synflux | ( closed ) i don't want to be pitied,

Far from it. If you need a break, I got everything covered.

( not a peep yet, huh. maybe their little captive is unrelated to the situation at hand with the way his gaze darts up at tsurumaru for something soft, like pity. that was common back in the day, the torment of individuals who may or may not have even been seen at the scene of the crime, the taste of metal on their lip or the heat of wax close to their toes.

but izou's not gonna ponder all that complicated stuff.

a tool like himself only needs to be useful, and the thought of LILITH doling this mission out to only a couple of them hums pleasantly against his skull. )

I don't believe for a second they got nothing to say. Though maybe... we oughta try somethin' different.

Are you sure?

(Elbow on his knee, face propped up on his hand as he muses.)

If he had something to say, I think he would have said it by now.

(Having someone who might believe him is like a light in the dark, a chance in a hopeless situation. It's clear that captive is calculating the situation now and figuring out who the good and bad is in this situation. He begins to please with Tsurumaru, swearing he has no idea what's going on. They got the wrong guy. He was just there to make fast cash. A quick buck.

And Tsurumaru listens. He listens perfectly, his expression one of patience and innocence. He shifts some, reaching to grab that bloodied and injured hand of his, holding it gently in his own...)

There, there. (And he squeezes, pressing down on his injured fingers until he begins to cry out again,) You've found your words again.

(And still, he's as calm and light as ever.)

What do you want to try, Izou-kun?

(He won't stop him. Despite all of that hope earlier, there is no "good" here.)

( it's such a simple, effective move that tsurumaru employs, and izou watches him do it unflinchingly.

it's not what he expected out of him, though, given the playful demeanor he's had thus far. though he guesses it's a different kind of playful, the way a ghost of a smile dances across his face as he applies pressure to their target.

it's a something izou's not going to forget anytime soon, even if he doesn't feel much sympathy for their guy who claims to be your run-of-the-mill thug.

as tsurumaru hands him the reins verbally again, izou plants his foot up against the table with an aggressive shove, causing the captive to squeak in shock. )

Lessee...

( a free hand runs contemplative along the scruff of his chin. hanging them upside-down seemed like too much effort. )

How 'bout... we play a little game. Show 'em the stills and see if they can guess where each was taken. Get one wrong, though, and...

( the "stills" in question being digital projections of various sites close to where the hybrids were last seen, and while this was entirely not fair, what method of persuasion was? )

(If it wasn't for his mangled and bloody fingers, this would surely be a reassuring squeeze and not more pressure. Their captive tries to pull away but Tsurumaru doesn't relent,)

I love games.

(He says so easily, eyes bright with something that could be excitement or madness.)

Do you have any now, Izou-kun?

(He lets go finally, giving much wanted relief and their captive doubles over as they try to catch their breath and bearings again.)

( oof my html mishap in the previous tag,

and it's there in that gaze that izou sees something briefly, the light of a hunger that he's tangibly familiar with, but can't exactly place, like the sky holding its breath for the rain on the shore of the riverbank he used to play as a child. he opts to let it go, not to question it for now, immediately distracted by their captive closing tight in on himself in pain.

a wave of the hand and izou brings up holograms of a few narrow, traditional alleyways that've been transformed in this futuristic landscape to simple tourist traps. well... tourist traps that were lacking in tourism given the state of the world, which explained why they'd declined over-time.

the poor injured captive glances up, likely eager to be set free as soon as possible, mouthing off about the so-and-so he knows that eats here or grifts there.

good. they're making progress.

instead of responding, izou tilts his neck for a satisfying crack, and to tsurumaru: )

Hoh. What sorta "games" are you into?

(I barely even noticed...

It's good information so far. He's sure someone can use it later to look up the names they've gotten so far but none of it is really related to their actual mission, is it? He's certain Izou has caught on to this too and he just crosses his arms as they go through the footage,)

Hm?

(He tilts his head and thinks for a moment, making a point to draw out the silence that follows,)

... I like a lot of old games. Matching painted seashells and catching temari...

(Definitely older hobbies from an era long, long past.)

Do you know "onigokko?"

(Essentially: Tag. Where one player pretends to be the oni chasing after the child who tries to run away. If the oni grabs the child, the oni wins.

When he asks, he looks right at their captive, too like he's already decided what he wants to play.)

( huh.

izou scrunches his nose a little at the question.

sure, a couple of those games ping him as memorable, but... they're all for children. )

How old are you, exactly?

( nevermind the captive. that shit can wait. )

(Innocently,)

Me?

(Like he's talking to someone else. He stops to think for a moment and begins to count on his fingers... One by one, each finger goes up and then down again. After a couple of rounds, he hesitates and seems a little less certain,)

I've lost count.

(Their captive looks at him. Brows furrowing. How does someone totally lose count of their age? And by the number of times Tsurumaru has gone up and down on his fingers... he's counted at least a few decades. Over forty when he appears to be in his 20s? As if catching on, Tsurumaru adds lightly,)

I've been around since at least the Heian era.

(And their eyes go wide. They can't possibly be hearing that right.)

Are you surprised?

