◣ ✿ ◥ Kyouka, of course, had to question what he knew about her life if he was accusing her of being raised to kill; he knew of her parents being killed by Demon Snow, but not the true circumstance of the incident. He didn’t know that her mother, the original possessor of the ability, used it to commit murder-suicide to protect the girl before transferring the ability so that she could use it to protect herself. That even though her parents committed crime, they raised her in a kind and loving home and never taught her to hurt a fly.
Three years didn’t come close to the time she’d spent living with her mother and father. Thinking she’d killed them for three years did damage her, however, making her easily susceptible to the teachings of the mafia. How different would her life have been if someone from the Agency found her instead? Would she have no blood on her hands? No sins to atone for?
Ah, such trains of thought were pointless. If the Agency picked her up, she may never have known the truth behind her parents’ deaths (and lives, for that matter). She could spend years thinking of every possible path her life could’ve taken, and it would never help her deal with anything.
His coughing fit pulled her attention away from thought. She noted that his condition seemed to be getting worse the longer they stood out in the rain. Perhaps she could defeat him by just stubbornly keeping them out there–the hypothermia might be worth it. But after hearing stories of how the Agency’s resident doctor treated her patients, she wasn’t too keen on needing treatment. Maybe a display of mercy would throw him off.
With that in mind, she raised a shaking hand and pointed a few blocks away, towards one of the few restaurants keeping its business open despite the weather. “Over there. Inside. Hot tea. We can talk there.” If she remembered correctly, the owner of that restaurant was a kind, generous man who would likely offer them warm blankets and dry clothing from his apartment located above his business. She enjoyed going there.
Stepping forward, she used her outstretched hand to grab his wrist before all but dragging him in that direction (as though fearless in the act, but she was, in fact, afraid that he’d recoil and lash out at her). There was some saying about being the bigger person, but even if only to spite him, she’d buy him a cup of tea.
For the most part, she just wanted out of the rain, and getting home without freezing to death was proving more difficult than expected.
Her lack of response was taken as an admittance, one that he was fully prepared to sink his fangs into. Of course he was right; he, who had spent his entire existence saturated in only rot and desperation, knew of the darkness better than she ever would. He may wield it as a weapon, but that did not mean he was immune to its ability to coil and strangle and suffocate. Once it tainted it did not relinquish its hold.
To another, perhaps there would be something worth gleaning, her silence a morsel to momentarily quell this insatiable void. (To defy him was a mistake, to betray him was to gain an enemy.) But he receives no such pleasure. The apparent concession drew nothing forth because he sought nothing from it. Akutagawa merely found it a waste that the child had succumbed so deeply to an illusion before she could fulfill her potential as an assassin, especially when he had given her a rare instance of benevolence.
Through the curtain of rain he gazed upon her, awaiting any further retaliation she might have to offer. Would she refute him again? Or finally come to terms with her bleak reality? He was sure he had quashed what meager hope she held onto, for there was nothing she could do to continue her innocent facade. What a tasteless victory.
...Or so he had thought. The grip around his wrist was realized a moment too late, Akutagawa already being pulled along when a glare twisted his features. “What do you think you’re doing?” The warning was more feeble than he would have liked. Had conditions not been unfavorable, he would have wrenched his arm away the moment she came near.
Unfortunately, the chill that permeated his bones prevented any sudden action, a temporary paralysis furthered by the fact that he could not fully feel his limbs. He could use Rashomon to compensate - to sever her wrist, pierce her organs if necessary - but he was unsure of what she intended to do. The short string of words was cryptic. Was this an attempt at pity? He assumed she had no interest in continuing this conversation; he certainly did not.
‘There’s nothing more to talk about. You’ve obviously lost your common sense.’ The words failed to depart from frozen lips, breathing already an arduous task as they traversed through the rain. The shiver extending through his frame finally ceased when he was dragged into the confines of the tea shop. As much as he loathed to admit, the warmth was welcome, as was the familiar scent of tea. Still, he did not forget their position, his arm torn from her grasp as soon as her grip lessened. “I don’t know what you’re planning,” Eyes narrowed at her once more. “If you’ve something to say, then tell me now. If not, then I’ll take my leave.” Though the statement was arguably less effective when followed by a series of wracking coughs.
it’s an unfortunate truth that she’s come across him once again after their previous scuffle, && while she’d walk on by && act as if his existence was nothing but an annoying BUG…. his stare was oddly unsettling. a dead, stone cold gaze that held nothing warm or comforting to it ( hers isn’t much different, but at the very least she holds the fire of anger. )
[ then you aren’t very good at it. ] childish banter is pushed further with the addition of her tongue being stuck out for a passing moment.
