Control Tower @blackmailism - Tumblr Blog

katsuragi-yako:

There had been a slight, nagging discomfort about the situation in the back of her mind ever since it had dawned upon her that Hiruma wanted something from her. After all, their meeting had been a rocky one, and she had been used before. It was an uneasiness that she couldn’t exactly claim had disappeared quite yet, even though she had agreed to his deal and had accompanied him to his practice. But there was something about seeing the satisfaction in his manic grin whenever his teammates made progress, about seeing all of the sweat and effort he poured into leading them, about seeing how seriously he took the sport of American football. It made all the questions swirling in her head about whether she’d made the right decision or not quiet a bit.

Her lips curled into a smile of her own, mirroring Anezaki’s own at the warning she’d given to her. After working with a literal demon for months on end, Yako certainly knew when to keep her mouth shut about such things. Telling the prickly quarterback that she could see how much he cared about his team would be just as risky as telling Neuro that she could see how much his interest in humans had grown beyond what they could provide him in the way of food.

No, her mouth would stay clamped shut while her eyes would simply watch fondly from the side.

She spent the rest of the time listening to anything else that the manager wished to tell her and then took just a bit more of her time to ask the questions that she had been holding in. By the time that the players’ practice seemed to be winding down, she felt that she had a fairly decent grasp of how the game worked and some of the more simple plays that the Deimon Devil Bats ( she’d almost choked upon hearing the name ) often used. Her understanding of it was far from complete, though; she knew that over the course of the next week or so she would probably have to be reading up on football whenever she could spare the time between work and school.

❝I think I have all the basics down,❞ Yako replied, standing up as Hiruma made his way back over. It did not slip through her notice that Anezaki had seemed to have a sixth sense to his approach, but she quickly brushed it aside for later so that she could continue. ❝And I’ll be sure to do some reading on my own time to learn more.❞

Her response issued a wild grin from the quarterback -- it was disturbing on a certain level, that while the rest of the team appeared entirely spent and exhausted from such an intense practice, Hiruma seemed to be just as thriving and lush with vitality as he had at the start of the session. He had an almost Spartan-level of energy, it seemed as he propped his cleat up on the bench beside the young detective and braced his elbow against his bent knee, leering over her with a sadistic glean.

❝ – yeah, you be sure to do that, fuckin’ piggy. ‘Cause startin’ tomorrow, yer gonna be promotin’ us at every interview, every news report, every friggin’ publicity opportunity ya get. ❞

Clearly he already had carefully laid plans for her, much to the obvious chagrin of his manager, whose expression had morphed into one of exasperation as she sighed behind him and simply shook her head. Quite obviously, she knew precisely where this was going, as she had seen it many times before, though she said nothing as the quarterback continued.

❝ – But not before you sit in one our scrimmage game tomorrow afternoon. ❞

#katsuragi-yako

@Mun: It's been a bit! How are you doing?

#[ doing well! ]#[ thank you! ]#[ how are you! ]#Anonymous

rpmusings-galore

Bottom line is, even if you see them coming,

you’re not READY for the big moments.

The big moments are going to come.

You can’t help that.

It’s what you do a f t e r w a r d s that counts.

That’s when you find out who you are…

katsuragi-yako:

Despite the fact that Anezaki did an excellent job of breaking down what seemed to be practically everything about the game, the girl still found herself reeling at certain points from trying to cram all of the information into her head so quickly. It almost felt as though she was cramming for an exam the night before she’d be taking it. One thing was for sure: if she was going to need to know all the ins and outs of the game to realistically promote the team, then she would have to do more “studying” on her own time as well. Hell, maybe she’d just start going to watch more of their practices and games ( when her free time allowed ) just to get a better grasp of it. And to also keep up appearances, of course. If she was going to be promoting Hiruma’s team, it was obvious that she’d need to show up to some of the games.

Crossing her legs and idly tapping her fingernails against the wooden bench, Yako listened intently as the manager broke down another play for her. A few questions burned upon the tip of her tongue, but she waited patiently for an opportunity to jump in and ask them. After all, she didn’t want to derail the girl that was so graciously explaining everything for her in such great detail. And, thankfully, the current play wasn’t all that difficult to comprehend. It didn’t add more questions to the pile and was fairly straightforward.

She nodded her head a few times in understanding before lifting her gaze upwards to look at the field when Anezaki instructed, watching whatever the players did carefully. Though, for a split second, her mind wandered and she wondered if Neuro was waiting for her to arrive. She had said the previous day that she would pop in to search through some papers to see if she could find any new potential cases from them. But her entire plan had gotten sidetracked after meeting Hiruma. Uneasiness suddenly pooled in her stomach as she pondered all the ways that the demon would potentially punish her for showing up late or not at all, depending on how long she would be watching the team practice and discussing anything else she needed to know with the quarterback.

