( 人斬り以蔵 ) — ᴍᴀɴsʟᴀʏᴇʀ ɪᴢᴏᴜ. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hitokiller) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
synflux2023-12-11 09:55 pm
hitokiller) wrote in synflux2023-12-11 09:55 pm
( open ) unfortunately, about me
WHO: Anyone and everyone.
WHAT: Izou being Izou.
WHERE: The busy streets of Shinjuku, what's left of the Nishimuki Tenjinsha shrine in Shinjuku, a run-down looking 7-10, etc.
WHEN: Sometime near the tail-end of the first week.WHAT: Izou being Izou.
WHERE: The busy streets of Shinjuku, what's left of the Nishimuki Tenjinsha shrine in Shinjuku, a run-down looking 7-10, etc.
WARNINGS: Mild violence (right now), severe intoxication.
█ 001, "some people make us feel more human". —
Gerroffa me, you—!
( the sounds of a struggle ensue, and suddenly a couple well-dressed gentlemen are shoving the offender out the club's door. it's pretty obvious he's a bit far-gone with the way he stumbles backwards, arms raises as if to protect himself or perhaps start throwing a mean punch. he doesn't get very far with the idea though, a quick swing of his arm completely missing its target to the irritation of the bouncers who were holding back as best they could. )
T-Try'na... laugh at me. I'll show ya... I'll show ya ALL! I don't forget anyhone... anyone who, crosses my...
( izou quickly discovers how difficult it is to move his mouth properly, visibly flabbergasted at how rapidly his words are starting to slur despite how often he's been through this song-and-dance. it's a familiar strangeness, a something he might find easier to digest as a problem if he weren't so horribly far-gone by most people's standards while a majority of those passing by opt to ignore his cursing and outbursts at the door. gradually, slowly, the chatty drunk realizes that no one's paying him any mind, and, with a couple exaggerated movements, places himself closer to the side of the street against a cold street-light. anything to keep the world from turning for a minute. anything to give him a little comfort.
he'll just... totally get up and leave, any minute now. with a groan, his head starts drooping against the steel that is clearly not designed to be a pillow, hands crawling clumsily up it for support. he's absolutely about to fall asleep in the middle of the city. )
█ 002, "and some people make us feel less human". —
( here, the ever present hum of the city was more faint, and the historic and solemn stone entryway of the temple, adorned with carved pillars and cracks, seemed all the more impressive in the darkness. in fact, one would even call it serene when compared to the hustle and bustle of neo-tokyo, so much so that it's a wonder a spot like this hasn't been entirely torn apart given its proximity to such ruin on the outskirts of shinjuku. tall stalks of grass blow delicately in a breeze, the inherent sensuality of their presence enough to beguile any visitor into venturing up the short steps and into the sacred.
it was easier to breathe here, and those with the courage to approach further into the center of the complex this late at night would see the triumphant emergence of greenery amidst the prayer chambers—new life among wood stained by time and rain. scenery worth committing to memory for anyone who might be losing hope. a glimpse into a world full of air for all who were suffocating.
yes... the perfect spot for some respite, if only a certain man hadn't been tailing behind whatever stranger came here for some peace of mind.
for izou, the night is far from suffocating—it's pleasant, full of sheltered places covered in withered leaves and welcoming to the quick manner his feet move familiarly on the ground without making a sound. a man in his element, aided by an abnormal adeptness in concealing his presence, listening carefully for the slightest shift in movement, the gentle smack of nervous lips. if he weren't so hungry, a cold reminder of how flippantly he tossed his cash around already, the thrill of stalking would bring an even bigger grin to his face... but whatever.
moments later, the soft clink of a blade being unsheathed could be heard as he raised it towards the back of his prey. )
Better start walkin' with a friend at night. Now, take out your valuables.
* alternatively, for those who aren't okay with being surprised and/or more than capable of noticing him following you despite the reduced effectiveness of his presence concealment skill: just assume you caught him before this.
█ 003, "and that is a fact as much as gravity is a fact". —
( it's a convenience store. you know. sickeningly bright, and with the same song looping for the past hour or so. it's the witching hour, and whoever shuffled in was probably just hungry... or bored.
a scrunkly-looking gentleman in an apron at the counter watches whoever's browsing with an impatient expression, a clock in the far-corner wall ticking needlessly the only other sound aside from the shop jingle. after a good ten minutes he smacks a hand down on the counter, shattering the banal background noise with his scratchy voice. )
I'm sick of ya criss-crossin' between shelves like a chicken with it's head chopped off. Buy somethin' or leave.
( my smoke break... )
* Anyone from Brimstone, feel free to recognize Izou from his loud demeanor around their commons.
█ 003, "and that is a fact as much as gravity is a fact". —
( it's a convenience store. you know. sickeningly bright, and with the same song looping for the past hour or so. it's the witching hour, and whoever shuffled in was probably just hungry... or bored.
a scrunkly-looking gentleman in an apron at the counter watches whoever's browsing with an impatient expression, a clock in the far-corner wall ticking needlessly the only other sound aside from the shop jingle. after a good ten minutes he smacks a hand down on the counter, shattering the banal background noise with his scratchy voice. )
I'm sick of ya criss-crossin' between shelves like a chicken with it's head chopped off. Buy somethin' or leave.
( my smoke break... )
* Anyone from Brimstone, feel free to recognize Izou from his loud demeanor around their commons.
no subject
(What an effective song, he thinks. Of course, he isn't terribly surprised by that, either. He claps and beckons for Izou to come closer, closer, and once he gets close enough, he holds out his hands for the man to grasp before his face meets the cement,)
Come along, come along. We'll get out of this cold together.