[ first you attack me. then you can barely read. && now this. didn’t anyone take you to dog training courses? ] should she be pushing her luck? BY NO MEANS. does she know this? OF COURSE. but that won’t stop her from writing without a second thought, honestly spilled onto paper && shown to him, a well known danger in her mind. her bravery ( or stupidity ) is almost admirable. almost. ( really – can you BLAME her for thinking he enjoys it? look at him! if you ask her, he’s an entire morgue cramped into one body && given life. )
The title of ‘dog’ is one he wears without pride nor spite, for it is merely a descriptor for his existence. To bear a leash was not a symbol of shame, not when it gave him a purpose. Call him a mutt to your heart’s content, he won’t take offense to it - he’ll simply cut out the tongue you’ve so generously presented to him.
“I’ve been trained plenty in what is necessary.” His brow furrows, a minute emphasis placed on the last word. The art of slaughter has been etched into his bones, the ways to kill with this ability infinite. If it weren’t for his training course, he would not have scraped through each hellish day in the mafia. As for other skills, there was no need. He is a weapon, not a human. To teach him things like the written word would have been lacking in purpose. Not that he expected her to understand something so obvious. “And what of you? I see you’ve not been versed in manners.” Had she not been taught to not look a guard dog in the maw?
❛ Listen, just shut up and follow behind me. As for the rest… I’ll protect you. ❜
◣ ♔ ◥ LiEat sentence starters ❝ accepting. ❞
◣ ✿ ◥ –what? It had been an odd enough day without hearing those words leaving her former mentor’s mouth, and the girl didn’t know how to feel about it. First, she’d been giving a simple errand (just delivering paperwork!). A normal start to any day, yet when she got there, not only did she come across Akutagawa but an ambush as well, apparently. The attackers were far more than common thugs too, as though the day could get any worse. Holed up in a room with him was far from ideal.
While the words were shocking, and as reluctant as she was to say anything positive about the man, having an ally and an enemy each turned out better than having two enemies. Still, she didn’t want to take any bets as to how long this makeshift partnership–if it could even be called such a thing–would last because she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.
But she wanted to get out alive. Preferably without killing the enemies, which she knew Akutagawa would do. And what was that nonsense about protecting her? It sounded like some attempt at kindness, although it was probably a more subtle attempt at brainwashing than what he’d previously employed. She doubted he considered anything aside from how he could use her ability to–
Not the problem at the moment. She needed to figure a way out of there. From what she could tell, they were surrounded; any attempt to leave the building would put them in a firing zone. And could she really trust that Akutagawa would shield her from that? Possibly. At least, the words seemed honest enough, but then again, it was Akutagawa (not that she ever knew him to lie).
Kyouka glanced around the room. The support beams. This building had once been an office space, but after being condemned, it became run down and abandoned–not where she’d been told to go for her job, but where she ended up after the ambush. If she remembered correctly, it was scheduled for demolition anyway. She had a plan.
“Akutagawa,” she spoke up after a couple minutes, “If we knock down the support beams, the building will collapse. Then we can go up and escape onto the roof of a nearby building.” Their enemy would have falling concrete to deal with, and their abilities allowed for such a plan to be completed rather easily. Plus, it gave the men a fair chance at getting out alive rather than her allowing Akutagawa to slaughter them all getting to safety. “We should take at least one of them alive for interrogation.”
With luck, he understood why. It worked out better for her in the end as well, since she wouldn’t have to rely on the man for protection.
haa? for someone who takes so long to read a simple note ( horrible writing aside..! ) he’s sure got SOME NERVE saying something like that, after making her wait as long as he did. the obvious hypocrisy is ignored, however, as she’s fully aware of the times she’d PURPOSELY leave people waiting for a reply – if she gave one, that is. for her, it’s a decision. for him, it’s lack of education, && it’s quite annoying. someone teach this damned dog something!
