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@nikuichi
human hatred. monochrome shades, yearning for an end but why does it feel like the lamb would fall in love with the wolf just when it is finally ripped apart?
indie original characters. created by kiri/babel, for experimental purposes. low activity.
muses: yuuya , hachimenroppi other blog: @ammaranthine important!: I will not lie, I remember almost nothing about durarara!! So let's say.. roppi's bio is "loosely" based on the series.
You know what, Rei definitely deserves to be a main muse as well. Npc is not suitable for him. Ooh WHAT IF, in a bad end for Yuuya, Rei becomes the leader of Higanbana? ๐ More like he is pushed to become the leader? This is definitely doable unless they both die hahaha. For now, he is busy glaring at a certain collector in the bg.
headcanon.
I used to think using real life Yakuza family names would be better but I've decided to use made up names. In this blog's canon, the name of the strongest Yakuza family throughout Japan is:
Katsuragi-gumi: In this blog's canon, the name of the strongest Yakuza family throughout Japan. It basically mirrors the real life largest Japanese Yakuza group that has this massive syndicate that maintains an overwhelming dominance in Osaka's illicit and commercial economies, albeit headquartered in a neighboring city. However, over time Katsuragi-gumi began losing power in Osaka to Yamabishi-gumi. Yamabishi-gumi and Higanbana-gumi: Completely made up family by me, which also exists in my other blog's canon. Yamabishi-gumi is primarily based in Osaka but in following years (during the time when yours truly begins to lose his health i mean) it is going to have problems brewing in itself. A sub-branch group called Higanbana-gumi may emerge and may continue growing. Asakusa-kai: This too is a made up name, mirroring the second largest syndicate in Japan, which functions as a massive confederation of smaller Tokyo-based gangs and controls nightlife districts. So, in my canon: In districts like Shinjuku/Kabukicho (where my character mainly dwells) and Ginza, Asakusa-kai is more prominent when it comes to controlling nightlife in these districts.
Some other possible and smaller made up families can be: Takamatsu-gumi, Naniwa-gumi, Yanagi-kai, Shinwa-kai. They can be npc families/simple agents to keep the plot and threads going.
In Durarara canon: Awakusu-kai, a subsidiary of the Medei, are a moderately influential organization primarily based in Ikebukuro. So they also exist in my canon.
Though the collector's eyes are nothing out of the ordinary, he sees it clearly: at the other edge of the cliff, stands this one. Though their dance is not singular, they are certainly there. โ Is that so? I see, so he is your brother. โ Underneath the still surface, are waves of momentary tension; that sudden motion of the other has certainly ignited a signal through his muscles. It sizzles still, in fact. Amplifies the raw interest growing within, and so, he can't help but lean in towards the brothers. Through the thick mist in those auburn shades, a predatory gleam does shine through. A silent message it is, an indicator that, though not twins, their natures are cut from the same hide. Marvelous, isn't it? Since for the first time in years, he finds himself wondering whether another soul has wandered close to the same edge. So his gaze lingers for a little while longer, takes in as much wisps of the auburn haze as it can, before meeting the decorated wall behind the other man. It is a guess, a gamble of a kind. Considering the angle that gloved hand landed on the rim, he assumes the non-existent one is standing there, a little to the right side. โ Seems like quite an interesting fellow, I'd really like to get to know him. โ It is then that the collector dips his head to the left, to meet and hold the troubled one's gaze one more time. โ And you as well. Would that be alright? โ Not that the answer trully matters, once he is interested, he is going to collect as much information as he can. Even though his lover is beckoning to him... Some habits die hard, as they say.
โ As for me, โ Begins he. When the bartender comes back from the back door, his hand on the counter slithers back and lifts to cue for another whiskey on the rock. โ I am just a simple collector, who is aiming to collect the last missing piece of his collection. โ Soft is the subtle laugh that spills from thin lips. โ Preferably before kicking the bucket, that is. โ This time one bandaged finger points at the slightly stained bandages around his neck and chest. Another laugh would have escaped him had the stinging pain not interrupt his mood. As such, the collector opts to taking the very first sip of the night. Not that alcohol would substitute for needed medicine, but at the very least his mind can find some sort of solace with this. Hopefully. Let the warm, burning sensation numb the creeping reality of death and everything she awakens inside.
