in his mind. Were relics like him real? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps it was simply a guise. But he knew that someone with the bearing of one had aided them in Tartarus. He knew that the supernatural had made possible things that he might have dismissed as flights of fancy a year before. And he knew that someone had taken his friend, and had hurt them in ways that demanded he take a pound of flesh in return.

Before he had a chance to ask about them, Umie introduced herself. Ever the unsubtle one, and judging any attempt to disguise his identity to her as closing the barn door after the horse had bolted, Hyousuke nodded in response and offered unto her his own name.
"Hyousuke Suzuki. Just a student, trying to..." He paused again, and frowned. What *was* he trying to do here? Fight things? Make a profit? Carve out a future? The thought gnawed at him, but he shook it off before it had a chance to sink its teeth into him for true, and bulldozed his way through the conversation. "...Trying to make some sense out of all this."

Another gap, filled by a low noise that fell somewhere between a sigh and a grunt.
"Don't know if either of us can really be boring or normal though. We're out here, dealing with ghosts, ninjas, thieves, killers... Most people only have to deal with one of them." He chuckled, but without any real relish, having only made the joke to lighten the mood and fill empty air. "Feels kinda... I dunno... Exciting, I guess?" It was a poor choice of words, and if the uncertainty in his voice was anything to go by, he knew it. But what other word could be given to that rush he felt when the clock's hands seized, and whole world stopped upon its axis?
</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>
        Whether Hyousuke meant to speak aloud or not, Umie seizes on it immediately.

        "It's not an impossibility, but it *is* a lock," Umie says, tilting her head with slow, sharp little smile as she taps her chin. "And a lock is simply a barrier with a cheat code known as a 'key'. The solution may not be in 'solving' it, but understanding how to get around it."

        "... Suzuki-kun, then. Ah, but it's good to have a have a proper introduction after all these times, isn't it?"

        The eyes behind the black and goldust scattered colors of Umie's mask (courtesy of a certain Kurou) become hidden as her eyelids lower halfway at Hyousuke's own pause.

        "That is all most of us can ever do," the blonde says, with a degree of empathy in her voice. "But all you can do is move forward on your course, and hold true to yourself."

        Hyousuke's reply brings a chuckle from Umie. "What, you mean you don't deal with them on a regular basis at school?" Pause. She squints, looking Hyousuke over. "... You... *are* school age, right? .... I swear, it gets harder and harder for me to tell..."

        It feels exciting, he says, while being uncertain about it, like voicing it aloud would be a taboo. She knows it well.

        "The Dark Hour creates a place where impossible things can and do exist... including people like us. Just don't take it for granted, or... fail to realize that not everyone feels the same way." Shinjiro comes to the forefront of Umie's mind.

        It was the space that she and Shiryuu found an unlikely connection.

        But, if Hyousuke asking about him, even indirectly, nags at her. She's unable to read in why way he may be seeking Shiryuu, but...

        The answer is the same, in all cases.

        "For that 'ninja' you saw," she begins, giving Hyousuke a level, direct tone. "There were circumstances that allowed us to gain an understanding of each other, but do not trust him yourself, or go seek him in any way. He is dangerous."
</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Hyousuke Suzuki has posed.
<poem>
A lock in search of a key, or a route that circumvented the door entirely. Yet more puzzles he had not the mind to solve. It was not a task suited to brute force or sheer strength of will - it required a sharp mind and deft hands. The mask shifted again as his lips curled, trying to find an expression they could settle upon, but finding nothing. Consternation, frustration, determination... all were candidates, but none felt right. The twitching of his mask ended, but it was an eventual thing, and did not come easily.

"Good to finally put a name to a face. Well, a mask." It was not so much a joke as it was a wry observation. The air did not feel right for raucous laughter and brash remarks. He might have even described it as somewhat sombre, given the nature of what they discussed. Nevertheless, he gave the remark a slight twinge of levity, attempting to keep the mood from growing more dour than he felt was appropriate. "And yeah, I'm still going to school. I'm not a uni student." Nor would he ever be, he thought grimly, his mind turning towards courses he could attempt to hold true to. Once more, it began to dredge up thoughts he did not care to think. Once more, he forced them back into the black and churning waters of his mind, hoping they might never see the light of day.

He chose not to address that he went to Kasugayama, and what lurked beneath the school likely fell within the purview of all four.