[ for your information, i wash this daily. if you’re smelling something, it’s probably yourself. ]
thanks to her family, that is had she not been rescues that day, along with the angel, she’d be much worse off, she’s sure. perhaps even more similar to the dog before her, && she cannot help but thank whatever gods there are for that being far from the case. as detestable as she find him to be, it’s a wonder how && why she’s talking to him so casually. motioning to his own attire, brow raised ( it’s a curious thing, she’ll admit - his ability ), expecting him to understand the relation between her action && her words.
A rare breath between missions, an even rarer encounter with an elusive stray; perhaps what they say is true - once you’ve bared your fangs to another, you seem to come across them more often. At this moment, he has no reason to incite conflict with her, but what sort of childish exchange is this?
A sigh is drawn from his lips, a sign of his exasperation. “...I bathe regularly, you know. My garments are cleaned often, too.” Well, as often as he was able to. Grueling missions without a moment of reprieve left him a scattered schedule at best, which meant washing the blood off of Rashomon could at times be considered an indulgence rather than a necessity. Blood clogged the fibers of his weapon, the scent of rust permeating fabric when it penetrated flesh. It is not a pleasant condition to bear - how pretentious of her to presume he enjoys soaking in decay.
“Nothing to offer you? Are you sure? I’m pretty sure being in my presence is rewarding enough~ Still though it’s not like you’re incorrect in some manner.”
Begrudgingly the Detective had admitted such a thing, but it’s not like it bothered him too much. Other bits of the conversation had reached his ears, but with an uninterested air he brushed it off. He could be killed here, & now that was a fact, but there wasn’t much of a point.
“Well now technically it is a boon to be aiding me. You scared him off, so it’s only natural that you would be the one to find him~”
Such regular, & tasteless words weren’t meaningful, but it was out there now. Ranpo had no care at all if his life was in imitate danger or not. It was what it was, & he had a case that needed to be solved. The Puppy though was a beneficial asset for this. There was no point in calling oneself a Great Detective if he wasn’t willing to throw his life into danger ever. Just the mere thought of that was pathetic, & overly unneeded.
Not even bothering to heed the other’s warning, Ranpo had moved himself towards one of the less marred areas. It wasn’t overly difficult, but it was still somewhat a pain. Narrowed green eyes landed on Akutagawa a moment longer, but soon h had gotten bored. He had the range Ranpo needed, but gaining his favor for a set amount of time was something else.
“Anyways we should be looking for the runaway~”
Without a care he offered a grin, & shamelessly spoke such words. A step here, & another there, & soon he was looking towards a direction. Pointing half-ass now he spared a glance over towards the other.
“He went that way, I trust you can just stop him without it leading to murder~”
Renowned detective or not, Akutagawa did not require anything from other. There was no need to elucidate any of his desires; he knew well what he wanted and where to find it. The only thing preventing him from seizing it was a muzzle placed upon him by his superior. It was an inconvenience, but he would claim what was rightfully his in due time.
Yet said muzzle was the reason he could not leave the detective to his fruitless investigation. Meticulous was how he’d been taught in the mafia; the possibility of indirectly partaking in an offense to the Armed Detective Agency was one of the repercussions considered. While he usually would not care what damage came to the agency, violating this agreement was a risk even he did not want to indulge. Between incurring Ougai’s wrath and possibly causing another conflict with the agency, it would be in his best interest to refrain from any rash action.
...How irksome. If he was somehow implicated in this fool’s death, then it would lead to a number of inconveniences. His only option was to comply with the demand. “Hn. Fine, but don’t take this as a sign of good will; helping your agency is the last thing I aim to do.” A pause, breath wheezed into a frail palm. “And don’t get in my way. I can’t promise you won’t be impaled.” His head turned towards the direction where the supposed runaway had escaped. Not many avoided being caught in charred jowls amid a tempest of slaughter; to granted such a mercy, this target must have been either skilled or extremely lucky. Rashomon trembled, fibers anticipating prey to ensnare. “Just who is the bastard I’m capturing?”