โ Looking after your brother, eh? That's very noble of you. But I see no reason for him to hold his tongue on my account โธป I'll take you up on your offer then. โ
In the withered, flickering golden light, those amethyst eyes seem to be reflecting warmth. Yet, the more Yuuya gazes into them, the colder they seem to get; reminding him of the lightless heavens: his heavens. An edge is indeed there, but alas, it is not him that keeps falling down. But a dear, most beloved twin. All the time, constantly, the poor thing keeps calling his name as though the living could be of any help. Wouldn't you agree? Since death seems to be latched onto you, too. But you seem to be revel in it, accepting it fully โ even in that condition. How despicable, how envy-invoking. But perhaps, it is precisely because of that he finds his breath hitching when those frozen hues catch the sight of his most beloved, when that lulling timbre reaches deep down something inside; hidden beneath the depths that he is time and time again told to steer away. Keep looking, keep searching. Who knew such a plea was hidden within all along? Forgive the utter silence when those eyes respond to his quiet call. All in all, something about this "collector" seems to be so ...
ใ hแต waโฟtโ แตo kโฟow แตe ? สฐe iหข โdแต. ใ โธป โ ๐ช ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ. โ
Again comes an immediate reply to the idle susurrus of his brother the moment it lands on his right ear. Something stirs beneath the cage of his ribs; something akin to joy, shadowed by envy. No โ greed, beneath the cage of his ribs. Before he can name it, his hand is already moving; fingers finding the underside of the man's chin, gently coaxing his attention back to him. Keep looking. Reverberates the desire. It seems to be pushing the howling of his criminal instincts down for the time being. For whatever reason this collector seems to be seeking information from him can be dealt with later. For once, more than two decades, Yuuya wants to be truly selfish. For once, he wants the desire to be seen and understood to the core to be sated. Death, he cannot ever accept. But the consequences of his own selfishness? That, he can endure. Right, Yua?
โธป ๐๐๐ ๐บ๐๐พ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐พ๐ ๐๐๐?
โ Quite charming โ for a dying man, aren't you? โ A laugh that mirrors the other's spills from his lips as he leans in closer.
โธป ๐. ๐๐๐๐๐'๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐. / @nikuichi (yuuya)
When death comes to claim her lover, what does he do? He, the collector, reckons the answer will be revealed to them both soon enough, for indeed his time is coming to an end. Perhaps half a year, or perhaps a couple months from now; the bandages that have begun to adorn his body indicate that he is running out of time, that decay that has begun to gnaw at his flesh till there is nothing but bones, teeth and hair left. Such an unsightly sight it will be he knows, he smells. Nay amount of blood or perfume is enough to get rid of what has begun to undone. So then, why not numb his senses for one night, tonight? Never once had he sought the bitter taste of alcohol for simple desire, no. His each step was always planned, especially so, when it came to things that would fasten the process of his health's decline.
Yet, tonight he is at the edge of the cliff, so why not tiptoe the ledge? Why not tease a lover that yearns to pull him down?
โ Lover, huh.. โ A little bit of disdain, a little bit of acceptance; the scoff that escapes him hits the rim of his glass. Warm copper, the liquid inside quietly sways back an forth in rhythm with the lazy motion of his bandaged hand. Blood seems to be staining the tips of the fresh ivory cloth. Indeed, it is nay other's but his. What he wouldn't give for some painkillers right now, ah, if only the guy knew. Speaking of him, his amethyst hues do dart to his way in the dimly lit space. Even though there are only the two of them, just who is this guy talking to?
โ Your friend seems to be quite a chatty one. โ Calm as the stillness of a black lake, he lets his voice join the other's. Though the friend in question is non-existent, out of newly-lit raw curiosity, the collector finds himself to be utterly interested in their story. As such, he is quick to set down his untouched drink on the bar and gently slide it towards the ... troubled one. โ Won't your friend have a drink? โ With his chin resting on the back of his hand, he smiles at the guy. โ It's on me. โ
Do you know? In the poor corners of Osaka, there is a tale that says the dead come back to life in the dead of the night, just to let their tale to be known. But Yuuya would not know, for his brother has never left, for those brilliant auburn eyes still carry light within them โ albeit, it has become shadowed over time by a silent, ever pulsing rage and condemnation. And tonight, those particular feelings seem to have become heavier, more venomous.
ใ y อฆ อง s อญ อฆ l อค อฅ อญ f อฌ อฆ อซ อซ อค ใ โธป ๐ช ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ, ๐ช ๐ข๐ฎ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ณ๐ณ๐บ.