(There's probably a convenience store nearby that they can dip into for a warm drink and more lively song.)
no subject
well, it's not as if he has anything better to do than freeze at the side of the road as shoppers in their well-turned pumps that match their purse walk hurriedly by with a judging eye, so he continues to follow in all his inebriated, delirious splendor, growing more cognizant the longer he keeps up with this charade.)
If you're not a ghost leadin' me to my death, then wh-where're ya... why're ya—
( izou trails off mid-question, bare, calloused hands suddenly planted on the glass window of a convenience store they're traipsing in front of, his eyes, glued to a display of unassuming manjuu. then back to tsurumaru. then back to... the manjuu. )
no subject
(And to the convenience store they arrive. He steadies Izou, making sure he doesn't hit his face on the glass or anything that might hurt him. Or be too funny. It's no fun to pick on someone so pitiful.
Look at this man, though. The way he looks like a child staring into the display of a sweets shop. He can't help but reach out to pat his cheek and let out a bright laugh,)
Haha! Are you hungry? (Pat, pat.) If there's something you want, you should say it.
no subject
it's a good thing he's out of his mind, because being treated like a child would set him off for sure. for now, though... he's agreeable, hanging off every word and gesture as he speaks to tsurumaru in drunken awe at how well he listens. )
Manjuu...
( then, all of a sudden, there's a burning fervor to his pleading, his words quickening as though they might disappear if he doesn't get them out right away, fists balled against the glass. )
Get me one-a those manjuu, and I'll... I'll do yah, a favor. Anything. 'Cause there ain't, nothin'... Manslayer Izou ain't... capable...
( —of. a dangerous thing to promise, but when combined with that confidence and an empty account... )
no subject
That is, until he hears the name and there's only the briefest flash of surprise across his face before he reins his emotions back in, careful to not reveal too much too early.)
Hmm... (He hums. He has no use for a favor from another swordsman. When it comes to matters with a sword, he can take care of things on his own but--) Since you offered...
(He lets his voice trail and undoes his scarf, wrapping it loosely around Izou just before he dips into the store. He isn't gone for long. He returns a minute later with a small plastic bag at his side. He reaches in and offers a manjuu to Izou,)
Here you go, Izou-kun.
he won't...
and the drunken relief at getting to sate his hunger bulges like a muscle cut, the squish of the manjuu from paper to hand to mouth like a splay of blood against tongue, as if the need came from somewhere else, from a recollection of being so hungry that one might faint, meticulously picking at a wooden bowl with dirtied fingers until every grain of rice from it made its way through his teeth. he munches and munches, unable to pinpoint the flavor beyond its wheat-flour encasing, occasionally taking breaks to swipe away remnants of the filling from the corner of his mouth with a thumb.
—which he totally fails at, by the way. when he's done, there's still some leftover.
when izou finally appears ready to say something, a hand reaches out hurriedly in an attempt to slap it on the friendly-stranger-who-bought-him-something's shoulder and steady himself, the other quick to cover his mouth. either he's still chewing, or... uhmm, maybe he's feeling sick? he's not gonna— )
im crying
(Truly pitiful, he thinks, expression as perfectly kept as ever; pale gold eyes watching him with distant curiosity, his expression calm but unreadable. He watches how desperately the man reaches for the bun and scarfs it down as if it were his first meal in ages and his last for a long time. And yet, Tsurumaru only observes and quietly stores his observations away for now.
He says nothing as the man devours the manjuu and doesn't pull back when he reaches out for him. It takes him a second to realize what may be happening and his body goes from relaxed to suddenly alert and stiff,)
Eh, are you going to be sick?
(He places a hand on Izou's and shifts one leg back, ready to react in an instant,)
Do it away from me.
(He shoves the plastic bag at Izou. If he's going to be ill, let it not be on him.)
Oi, are you listening?!
(HE'S SCARED.)
no subject
bag it is, then.
naturally, 𝗔̶𝗡̶ 𝗜̶𝗡̶𝗗̶𝗘̶𝗦̶𝗖̶𝗥̶𝗘̶𝗣̶𝗜̶𝗧̶ 𝗦̶𝗖̶𝗘̶𝗡̶𝗘̶ 𝗢̶𝗖̶𝗖̶𝗨̶𝗥̶𝗦̶.̶.̶.̶
but it does little to sober him, his eyes shutting in clear discomfort, sniffling with a sick noise in his throat. another shiver later, and he's a least looking a little better. perhaps expelling all those chemicals is actually good for you, though he's not in the right frame of mind right now to reflect on it too deeply. )
S-Sorry... I, owe... ya, really... stranger...
( the stress of the night has clearly taken its toll on him inside-and-out, but at least it's finally clicked for him that this is... a flesh-and-blood person, perhaps, after physically putting a hand on him. he's about hit his limit in this thread. )
no subject
(Gross.)
You do.
(And he watches Izou carefully, making sure he's really okay. He's still standing but seems worse for wear. Wrinkling his nose at the whole thing, he reaches out to carefully tug at the edge of the scarf he'd wrapped around Izou earlier. Pulling it up to closer to his face, he sighs.
Like a messy child, isn't he? )
Well, it can't be helped. Lean on me. We'll get you somewhere warm.
(Back to base where he'll probably ditch Izou inside the entrance with a bottle of tea by his head or something. That's plenty mercy.)