Kunikida decided at some point that as a growing child, Kyouka needed to eat better to keep up her health. While she agreed (so long as sweets were not taken out of her diet), the particular food he got her--well, she didn't like it. She was walking around with the box of food in her hands when she saw a certain someone: a certain someone who wasn't picky with food and had given her sweets not long ago. As such, she approached him and held out the food for him to take. "Here. Now we're even."
Just because he wasn’t terribly picky with his food did not mean he appreciated the curious container being thrust out at him as if he was some sort of unwanted food repository.
Furthermore, Akutagawa could not ascertain what warranted this visit, the child usually steering clear of him if she could prevent their meeting. She thought he did not notice the how, at times, long sleeves would disappear around a corner with the soft pad of sandals as accompaniment. It was why the current situation was nothing short of baffling to him; the hound eyed the box with suspicion. (Was it poisoned? If so, he would be a fool to accept. But then again, it would make her a fool to offer.) Akutagawa could refuse her and leave, but the thought of food going to waste disturbed him worse than the thought of taking the box from her hands. He relented, spindly fingers curling around the container and lifting it from her hold.
Eyes reminiscent of the abyss scrutinized the contents of the box once the cover was lifted. A simple lunch, one that did not seem out of the ordinary, except…ah. Vegetables, most likely ones she was passing onto him in an act of childishness. Kyouka was not as outspoken as Elise, but the way she seemed determined to force her ‘good will’ onto him was certainly indicative of her age.
Out of sheer curiosity (and not the beast growling from the insides of his viscera), he picked up some of the food and brought it to his mouth. Flavor immediately burst on his otherwise caged tongue, his body thankful for the offering even if the hound himself is not. After a moment of contemplation, he gave his judgement. “It’s good.”
Whoever made this had put a calculated effort into it; the rice was not hardened, the vegetables still retaining their rich flavor, and the egg still retaining a fluffy quality. Overall, an acceptable meal having been prepared hours beforehand. Why anyone would want to rid their hands of it was unknown. In the midst of this thought, he turned his attention towards the child once more, his usual glower lessened by a quiet inquisitiveness. “You’d best have some, too.” Because really, there was no way he would be able to finish all of this on his own.
something i’m in the middle of writing reminded me i have a lot to say on the topic of akutagawa+food so hold the fuck on everynyan
okay so, first: if you haven’t read this, i strongly encourage you to do so because it’s my favorite piece of bsd borderline shitpost material and for once akutagawa isn’t making holes in atsushi/other characters and just doing his damn dayjob, this is an emo in his natural habitat
moving on though! i’d like to start by saying that akutagawa doesn’t fucking know how to take care of himself. i mean, theoretically he does, but he just doesn’t put in the effort to keep himself healthy despite his already weak constitution.
examples of this include: not taking relevant medication aside from popping painkillers, skipping meals for nearly days at a time due to forgetfulness, barely eating at all when he’s forced to get a meal, functioning on little to no sleep, you get the idea. his job is pretty demanding on him, even if he’s trained for years and held this position for a while, so a lot of the time he’s running on sheer will alone.
however! though he doesn’t regularly indulge in food, he has a very deep appreciation for it. like i said before, he doesn’t remember to eat regularly unless it somehow breaks through his intense focus and he also doesn’t think to put his paycheck towards extravagant meals because he’s lived in poverty for a good chunk of his life. but if he’s offered food he won’t turn it down because he hates being wasteful (he didn’t have the luxury to do so for most of his life, and finds it abhorrent when people just throw out something he would have killed to have). he believes meals are meant to be savored thoroughly and is probably prone to sitting and eating slowly if he has the chance
and if the chouchou x aliis special is anything to go by, akutagawa is actually?? lowkey a foodie??? because rich food was not a part of his life until recently, i feel he can be moved strongly by new tastes. he claims that food only serves as a sustenance to him, but it’s also a symbol of how far he’s come because no longer does he have to eat garbage and beg for scraps, he’s extremely grateful for it.
i don’t think he’s overtly picky, per se, but i think he does take his food pretty seriously, and if there’s anything offending his tastebuds he will not hesitate to say so. e.g. he doesn’t like broad beans or mandarins, and he makes a special point to call atsushi’s face a rotten broad bean like....chill...ok..... i can’t tell if this is because he had a personal brush with rotten broad beans or what but. jesus christ
also, in response to the important of question of can he cook: he can make a mean cup of tea, if that’s what you’re wondering. (the answer is actually no since he doesn’t regularly but he can follow directions if needed).