Though, she remembered with a soft sigh, if Neuro had truly needed her for anything beyond looking through articles, he most certainly would have sought her out himself. Perhaps some form of punishment awaited her in the future ( especially if he disapproved of the deal she’d struck with Hiruma ), but when wasn’t it? It definitely wasn’t anything new.

The uneasiness in her gut quickly switched to exasperation as her eyes honed in on the players once more to resume watching them play. And just in time, it seemed, as Anezaki pointed out that Hiruma was apparently making some sort of special pass. Or, at least, that’s what it sounded like it was, considering it had a title that sounded like it had come straight out of the 777 Tools of the Demon World. Brown eyes flicked across the field to focus in on the quarterback to watch him throw. And true to its name, the ball practically whipped through the air like a bullet, ruffling hair and jerseys as it went before slamming straight into the hands of the receiver. For a moment, Yako almost thought that the poor boy would sprain or break something; but upon a closer look, he seemed perfectly fine, raising the ball into the air triumphantly.

❝Ah! He did it!❞ she exclaimed, a surprised and impressed smile quickly spreading across her face. ❝Good job!❞

She shouted the encouragement without thinking in the direction of the field, though her voice was easily drowned out by the sound of bullets firing at the ground as Hiruma berated the player for holding the ball the way he was. Still, even from where she sat, the so-called “detective” could see the grin upon his lips and the satisfaction in his stance. He was obviously pleased too, even if the words he spoke did not show it. And that alone was enough for a single pair of puzzle pieces to click together in Yako’s mind.

❝–Hiruma-san… really cares about this, doesn’t he? Both playing football and his team,❞ she said softly before she could think to stop herself.

Mamori’s smile visibly softened at Yako’s gentle assertion, and her blue eyes slipped back across the field to take in the lanky form of the manic quarterback with a certain fondness that she had no doubt developed through working closely with him for so long. When Sena had first joined the American football team, she held nothing but shallow contempt for the manipulative delinquent that ran the club -- and if anyone had ever suggested that she would ever feel anything else for him, such as sympathy, camaraderie, or admiration, she would have righteously scoffed and had them committed. And yet ...here she was. Here they all were, working towards achieving a goal that had become more than just Hiruma’s greatest hope -- it had become all of their shared dream.

“...yes. He does. More than he cares about anything else, I suspect. But don’t let him know that you know that, or he’ll double down and be extra cruel to you to trick you into thinking otherwise.”

She joked and held her finger up in front of her smiling lips, flashing Yako a sly wink -- she had learned how to play Hiruma’s games long ago, and she’d gotten pretty good at them if she did say so herself. Though in spite of her practice, he almost always still managed to get the best of her -- but she supposed that was the way it went when you played the Devil’s games. The Devil would always win.

Once practice began to wind down, Hiruma yanked his helmet off and slung it over his shoulder as he sidled back across the field to the bench where the pair were watching. Without a single word or even a glance of acknowledgement, Mamori was up and passing him a bottle of water and a clean towel which he dragged across his face to swipe away some of the sweat before slinging it around his neck -- the pair worked seamlessly in tandem, like a well oiled machine.

❝ – so, did the fucking manager explain everything to you? Or do I have to waste my breath? ❞

#katsuragi-yako

rpmusings-galore

I promised you I’d never give up!

That sounded very much like Hiruma-san, Mamori thought to herself with a painfully tight smile -- she was also fairly skeptical about the young woman’s assurance that she would be able to handle whatever Hiruma threw at her. Of course, this was in no part due to some doubt regarding the girl’s capabilities; rather it was from the experience of having seen first hand just how hard Hiruma tended to drive people, particularly those he was using for his own selfish whims. Still, she continued to smile in spite of her misgivings; a talent she had honed quite finely in the continued presence of the manic quarterback.

“Ah, well ...if you’d like, then I can happily explain to you some of the basic rules of the game!”

The manager appeared only too enthused to help educate the newcomer, and for approximately the next hour she spread out her play books and set about explaining the points system and objectives of the sport. She then moved on to dissecting the rules of the game, the player positions, and all of their respective duties and expectations. Occasionally, when she noticed the boys were practicing a significant drill, she would direct Yako’s attention to the field and explain the purpose for each one, such as how the ladder drills served to improve the players’ running reflexes and the like.

Her brilliant blue eyes were raptly ensnared by the sun as it was caught by Hiruma’s row of silver earrings when he reared his arms back, and she watched as Monta ( a much shorter player with spiky brown hair ) rush down the field. She turned Yako’s attention downfield to the receiver with a patient smile.

“Oh, look! It looks like Hiruma-kun is going to throw his Devil Laser Bullet! Let’s see if Monta can catch it this time.”