(Is he asking Izou or their prisoner?)

H-Heian?!

( wide might be an understatement.

the interrogation is totally on pause as izou deals with this information, almost wobbling with how it threatens to disrupt his balance.

that was, like... how many years back again? pretty far back, he can recall. )

But you don't look a...

( —a day over twenty, at least to izou, and as he slides this new piece into the puzzle that makes up tsurumaru in his mind, he removes his boot from the table. slides a hand into a pocket as if that'll bring some more composure to the situation before he speaks. their hostage friend watches the exchange incredulously, any complaints or phrases about wanting to be let out dying in his throat at their current back-and-forth. )

Is that why you... ( his one eye narrows, all that sword stuff from before coming back to him— ) why you've been actin' so familiar with me? What are you, an age-old demon or somethin'? Or somethin' like... me?

( who for all accounts and purposes looked human and was human now, but. )

(Oh, what a reaction. He absolutely takes delight in it. If they were in a better setting, he would be having so much fun but he stays ever mindful. There's a prisoner here. There's a job to do. And he can use this to his advantage.)

Maybe.

(He hums. Maybe he is a demon. Maybe he's something like Izou. He holds up one finger and with each following statement, he lifts another,)

I've been a blessing. A protector. Divine. Recently, I've been a messenger from Heaven and then an oni.

(Five fingers, five roles.

Eyes shifting, glancing at their prisoner, smiling the smile of someone enjoying an inside joke. Always one for dramatics, as if on cue, the air in the room shifts, a warm breeze swelling and centering around Tsurumaru. Cherry blossom petals manifest and in a burst of white light and energy... a sword appears in his outstretched hand. Fingers closing around it, wind dying down, and now suddenly armed,)

You can face "divine punishment" (tenchuu, which he makes no point of acknowledging Izou. He shouldn't have to.) or "suffering." (Ku. The suffering of being human.) But if you speak, you may find mercy.

(This poor guy was not paid enough to deal with this. He's trapped in a room with devils and his mouth hangs open. It's very clear his resolve his breaking and he might have something to offer for a chance out.)

( it's not a clear-cut answer that he receives, and izou looks even more wary for it, but the display of mysticism when combined with the shocked shriek of their captive is enough to put even him on edge.

this sword-related specter or whatever is impressive to say the least, and it's the mention of divine punishment that has izou freeze.

there's no way that word wouldn't ping him in some way, wouldn't run cold under his skin with the memory of each kill and with the shock of someone other than him uttering it with meaning in this decaying world.

their hostage, too pressed at this point and completely unwilling to suffer whatever the consequences might really be, leans back so violently that the chair itself seems to shudder. there's some babbling about illegal tech and invisibility and whatnot, and izou just barely registers that as being useful while he's busy thinking about tsurumaru. LILITH is watching, though, of course, and clocks the information as legitimate, recognition of it coming through the speaker. )

About time.

( and then, to tsurumaru, a glint in his eye: )

I got a couple questions if you're willin' to answer 'em. Outside.

(The announcement goes off. They've gotten what they've come for and their reward will transferred to them the moment their information is verified.

Tsurumaru holds his position, sheathed sword in hand... and then lowers it. There's no need to continue but ooooh, did he love the look on their face. It makes him smile and he could preen like a bird right now, all pretty and proud of what they've achieved. )

Hm?

(He would have expected Izou to be as pleased but he supposes the man has questions, right? How long has it been since he'd laid out the first crumbs?)

I guess it's time.

(For answers, right? And he pats Izou on the shoulder as he practically skips ahead, right out that open door.)

Let's go, Izou-kun.

( the image of tsurumaru preening is so cute...

and their captive is on the verge of tears, beyond relieved to see the two of them shuffling their way out of a room that's been a literal nightmare for them for the past hour or so.

when they exit, though, izou rounds on his companion who may or may not still be holding tight to that steel, fingers curled inward as they grasp at his collar in the close quarters of a hall so blindingly white it might swallow tsurumaru whole. )

If yer that old, then... —how come you didn't say anything this whole time?

( pieces of a puzzle are slowly sliding into place, and while he's stern, it's a sternness without teeth. a one thats unnerved by what he doesn't know. )

(Still holding his sword, the gold fastenings clink delicately as he's forcefully handled. There's a certain level of resistance as he holds his ground but he relents enough is free to grab him, bring him down, push him back...

(Yes, he thinks, this isn't really surprising given what he recalls.)

He only smiles, eyes bright, as playful and light as ever,)

You never asked.

(Of course, he hadn't helped either.)

( true. he hadn't asked. izou kept to himself, almost out of habit.

he's steady, the tension brought on by this reveal practically thickening the air between them on his end. )

That mean you...

( his grip loosens a bit, more a shocked reflex than anything. )

You know everything about me? You haven't been laughin' at me this whole time, have you?

Not everything.

(It's true. There's no way he would know everything. Raising a hand to pat Izou's fist on his shirt,)

Now, now. Why would I laugh?

(Pat, pat,)

You're a fine swordsman. Of course, a sword would know you.

( closed ) i don't want to be pitied,

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