as for favorite foods.. it’s a little hard to tell since from his given likes (tea, figs; the red bean paste + beef bowl from the special) and dislikes (broad beans, mandarins), it’s difficult to nail exactly what it is he favors and doesn’t. like both figs and mandarins tend to be very sweet fruit, but perhaps he dislikes the latter due to its tangy quality that can be a bit harsh on his throat?
in general i don’t think he likes foods that are too heavy since eating too much at once (and his definition of ‘too much’ is significantly less than a normal person’s ‘too much’) can make him feel ill, and he doesn’t need that when he’s constantly running around on the job. in addition, i feel that gin and higuchi are the ones that ask him to eat the most, since they’re the ones that get to see him nearly run himself to the ground in his fervor
in conclusion i forgot what my main point was but please let akutagawa eat some food i want him to grow up big and strong,
either her handwriting is even WORSE than she thought, or the dog in black can barely read. how aggravating, if he turns out to be lacking in the educational department - she hadn’t thought he’d understand her signing, && for once was somewhat considerate…. only to discover how INCOMPETENT he is!
it might be better to swap the notebook back && forth, rather than rip the paper out each time, now that she thinks about it… [ i’d hope not, just you looking at me is enough to make me sick. ] shows him her slightly better handwriting, having not scribbled like before, until she thinks of more && snatches the notebook back to write again.
Truthfully, it’s a combination of both; he surmises the hastily drawn lines would be difficult for even someone with an extensive knowledge of language. For someone like him, who knows only a fraction of what others put to paper, it’s a near-impossible task. (You cannot seek strength that does not exist.) She’s written more than the previous note, and while it resembles proper words this time, he spends more than another would scrutinizing the page in her notebook. It makes for a noticeable gap in the conversation, one that only emphasizes his lack of skill.
He pauses before speaking; his gaze has been considered unsettling on more than one occasion, but never has the sentiment been proffered so bluntly. “It’s because I’m wondering when was the last time you’ve washed that grimy garment of yours.” If he were the owner - and this is mere rhetoric, because he would never be in possession of such childish clothing - he would find it to be unsuitable, both as a weapon and dress.
Amusement laced words as the Detective took another glance around. Each, & every lifeless body that laid about hadn’t caught much of his attention. Though it was unnerving, solemn, & cruel how they were dealt with he hadn’t the time. Earlier he had deducted that a person he was searching for should be around here, though after the carnage that took place that wasn’t likely anymore.
Use of his own ‘Ability’ could help, but why do that, when a Detective such as himself could obtain a ‘Dog?’ Even the mightiest of Detectives would laze about, as such Ranpo thought to partake in it. Flashing a grin a low chuckle of entertainment passed by faintly chapped lips.
“ You can oblige to something else though Doggy~ Maybe you can use that great sense of direction, & smell you’ve got, & chase someone I’m looking for.”
Hound of Hell or not Akutagawa was by all means useful even to someone such as himself. Of course Ranpo wouldn’t bother to admit such kind words in front of someone of the opposite faction. Boredom from earlier had long since ceased its existence now that he had come face to face with the Rabid Dog. Sacrilege! That’s what this was, but in the end as long as the case was solved, or more like the MIA individual was found, things would be smooth. It always was, & always would be.
“ So what do you say?~ Wanna be a Great Detective’s temporary demon dog? Though sorry~ No murdering can happen.”
Just what sort of proposal was the other offering? The mafia’s hound had no reason to aid him; between his position as one of the Detective Agency’s pests and his irritating demeanor, Akutagawa did not seek to associate with him in the slightest. The business of the Detective Agency was not any business of his. Unless it involved that person or his mangy pet, it was of no worth to him to pursue what pitiful incentive was being presented. To have the privilege of being his dog? It was quite insolent of him to speak as if he was doing Akutagawa a favor.