True to her predictions ( rather remarkable that she could discern which type of pass the quarterback was going to throw from simply his stance ), the manic blond launched the ball with all the force of a rocket launcher. The ball carved a path straight down the middle of the field, the spin on it so intense that the wind around it blew back the hair of all the players in the vicinity. Any sane person would have surely thrown themselves out of the way of the powerful projectile, but at the far end of the field, Monta turned and staggered his feet shoulder length apart, with one foot slightly farther back than the other to brace himself for the impact. The ball made contact with monster-truck force right into the receiver’s gut -- but when the dust cleared, it was evident that the ball wasn’t buried in his stomach. Rather it was still spinning in the cradle of his smoking gloves. Once it finally came to a rest, the receiver unleashed a wild grin and hoisted the ball high up into the air with victory shout of “ -- CATCH MAX!!!”

Hiruma’s trusty AK-47 assault rifle made another appearance from seemingly nowhere, as he proceeded to fire off a slurry of rounds at the receiver’s feet, which caused the poor player to jolt and dance around in a panicked attempt to avoid the fray.

❝ – don’t ever hold the ball up with one hand like that, you fucking monkey shit !! Do you want the other team to slap it right out of yer friggin’ hands?? ❞

--still, in spite of his scolding and the rapid gunfire, Hiruma’s smile held all of the enthusiasm that Monta’s had only moment prior.

#katsuragi-yako #[ ahhh finally have muse for this dick ]

katsuragi-yako:

She was no stranger to being dragged places, even if it was a little odd to have it done to her by someone other than her partner. Hiruma ( though his tug lacked any regard for whether she could keep up or not ) was still more pleasant to be pulled along by, simply because he chose her collar as his grabbing point, rather than her head. There was very little resistance in her frame as he dragged her along, since Yako had already resigned herself to the strange fate of being a part of his “slave network”. She was much more focused upon watching the other members of the team run their drills, trying to dredge up anything that she could remember about American Football.

Or, at least, until they reached their destination and her new acquaintance began to tell her where to sit and who to talk to if she had any questions. And, frankly, she almost thought it a godsent that there was someone who would be able to help her understand the sport that she suddenly found herself promoting a team for and perhaps other details as well. But, before the girl could even follow the point of his finger, she felt a swift kick to her stomach, shoving her down onto the bench behind her.

❝–Oof!❞ she exclaimed, more from surprise than anything else. And though her belly gave a few displeased rumbles, the so-called “detective” showed barely any sign of losing her lunch. Instead, she glared up at Hiruma in exasperation for a second or two until he dropped his bag onto her lap.

It was just as heavy as she remembered it being when she had been holding it, and Yako let loose a yelp similar to the one from earlier when he’d plopped it into her arms. He truly must have been strong to be able to carry it around as though it weighed nothing at all, especially with one hand! She still wanted to know what on earth he kept in it.

And the question was right on the tip of her tongue at the exact moment that he bent down to unzip the bag and pull out what was very clearly a gun. But not just any gun; it wasn’t like the guns she’d seen Sasazuka and the other officers use. It was like something out of an action film or the military–a rifle of some kind, if she had to take a guess. Which was very clearly illegal, considering the fact that he was still in high school like herself. Did his network really stretch so far that he was able to obtain a weapon like that?

–Did his network really stretch so far that he felt completely comfortable pulling it out at his own school and firing it so nonchalantly…?

❝Where did you…? How did you…?❞ Yako started to ask, before the shock and surprise finally drained from her face and was replaced with exasperation once again. ❝–I guess the better question is why do you need a gun like that for football practice, Hiruma-san?❞

Frankly, he had been expecting a much more horrified reaction than that from her. The evidence against this girl’s relative normalcy was steadily piling up, he noted to himself ; it was almost as if she was accustomed to these sorts of outrageous and terrifying things. He made a mental footnote to have one of the lower level slaves from his beta network trail her the following week to see just what kind of a crazy life she led. Even for a private detective, to have a military-grade armament whipped out so suddenly should have at least been due cause for her to blink.

❝ -- isn’t it fucking obvious? It’s for motivation!! ❞

He cackled, emphasizing his point by firing off a few rounds directly at the feet of a gaggle of players who had just finished running laps and appeared to be catching there breath. Apparently this was an inexcusable offense to the demon, who fired off several more rounds around their feet as the began to dance in terror to avoid losing any toes.

❝ -- did I tell ya you could rest yet?? Ten more laps!! Whoever finishes last plays a penalty game! ❞

He crowed, which served to send the group of players barreling down the track as though they were running for their lives -- and to be fair, Hiruma certainly seemed adept at convincing them that they were. The only respite from the scream of his artillery came when the girl with the clipboard stormed up to him and threw her hand up onto the barrel of the weapon, yanking it down toward the ground and subsequently forcing his finger off the trigger. Hiruma appeared unperturbed by her interruption -- rather, he appeared rather amused as they exchanged words. But they weren’t exchanged verbally -- instead, Hiruma lifted his lithe fingers and began to flash her a series of hand signs that in spite of how quickly he’d shown them she’d seemed to deftly comprehend. She replied just as quickly, with an indignant expression, and his response to the reddening in her cheeks was a shrill and merciless laugh as he pointed towards the befuddled detective on the bench. “Brief the scrub,” was all he said before he shouldered past the brunette girl and sauntered off towards the field where the rest of the team were running drills. The girl -- who so happened to be the manager of the team, hiked her shoulders up to her ears and exhaled a short huff of breath in sheer outrage before turning to Yako with a kind and motherly smile ; not even remotely close to the seething expression she’d been directing at the quarterback only moments ago.