He considered her thoughts on the Dark Hour. He looked away, and gazed up, lifting his eyes from the middle distance to the murky green above. He could see no stars from where he stood, seeing only the pallor of the moon looming above, and the clouds scattered across the sky like thick strokes of paint upon a grim canvas.
"Don't worry about me." He said, his even - if not relaxed - tone bordering on dismissive. "I know better than to go blabbing. It's got me in enough trouble already." Again, he chuckled. Again, it rang hollow. Again, unpleasant thoughts surfaced, this time about rooftops and towers.

Again, he pushed them down.

Shiryuu became the topic, and though he knew not their name - nor even if they were the ninja he sought - Hyousuke could not help but feel a sense of foreboding when her words truly began to sink in. A long, tense, moment passed in silence as he considered his answer. Then, in a low voice, he responded.
"I don't." He said, about trusting him. "And I know." He said, about him being dangerous."But if I don't have a choice..." His words trailed off, like a stream draining unceremoniously into dirt, but there was no sense of dread to him. Even when faced with the prospect of an ignominious death, caution and fear did not hold any place in his mind. He seemed... accepting. As though it were a foregone conclusion that they would clash, and all he could do was accept it when it came to pass. "...We'll see what happens."
Miho Ijuuin has connected.
Miho Ijuuin has left for Rengedai - Main.
</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>
        The secret, of course, lies in the fact that some problems can be resolved with brute force.

        That method, however, is not available to someone like Umie. 

        "You'll see me without a mask eventually, don't worry," Umie quips. The wry, sometimes sarcastic tone comes to her naturally in this hour, provided she's not undertaking a battle. "It's not for people like you that I wear a mask, after all."

        Following the tilt of Hyousuke's head towards the sky, the blonde looks up as well. "When did you first see the Dark Hour, if you don't mind my asking?" A casual, roundabout way of asking 'when did you Awaken', but Umie's not about to reveal that.

        'Don't worry about me.'

        "Sorry, too late. I've seen the way you fight. It's impressive, but I know a person or two that would have some opinions on charging ahead like that." Meanwhile, Umie *never* has problems like that. Not at all.

        Umie Akabane has never once charged into a situation because she got ahead of herself. No way.

        "It's not the blabbing I'm talking about. Just..." she trails off, dismissing the thought with a wave of her hand. 

        The low voice, in regards to Shiryuu, causes Umie to tilt her head. Huh. Weird phrasing there, but perhaps, that's just the way Hyousuke is.

        She shakes her head. "You're better to avoid that choice altogether, with a lot of people. Choose your battles. An Old Maid is more than enough excitement for a lot of people. Though...." She considers. "Perhaps someone of your build'll do wonders for convincing a demon or two to cough up some information?" She smirks. "It's a lot easier to scare a demon than to demonstrate *why* they need to be scared."
</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Hyousuke Suzuki has posed.
<poem>
Hyousuke's own was a complete thing. From the uppermost edge of his brow, to the lowest point on his chin, not a single feature was left uncovered. The layer even served to stifle his voice somewhat, and disguise his tone. It was, in more ways than simply physical, armour. He was glad for it when they spoke, for it hid the twitch in his features when she spoke to worrying about him, however much the blow had been softened. He chose to address her question about the Dark Hour, rather than her remark about who would have problems with him wading into the fray, seeing it as the more banal of the two things to talk about.

"A few months now." He said, giving a vague answer that betrayed little. It wasn't a lie - not technically - and that was enough for him to speak naturally. Like he wasn't hiding information from her, in the hopes that it was not used against him. Though he was no Phantom Thief, he still had to maintain *some* level of opsec. He was close to two of them, after all. "It's hard to say for sure, everything's just been a blur." That part, he quietly admitted to himself, was not even a lie by omission. So much had happened in so short a time, and the future seemed nothing but ominous.

"Just...?" Hyousuke began to enquire, but dropped the matter when she dismissed it. It was only fair. All had their secrets, and he did not know her nearly well enough to bulldoze through and bluntly ask her to finish the thought. Before he could protest her warning him away from her friend again, however, she proposed an alliance. Hyousuke could not help but smile at the thought, and looked to her with zeal that threatened to burn through the gleaming layer hanging in front of his eyes. "Now you're talking. Wonder how confident those assholes are gonna be when they gotta pick on someone their own size."
</poem>


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