The words were clipped, phrases concise to convey the reality of the situation. “You’ve nothing to offer me. Do not act as if aiding you would be a boon, because it would be much more beneficial kill you right now. I suggest you leave my sight, lest you desire to join those on the ground.” His expression stayed fixed in a frown, making his vexation known.
For a moment he pondered what could have possessed the other to approach him so carelessly, to wear a light smile and laugh in the presence of death itself. Suspicion found its way into ghastly features; for what reason did the other foster such a needless confidence? He claimed to be a detective, yet he had willingly put himself into a position that was arguably the most dangerous of all. Then again, it seemed the Agency was not above hiring fools who leaked nothing but drivel.
◣ ✿ ◥ There were many things she wanted to say, but none of them could leave her tongue. She knew there was no point. That even if she didn’t want to hurt anyone, she still did. She knew that. Even if she didn’t want to kill anyone, she still did. She knew that. Even if it was the man before her who brainwashed her and commanded the deaths, she still did it. She knew that. Even if she sought to redeem herself for her actions, she still committed heinous crimes. She hurt and killed and for what? Because she was told to do it? Because she got to live as a result?
No matter how much she wanted to throw the blame back at Akutagawa, at the mafia, she couldn’t do it. It was her own selfishness that allowed her to commit those crimes. It was because she wanted to live that thirty-five people, human beings with lives of their own, died by her hand. No matter how much she wanted to move on from the past, the dark thoughts clung onto her.
She had a choice. She’d always had a choice. And even at the cost of others’ lives, she chose to live, much in the same way her mentor had. In that regard, they weren’t different from each other. The man she resented–and at the darkest of times, they’d survived in the same way. But unlike her desire for the light, she doubted he’d ever leave the darkness behind.
Despite knowing that it was useless to argue with him, she still wanted to point out that no one could figure out Dazai’s true nature; even Ranpo didn’t, as far as she knew, and if the greatest detective couldn’t grasp him, Akutagawa certainly couldn’t. Still, with Dazai being a touchy subject for the other, she decided to drop it. Truce or no truce, Kyouka didn’t want to push her former mentor too far.
Rain rolled from her clothes and skin, joining the puddles that formed in the street. Her hands itched to reach up to wring the water out of her hair, but the act would be fruitless: it’d only get soaked through once more in a matter of seconds. Not only that–she was tired.
“I know all of that.” So much for her determination to disagree. The aching coldness put a damper on her will, however. All she wanted was to go home, yet she couldn’t turn her back and walk away from this man. “But just because I can’t undo what I’ve done doesn’t mean I have to keep doing it. Even if the dead can’t come back, I can stop killing.”
Would he listen? Doubtful. And perhaps the interaction would only draw out longer if she kept retorting him, but in the end, she was still childish.
The downpour was harsh for someone of his constitution; bronchitis, pneumonia, and a myriad of other diseases he deemed unnecessary to commit to memory - he was susceptible to each one and it was a sign of weakness. (Disgraceful.) He would use this vessel to his liking and what happened as a result was of little concern. Akutagawa had dealt with far worse hardships than a heavy storm. It was not as if his viscera was lying upon the ground because of this child’s pitiful attempt to refute him. He would see this through to the end, a dog’s tenacity ingrained into his core; he intended to tear into the remnants of her hope with a vicious precision. A cough preluded his next string of interrogation, disregarding the ache constricting his lungs and what weak protest she had to offer.
“Can you?” A challenge issued by the hound, one that spared no time to lay bare every vice he saw in her. “Can you stop the way your fingers yearn for a weapon to hold, the way you see others as targets to be cut down when necessary? Can you stop your instinct to slaughter when it is your very being? You were raised to kill, Kyouka. You are a killer, and you will surely kill without hesitation again. It is your nature.” Indeed, children of the mafia were mere weapons, their value stemming only from their ability to destroy. He did not know what sort of life she led before carving up her parents, but he was certain of one thing: Ozaki had saved her from despair and gave her a reason to continue breathing. Perhaps she was like him and that person, he once thought.
But his conjecture had been wrong. The mafia was a sanctuary of darkness for children like her - those who were shunned, left to choke on the muck of the unforgiving nadir. It was not a merciful haven, but it was a way to survive, to derive meaning from a dismal reality. She should have been grateful to be spared from a meaningless existence of groveling in filth, never knowing the blessing of a purpose. Yet she would prefer to stand in the rain before him and futilely reject him rather than live beside him, beside the comrades she had been given in the cruelty of the world.