“ -- ugh!! That bully! ...hello. My name is Anezaki Mamori. I’m the football club manager -- I’m sorry for whatever Hiruma-san has dragged you into. You don’t have to do anything he says. “

She extended her hospitality with a bow, but the way her smile thinned when she delivered that last line indicated that she didn’t truly believe what she was saying -- no matter how badly she may have wanted to.

#katsuragi-yako

katsuragi-yako:

While it irritated her that he chose to not provide her with any sort of answer ( especially since he had seemed rather eager to have her “promote” a team for him ), Yako let the silence between them stretch on and did not push for any more information. She was used to having her questions ignored by Neuro, and more often than not it was because he either wanted her to figure it out by herself, or because he was going to show her rather than tell her. Or some sort of combination of the two. And while she hadn’t known Hiruma long, the way that he appeared to walk with more purpose than earlier made her think that he might have similar reasons for not responding.

Perhaps he was going to show her the team that she was going to be “promoting”, rather than try to explain something that she obviously wasn’t that familiar with.

With that hope settled in her mind, she continued to hurry after him, managing to keep up with his pace as he moved down the street and through the crowds of people. Yes, he walked fast, but not any faster than her partner. It was a speed that was manageable, even with her rather full stomach.

And in less time than she had expected, Yako found herself standing outside of a school, staring at a sports field where a group of boys were practicing and running drills. Tilting her head a little, her brows furrowed in contemplation. While it certainly looked as though there were enough people to probably form a team, it still seemed like a small number. Most of the teams at her school had more members. The girl bit chewed on her lip absently while she continued to observe, before her eyes lit up a little when she saw one of the boys throw an distinctly shaped ball. So it was American football. That could possibly explain it; she didn’t exactly hear about it as much as other sports. Perhaps it wasn’t exactly as popular? Which was maybe why Hiruma wanted someone like her to promote the team in the first place?

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted when he dropped his bag into her arms, a soft yelp of surprise and effort slipping from her lips. It was much heavier than it appeared, and she felt her entire frame waver under the weight for a few moments before she managed to retain her balance. What on earth was he carrying around?! But before she could even try to ask, she noticed that he had already made his way inside of the school grounds.

❝Hiruma-san, what–?❞ Yako began to call after him before cutting herself off with an exasperated sigh. ❝He’s almost as bad as Neuro, jeez.❞

Within less than ten minutes, the spiky, bleach blond head of the Quarterback re-emerged from the clubhouse -- though his manner of dress was a complete juxtaposition from the solid black ensemble he’d been sporting before. Now he resembled the other members of the team who were pulling laps around the field, apparently finishing with their warm ups. His jersey was a striking combination of white and red with single, significant digit printed clear across the front and back -- the number one. His shoulder pads made his frame seem significantly broader than it had before as he slipped past the fence and snatched up his bag from the young detective’s straining hold ( with only one hand, mind you ) and hoisted it up onto his shoulder. Hooking his fingers in the crisp collar of her school uniform shirt, he dragged her onto the school grounds and parked her on the edge of the field.

❝ – alright, fucking detective. Park yer ass on that bench there and fucking pay attention. If you have any questions, ask the fucking manager. ❞

He directed one long, bony finger toward the girl with the shoulder-length chestnut hair and the silver whistle around her neck. Then he proceeded to lift his knee and bring his cleat right up into the center of her incredibly full stomach, and kicking her down onto the bench. He dropped the heavy bag square in her lap and bent down to rifle through it before pulling out ( much to her certain and abject horror ) a military-grade assault rifle. Flashing her a positively manic grin, he turned sharply towards the hundred yard line and hoisted the firearm high in the air, letting loose a slew of bullets that rang out across the field in a high-pitched scream of ammunition. The entire team seemed to collectively jolt -- as should be expected of anyone who heard such a blaze of gunfire ; but this was somehow different. Rather than dropping down to the ground or looking around in a panicked attempt to determine the source of the gunfire... they almost seemed to cringe with the terrifying revelation that they already knew precisely who had fired the shots. And frankly, they all seemed much more petrified of the man toting the gun than of the possibility of getting shot.

❝ – alright, fucking brats!! Fall in line!!! ❞

The blond’s scathing voice rang out across the field with another slew of gunfire close behind as he marched down the line toward the rest of the team.

#katsuragi-yako

katsuragi-yako:

The vicious jabs at the amount of food that she’d consumed managed to pull forth a sigh and somewhat exasperated look from her, but no genuine anger or even irritation appeared to lurk in her eyes because of it. Insults big and small were constantly thrown her way because of it; whether they came from a demon, a tabloid, a random stranger off of the street, or Hiruma, it was all the same. And while she still felt a certain amount of embarrassment about her appetite, she did not get nearly as scathed by such comments as she used to. It all rolled off of her like water off of a duck’s back.

Even as he laughed and claimed what she’d ordered could have fed a sports team for a year, Yako followed closely behind him with her eyes drilling into the back of his head. Curiosity and suspicion burned in her gaze, and she’d barely even noticed as the staff of the restaurant all collectively breathed large sighs of relief when they stepped outside. No, all of her attention and focus was honed in on hearing what it was that he wanted her to promote for him. Just like she had been approached by an “information broker of sorts” in the past, so too had she been used for promotion purposes. Or, that had been the cover story, at least.

And while the “detective” did not get the same uneasy feeling that she’d gotten in that situation, she couldn’t deny that she suddenly felt just slightly more cautious than she already had been. Hopefully, it wasn’t another cover for something far more sinister.

❝–A what? A football team?❞ Yako asked, hastening her pace so that she could walk side by side with Hiruma. Her expression had quickly turned to one of confusion as she stared up at him, searching for more exposition. ❝You… want me to promote a team? Which one? And why?❞

The quarterback didn’t see fit to answer her query, instead pushing on with his monstrous little dog keeping closely at his heels. The long strides of his legs carried him more quickly than most of the other pedestrians -- if he were being honest, he was surprised that she was able to keep up with him. Most of the less statuesque members of his team often had to scurry to keep up with him, but she almost seemed accustomed to it. Perhaps it was odd for someone to notice something so insignificant, but when it came to Hiruma ...there were very few who observed anything quite as closely as he did.

Before long, the blackmail artist’s sharp, intimidating steps came to halt in front of a chain-link fence that stretched to span the entire perimeter of what appeared to be a high school football field. On the other side of it, a gaggle of boys in red and white uniforms appeared to be running laps and practicing different drills -- a girl with short brown hair and a clipboard was directing them with an encouraging smile and the use of a silver whistle dangling from around her neck.

The spiky-haired dictator whirled around and dumped the full weight of his duffle bag down into the tawny young detective’s unsuspecting arms -- it was a feat that she’d been able to catch it, considering that ( unbeknownst to her ) it contained an entire armament of assault rifles and grenade mods.

❝ -- wait right here, fucking pig. ❞

The devil declared with a wide, manic smile before disappearing behind the white stone wall of the building and into a little brown shack that appeared to be a makeshift club room.

#katsuragi-yako

You are offered two pills. One red and the other blue. If you take the red one you will taste the flavour of cherry mint but if you choose the blue one... it will be flavoured hard mint. Choose wisely.

❝ – uhh ...the blue mint, I guess.

Fuckin’ freak. ❞

#Anonymous

three potatos to Ojo White Knights under the sky. Seven to Seibu in the wild west. Nine potatos to Shinryuji doomed to fail. One for the dark lord in his dark throne in the field of Deimon where the shadows lie. One potato to rule the all, one potato to find them, one potato to bring them all and in the blackmail bind them. In the fields of deimon where the shadows lie. *You received the one potato*

#[ been awhile potato anon! ]#[ good to see you ]#[ also mun is a big LOTR fan so WIN ]

katsuragi-yako:

In truth, she was actually quite surprised that he took her hand and shook it… so normally. The girl had half expected him to either fake her out again, not even bother to meet her halfway, or try to yank her forward to plant her face in one of the few unfinished desserts. Based on how they’d met, it wasn’t exactly all that unwarranted for her to have such suspicions, after all. But it seemed that he took his business deals just seriously enough to not pull any sort of stunt right as everything was being sealed. Afterwards, however? She definitely had her doubts.

Especially if the glean in his eyes and the curve of his smile spoke for anything.

She’d grown rather used to seeing similar cues from her partner, and while they were being displayed upon another face, it did not stop the metaphorical warning bells from going off inside of her head. And the tight squeeze he delivered in correspondence with his ominous words only made them ring louder. From her point of view, Yako had looked at the deal from every angle, doing the best she could to evaluate it and search for ways that it could majorly screw her over. Which was, admittedly, hard to do when he supposedly didn’t even know what he wanted from her yet. Or, so he’d said. And yet, there he was, snickering as though she’d fallen into a trap.

Perhaps she had. The way Hiruma instantly threw down the card to cover the cost of their meals ( she secretly thanked every deity that she could think of when he did ) and suggested that they go somewhere else to discuss her promoting something for him, the “detective” suspected that he’d had an idea of how to use her from the very beginning.