The words of a fool were contagious, promises of blithe days a poison. She desired a life where she would not have to reap another, but what could she possibly hope to accomplish when slaughter was all she knew? When she fell, Akutagawa would not be there to catch her; he would only be a vulture gazing upon her broken corpse.
The rain had thoroughly soaked his garment, the chill now seeping into his skin and bones. The tightness in his chest had gotten worse; each breath failed to grant him reprieve, instead coiling around his lungs in an act of betrayal. His condition made him familiar with this type of pain, but it had been a while since he experienced it to this extent. It’s an inconvenience, how the coughs that regularly plagued him were now akin to daggers thrust between his ribs. A labored wheeze left him when the cough subsided, his frame lurching forward for a moment before settling upright once more. It would be best to leave now and save himself the grief of both this child’s ignorance and the weather, but he would not rest until the she bent to his truth.
...He can barely read the scrap of paper he’s handed, eyes diverting their attention from the other to study the hastily scrawled words that are offered. It takes him a few minutes, symbols slowly bending and twisting into words. When he finally deciphers it, a slight frown digs into pallid features; was this really that important it needed to be conveyed through text? “It wasn’t on purpose; it’s not as if I enjoy staring at you.” For who would derive amusement from staring at an unruly stray cat?
The smell of blood lingered in the air, and even Ranpo couldn’t help but cringe. Messy this was just plain out messy. Still it wasn’t like Ranpo hadn’t expected anything less from the Port Mafia’s Silent Rabid Dog. Carnage really was something that he was more then used to in this profession. A shake of his head, and glimpses around the area cautiously green eyes narrowed. It was disgustingly too silent even for a Great Detective such as himself.
“Oi! You still around here Mafia Puppy? Didn’t your Master ever teach you to clean up your messes? Tsk, tsk such a bad Dog~”
Blunt, & keeping it to the point Ranpo waited. Ranpo couldn’t help but pick at such a foolish individual. Danger was something he was expecting at some point, & after his words left him, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he was attacked now, or later on.
And just when he thought he was finished with work. Void-like eyes narrowed at the other, the string of frivolous comments making irritation blossom in otherwise muted thoughts. There were several points incorrect among the plethora of statements. Firstly, his ‘master’ had orchestrated this mess; Ougai’s order was to kill those who were defiant in the face of the underworld’s strongest organization. It was not his concern if they left their bodies lying about.
Akutagwa did not take well to the belittlement, meaningless words from one that he could easily tear through with a simple motion. The scent of death did not deter him, fresh corpses resting at his feet as he responded to the other’s mockery. “Have you come to make a grave here, too? This dog would be more than happy to oblige you, if that is the case.” If he wanted a dog, Akutagawa would give him one - a hound from the depths of hell, a omnivorous beast with an insatiable hunger for flesh. It’d be best to watch your tongue.
She expected that she would be all by herself this afternoon while her brother went off to somewhere she couldn’t bother to care. Whether it is his so-called date with Aoi, or investigating whatever matters she didn’t understand, she knew that it’d be such a hassle to know about it. It’s suspicious. Now that she thought about it, she wanted to find out where he is.
But later after she finishes her lunch. She couldn’t do her job properly with empty stomach, right?
Now she has a company, a seemingly unfriendly male who also wanted to have a lunch. Who cares, though. Asuha only glanced at him once while chewing on her lunch before continued to eat again, just to recognize her seatmate.
He’s also quite grumpy, she noted. He protested, while Asuha honestly never intended to do so. She’s just apathetic at the best, not bothering to care about the other much to stain his fancy clothes. But since she did, although unintentionally, she should apologize to make him less angry, right? So she could make less trouble in this afternoon.
“Well, sorry ‘bout that. It’s not on purpose.” She answered in-between drinking. “It’s just a small stain. Just wash it by water and it’ll be clean again like nothing happened.”