❝–Propaganda?❞ Yako asked, quickly shoveling the last bits of a pie slice into her mouth before grabbing her bag so she could follow after him. ❝What sort of… propaganda are we talking about? Oh, and ah… thank… thank you for the meal.❞

Once the card had been returned by the waiter and subsequently slipped back into the jean pocket on his slender hip, he pushed his chair out from the table with a loud, exaggerated scrape against the floor. Cerberus, who had been snoring soundly up until that point, lept up to attention as his Master moved to depart and sidled alongside him lazily, accompanying the pair out the front door of the little bistro as the little bell over the entryway sounded to signal their leave. The devil all but cackled mercilessly as she attempted to insinuate that the literal feast she’d just stuffed herself full on could possibly be considered simply “a meal.”

❝ -- KE KE KE KE !!! A meal ?? Maybe if you weighed as much as a fuckin’ elephant, that might’ve passed for a meal! That was enough ta feed a whole football team for a goddamn year! ❞

And he would certainly know, being the control tower of one such team himself. Gym back teeming with heavy weaponry and his vicious hell-hound’s leash looped lazily around the crook of his elbow, he cut a path down the street with the female detective in tow.

❝ – Speakin’ of which, that’s exactly what we’re gonna be promoting ; or ta be more specific, what you’re gonna be promoting, fucking detective. ❞

#katsuragi-yako

katsuragi-yako:

Though a certain amount of suspicion was still floating in her thoughts and clinging tightly to her mind about the demonic nature that he presented, his words did a good job of centering her focus once more. Even if she still had her doubts, whether or not he was human didn’t exactly matter. Hiruma was, at very least, a benefit to her, even if she didn’t really know how she would end up helping him. But he seemed to think that they could be useful to each other, so he must have seen something in her that he deemed worth using.

And while many might have been frightened or appalled at the idea of being treated like a resource or tool by someone such as him, Yako was hardly fazed. He would also be feeding her information when she needed it, after all. Not to mention that the pictures he had of her in his possession were likely nothing she needed to be truly wary of. If he pushed the limits of what he would want in return for providing her with information, it wasn’t as though she couldn’t cut ties and weather the media getting their hands on even more embarrassing shots of her to plaster on a tabloid.

There just wasn’t exactly a losing outcome that she could see. Maybe she’d receive both a tongue lashing and actual lashing from her partner later if he deemed the deal unsatisfactory, but it wasn’t as though she wouldn’t have been getting it anyway. Raising an eyebrow, the girl set down her fork and stretched her arm across the table to hold out her hand.

❝I don’t know if flattery’s the word I’d use but… In any case, yes, we’ve got a deal, Hiruma-san.❞

If she couldn’t see a downside to this agreement, then it was likely because Hiruma didn’t want her to see it. There was an unmistakably sadistic glean of satisfaction in his sharp, green gaze as he reached across the table to meet her halfway, snatching her willowy hand up in his lean, calloused one to seal the agreement. His asperous teeth were set on full display for her as they split his face in a crazed smile that barely contained the malicious intent beneath it.

❝ -- Deal. Hope ya don’t live to regret it. Kekekeke~ ❞

He snickered openly, delivering a tight squeeze to her slender hand before drawing back to fish a credit card out of his unkempt school jacket. He tossed the sleek, black strip of plastic down onto the table without even a shred of hesitation, where a hesitant and mildly horrified looking waiter carefully slipped a hand between the literal towers of dirty dishes left by the piggish detective and rushed off to run the check. Meanwhile, Hiruma seemed to waste absolutely no time in taking advantage of their newfound “partnership,” leaning over the edge of the table to snatch up Cerberus’ leash.

❝ -- First order of fucking business ; I’ve got some propaganda for you to promote during yer next TV interview. So let’s go somewhere to go over it. ❞

#katsuragi-yako

katsuragi-yako:

❝She recently blew up our kitchen trying to bake a cake, and that’s not even an exaggeration.❞

Yako’s voice was deadpan, though even as those words fell out of her mouth to respond, there was a distinct, contemplative expression spreading across her face and present in her eyes. While she said one thing, her mind was focused entirely on another. Had she really heard him right? He said he was the “Commander from Hell”?

Everything about Hiruma Youichi she’d observed so far seemed to align with some sort of demonic motif. From the way that she assumed his name might be written, to the sadistic and calculating personality, and even his appearance–it all melded together perfectly with the image of a demon. And the fact that he’d just gone so far as to refer to himself in such a way only added to it. She knew a demon herself, and she couldn’t deny that he certainly acted very similar. But still, despite all of that, it was ridiculous to assume that he was one, wasn’t it? He could very easily just be trying to go for that exact image to come off as even more intimidating.

And yet, still Yako couldn’t help but wonder.

❝–And that’s… quite a title,❞ she continued after a pause, taking a bite of another dessert. ❝Though, I guess it is pretty fitting.❞

Fitting, she’d said -- the greater population of Japan would undoubtedly agree with her. The metaphorical demon could only laugh -- because that’s all he was. Metaphorical, in the demonic sense at least. Hiruma had learned very early on that the best way to get people to do what you wanted was to make them fear you -- so he’d carefully constructed every sharp corner of himself, inside and out, to be as intimidating as possible ; from the foul-mouthed way he spoke to the firearms he toted around, down to even the more minute details like the color and style of his hair. As long as he could make as many people as possible believe that he truly was a demon, then he really would be one -- as unstoppable as one, anyway.

❝ – ya don’t have ta keep flattering me! If ye’re satisfied, then just agree we’ve got a fuckin’ deal, Detective Fatass! ❞

#katsuragi-yako

katsuragi-yako:

For a few moments, she almost thought that Hiruma hadn’t heard her, and her lips parted to repeat what she’d said. However, the look in his eyes stopped her, keeping the words lodged in her throat. He’d heard her–she could see it as plain as day on his face. But he wasn’t replying for whatever reason. Tilting her head, the girl studied him a little, bringing her hands up out of her lap to fiddle aimlessly with the sleeves of her uniform sweater while she did so. The appearance of the other student hadn’t even registered to her as anything other than normal background activity until out his overly nervous demeanor caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.

Focusing on awaiting an answer was shelved for the time being as Yako watched the stranger begin to approach their table with an envelope in his hand. From head to toe, he seemed on edge, anxious, and fearful. A confused and somewhat worried expression crossed her face; what could have possibly be making him so upset? And why was he coming this way?

All was made crystal clear when he stopped in front of the blond sitting across from her and held out the manila envelope. Her eyebrows shot up in realization. He was a member of Hiruma’s so-called “slave network”. No wonder he was so frightened–anyone who wasn’t practically desensitized to such things ( like she was ) probably found the concept of being blackmailed by someone like him absolutely terrifying. Yet try though she might, the young detective wasn’t even able to make eye contact with the boy before he ran out of the restaurant faster than a frightened gazelle.

The rustling of paper as he opened the envelope snapped her back to reality, and she begin to wonder whether he would ever answer the question she’d posed, or if he would simply ignore her in favor of reading whatever information he’d just been delivered. Picking up her fork, she took a bite of one of the many desserts that had arrived at their table while the boy had been making his way over. Though, before she could even finished swallowing, he began to read. And Yako practically choked on her food.

❝It looked just like an onigiri! And it would have taken anyone a few bites to realize it wasn’t if they’d been forced to eat my mother’s cooking too!❞ she snapped back defensively.

He’d managed to have someone collect that much information on her ( and even more, from the sound of it ) in such a short period of time? Sure, things like her height, weight, parents, and birthday were fairly standard and could be found easily. But the fact that she was banned from that many restaurants? The story about the soap? That wasn’t common knowledge at all. She had never exactly doubted him, but he’d certainly put it into perspective for her–he was good. Really good.

❝–I am impressed, though. A lot of that isn’t exactly common knowledge. And you were able to get it so quickly. That’s… amazing, Hiruma-san.❞

The sheer aghast in her expression, the total horror and abject outrage -- it was all metaphorical music to his pointed ears. His hideous grin didn’t diminish ; if anything her obvious embarrassment had only served to further his perverse joy, looking entirely too smug as he relished her flushed expression as well as her reluctant compliments. Folding his hands comfortably behind his spiky blond head, he leaned back further in his seat, his weight teetering precariously on the hind legs of his chair, the only anchor keeping him from an unsavory fate against the floor the heels of his combat boots hooked against the lip of the table.

❝ – kekekeke !! Yer old lady was no Julia Child, I take it! -- of fucking course it’s impressive. I’m the Commander from Hell. ❞

#katsuragi-yako #[ short reply is short ]

katsuragi-yako:

The expression on her face didn’t change much, continuing to broadcast her exasperation even as he leaned back on his chair and laughed loud enough for all of those around them to hear. Once more, the pair were sent strange glances from both other patrons and the wait staff, but the second time around she had a much easier time shrugging them off and ignoring them. About six plates into her meal, she’d already accepted the fact that she likely wouldn’t be able to show her face in the restaurant for quite a while, based solely on the amount she’d ordered. It wasn’t as though he was making anything all that much worse.

Which was why before even responding to him, she sighed and ordered a few desserts from a passing waitress. Might as well indulge to her limits since that was what Hiruma had wanted to see, anyway.

❝Well, thanks for that, I guess,❞ Yako said, voice tinted with sarcasm as she turning back to him. ❝But, while being blackmailed wasn’t really how I expected this day to end up, I’ll admit I am interested in how you said this could be beneficial to both of us. I work extremely specific cases, so any information my assistant and I can get our hands on to find us work is always needed.❞

In all actuality, the pictures he’d snapped didn’t worry her all that much, so long as he hadn’t caught her from an indecent angle. But if he could be as invaluable a resource as he made himself out to be, she didn’t exactly mind the idea of being “useful” to him as well. Provided whatever he’d end up wanting from her wasn’t anything too terribly outrageous.