"And it is not as if I purposely chose to have my meal with a flippant brat, but it seems water cannot cure that, now can it?" The logical course of action was to pay it no mind, for innocents were of no concern to him. Children were worth even less consideration, yet agitation had surfaced in the dark waters of his mind. His temper was whittling away with each passing moment and while he was thoroughly trained (obedience mercilessly broken into flesh and bone), more often than once does he contemplate on how easy it would be to turn this boisterous venue into a deathly silence. It would only take a simple application of force, to pierce and sever and slaughter.
But it would be of no benefit to pursue this, so Akutagawa settled for a scowl that would convey just how much displeasure he was experiencing. Meals were to be enjoyed respectfully, not like another form of savagery. Even he knew that much. His tongue clicked. A hand stiffly reached for a clean napkin, dipping into his glass of of water before padding it along the stain. A glance down reminded him his own meal was largely untouched; it was surely getting cold by now, but how could he eat when the very atmosphere made his insides lurch? He would be better off skipping yet another meal, ignoring the pangs of hunger that assailed him once more.
won’t, can’t – what’s the difference with her, honestly? the line is THIN && easily overlooked, stepped on with a lack of care only she could possibly possess. a frightening, confusing && bias concern given only to those she handpicks – her own being? well. it’s somewhere, that’s for sure. ( do not mistake her for selfless, nor charitable, it could become your doom. one so difficult to understand, at best. )
brow quirks as the introduction is given, a polite && almost gentleman like action, giving her eyes reason to stare in bewilderment. the name was one she doesn’t remember, perhaps she’s heard it in passing ( many things find their way to her ears, but whether they’re given a home in her memory or not is debatable ), a mumble of recognition. however, the organization… she knows well. it’s one she && those of kin steer from, to keep from disturbing- for waking the lion without a tamer is a wish to summon death itself.
it’s when something begins to move behind him that she lets herself act.
a split second decision, to continue with her plan or not – activate her ability, slip away in the cover of darkness. ( a GAMBLE, this all was. never has luck been on her side, she’s known from the start. ) with few options, fully expecting him to keep his promised offer of an early grave.. she’ll need to be fast – && that she can be! having not strayed far from the corner previously used as cover, her path of escape is evident. ( she can do it, she knows she can. ) a sphere of nothing, small && unsuspecting, forms before the woman, allowed to grow & engulf all around it.
for now, enough to render his sight of her useless, allowing her to dart to the side with little sound (she’s got what she needs, she’s done here–! ) it’s a hollow hope that she can shake off that which wraps itself around her wrist, fabric of her hoodie all that keeps the destructive tendril from touching her skin. she’d rather stay unaware of how it feels, thank you!
Within a moment, his vision is obscured, the previous scene of dilapidated buildings giving way to nothingness. Eyes widen, attempting to gather what remnants of his sight he can. It proves to be futile, as the child has been completely swallowed by the sudden darkness. But he is not daunted in the slightest; it is interesting, a challenge. A child with an ability. A shiver crawls up the dog's spine - he feels a bit enthralled at this turn of events. Ability users were difficult prey, children or not. They should not be taken lightly. Those who were fooled by the appearances of Q and Kyouka only had time to indulge in a single breath before they perished.
Despite the single tendril that grasps her wrist, he cannot see her, the fabric of his coat blindly reaching for the rest of her form. Though he possesses a clear disadvantage he does not intend to let her escape when she’s finally captured his attention. It only takes a fraction of a second to acknowledge this course of action is useless; thoughts halt, then reform as fibers of his coat follow suit. An adaptive ability like his cannot be thwarted by something as trivial as a lack of sight. (Not when he was the epitome of darkness, a creature raised in the absence of light.)
RASHOMON SPIDER THREAD - once he had heard of a story of a sinner who was given one chance at redemption, only to cast it away with a selfish folly. This is a web composed of the despair of those who refused to obey the mercy they were given, but he would be the one to pass judgment on her soul, not Buddha. While the tendril that holds her tightens and pulls her close, the rest of his coat forms a net to capture her with. It is launched into her general direction, a calculated risk with a low chance of failure, given the circumstances.
"It’s pointless to run. Accept your fate.” Whether he truly intends to kill her or not is still unknown; children with abilities could easily be snatched up by rival factions and used against the mafia, and if she proved to be such an agent he would kill her without remorse. If she is not... perhaps she could become a useful pawn.
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