The quarterback’s laughter quelled long enough to hear her reply, and the question of his own usefulness didn’t serve to lessen the smugness in his expression by even an ounce. On the floor beneath the table where he’d propped his feet up in delinquent fashion, Cerberus had begun to snore soundly, full and complacent from the scraps the devil had been steadily passing him. So, she wanted to see just how effective he could be in the realm of brokering information, did she? His shark-like teeth split the difference between his cheeks in a self-satisfied smile, and one pointed ear flicked in reply as he heard the bell attached to the frame just above the cafe’s front door sound. Fortunately, one of his maverick mind’s key specialties was making predictions regarding his opponent’s next move and planning counter-plays for each foreseeable scenario.

He didn’t have to look to know precisely who it was : they were right on time. A painfully average looking high school student stumbled through the entryway with a manila envelope clutched between his trembling hands. His brown eyes snapped this way and that, scanning the eatery in a petrified search for something undisclosed. When his finicky gaze landed squarely on the spiky blond hair of the self-proclaimed devil, his gaze grew wide with a mix of horrified recognition and absolute terror. Throwing his gaze to the ground, he shuffled over towards their table and without acknowledging the young detective in any way ( it almost appeared as though he was going to great lengths not to look at her in a plea for help ) threw up the full length of his arms and held the envelope out to the demon, never lifting his bowed head. Without so much as passing a glance over his shoulder, the lanky quarterback unfolded one of his hands from their finger-laced cradle behind his head and extended it backwards -- where the unnamed student quickly laid the envelope into his waiting palm before turning tail and scrambling out of the restaurant with a second, distinct “ding” from the entry bell, nearly bowling over a waitress on the way out.

Never once did the devil’s steely green gaze deviate from Yako’s own wide oak one -- not even as he flipped open the file over his long thighs with unmistakable glee. Only then did he displace his stare to briefly scan the pages in his lap, taking an obvious and sadistic joy in reading them aloud to her.

❝ – Katsuragi, Yako. Age: Sixteen. Weight: 43kg. Height: 153cm. Birthdate: March 10th. Daughter of Katsuragi Haruka and Seiichi. Banned from exactly nine restaurants in the Tokyo district for her insatiable appetite. Ate half a bar of soap in primary school before she realized it wasn’t an onigiri.

-- my resources seem valid enough for ya? Or shall I continue? ~ ❞

#katsuragi-yako #[ he sent his slave network for info on her ]#[ like ten minutes after meeting her ]#[ buckle up brah ]

katsuragi-yako:

The fact that she’d been correct didn’t exactly surprise her at all, just like predicted. It fit perfectly with the very little that she knew about him so far. Leaning forward to get a better look at the cover he was flaunting, Yako barely reacted to his insult that was framed as praise. The only indication that she’d even noticed his words being a half of an eye roll before she focused all of her attention on the book in front of her. Small, black, and rather plain looking had it not been for the writing etched across it–”Devil’s Handbook”.

Somewhere deep inside of herself, she wanted to smirk just a little at the “title”. It almost sounded like something right out of Hell. But she was given very little time to think about it before Hiruma’s explanation drew both of her eyes up and across the table to look back to him.

And honestly? His whole spiel left her speechless. Not because it shocked her or scared her in any way, of course. She’d been working her job long enough to understand exactly how “information brokers” like him worked. He was obviously very experienced and knew precisely how to get what he wanted. But that wasn’t what kept words trapped in her throat, made her lips purse, or one of her brows cock up at him. It was how he spoke about the entire thing–the words he chose. Especially one phrase in particular: “slave network”.

Once again, he was reminding her far too much of somebody she knew.

❝Are you a d–?❞ Yako started to mutter after a pause, but quickly caught herself. ❝I mean, ah… You certainly know what you’re doing, that’s for sure. So I take it I’m now a part of this ‘network’, too?❞

The exasperated look on her face was one he was all too familiar with ; It was the same look that anyone who’d only just realized they’d effectively been pinned under the devil’s bony thumb always sported -- or his manager's expression on the occasion that he ...well, did pretty much anything that involved blackmail, coercion or the manic discharge of firearms ( virtually everything he did included at least one of those variables ). Though admittedly she seemed to be taking the epiphany with much more of a dejected resignation than most -- almost as though she’d become begrudgingly used to such situations. Perhaps it wasn’t the first time she’d been blackmailed, he reasoned, given that she was a detective.

His response was an entirely too smug and self-satisfied look, appearing to take a sort of demented glee in her misery as he stuffed the book back into his bag once more and leaned back in his chair -- too far back, so that it teetered recklessly on its hind legs. His laugh was high-pitched and ruthless, and as sharp as his teeth.

❝ – yahtzee! Ke ke ke ke ! ~ But I’m not completely heartless -- I’ll keep the embarrassing photos of you out of the tabloids, Miss Detective ; as long as you’re useful to me, anyway! ❞

#katsuragi-yako

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