The same broken tune, so loathsome, has become a ballad that drowns him every night. Its claws around his neck are just too unforgiving, too smothering that sometimes nothing can save him from their ferocious grip. Sometimes, the marks that it leaves on his throat are too hard to hide behind a collar. They burn hotter than the amber liquid wetting inside his mouth. โ Drink up, it's your favorite, isn't it? I had preprepared it specifically for you. โ As if to soothe the sensation, and certainly to turn that frown upside down on his twin's lips, he reaches over towards his brother's side; tapping on the rim of the tall glass of cocktail. โ C'mon, stop sulking. I don't want to fight tonight. โ What kind of expression is Yua making right now? Yuuya can't tell. Unlike his short ivory strands, Yua's dark ones are long enough to cover his face perfectly under the dim light. But through muted tones, his ears do pick up irritation and disdain, along with a memory that he can't recall fully. โ Was that how it went? I don't remember that being my fault. You should give me the details. โ And so goes tonight's waltz.
Until an outer voice causes a ripple. An unwanted disturbance. His body involuntarily stops in its tracks.
But because Yua's attention shifts, so does his. Silence befalls on both brothers. Something about this man is .. making his skin tinge. He wonders why. โ He is my brother, actually. โ
ใ w อช อฆ อฅs อช อค ? ใ โธป โ And who might you be? โ
The question that hits the shell of his ear is immediately directed towards the other man. His gloved hand reaches for the offer faster than Yua's, his palm covers the rim. Pure interest peeks through the mist in his own auburn hues, the yakuza within him seems to be drawn to the other. Kin. Almost, he'd say. The breathing stillness in those amethyst eyes.. no, not just in them but thoroughly around the stranger's frame; it reminds him of a stalking beast. Of the kind that hunts for the sake of it. Now, Rei would have loved to look into this one, no? But.. Ah, why is he late?
โ My brother had enough drinks for tonight. But I will gladly accept your kind offer. Next round will be on me, I insist. โ
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย enduring things is what you do best. ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย gritting your teeth and bearing them.
Chapter 1.
โธป a promise.
Ever felt jealous of one's organs for having the honor of resting peacefully between your desire's ribs? The collector is, despite the gentleness of his claws at times, nay a lover but damn the raw, bone-cracking pulse howling against his own ribcage; it mimics that of a sweet-kisser so, so well each time the scarlet, loveliest reminiscent of blood shade, enters his vision through the lenses of his binoculars. The lamb does not know it yet but the two of them have had numerous trysts up until now: from the escapist nature in face of danger to the acts of toughness, hatred laced expressions to quirks of awkwardness, from the sun's first hellos to the moon's last goodbyes, for months now, they have been the sole object of his lenses. But tonight, oh tonight!, is going to be the very first time for his amethyst gaze to witness their beauty in all its rawness. Not via tools. Not through shadows or from the rooftops. But from the very corner he, himself, frequents at times. That corner that is just a step away from the nest of mad scientists and crime infected vipers. The womb that gave birth to the two of them. Blood of the said womb still stains his hands, amidst the mayhem of hatred and unbounded rage, crimson did become the very first thing that seeped into the cracks of his self. How glorious it was! How warm it was! How utterly bewitching the sight of corpses bleeding for him. But it was not enough. To this day, he laments at missing the change of preserving his first taste at such delight, shaping it into the art that very much fills the halls of his own den. But not this one. As a very dear piece of his almost finished collection, he will make sure to carve them into an eternal beauty. โธป It is a promise.
And so, when the moon disappears behind a thick cloud and darkness swallows his waiting figure further, he has to place one hand over his chest in an attempt to mimic what humans do to soothe themselves, to calm the heart within. A vain attempt, one would call it. Yet, the grin that begins to slither across pale features begs to differ, for pure amusement does manage to surface above all and it echoes through his voice, which, so nonchalantly, bores into the dead of the night.
โ A midnight rendezvous with our creators? For someone who claims to despise humanity, it is extremely romantic, I'd say. โ
The moment the lamb's scent hits his nostrils, the moment their physique adds color to the otherwise monochrome corner of this isolated lot, knowing words literally escape him. Almost in a heartbeat but nay, never does emotions really scratch the thick layer of his psyche. Hence the ripple-less calm of his tone. Which also dominates him entirely when the collector takes a slow step forward towards them; his eyes drinking in each detail they can get from the back of the other. โ But let's never mind that, shall we? Iโve waited so long for this moment. To finally meet you in person. โ If they were to turn around now, a pair of still amethyst abysses would greet them and how that reaching hand of his trembling whilst fighting hard to keep his raw, ravenous desires in check. At this very moment, he is no different than a wolf ready to chase the lamb should their escapist nature kicks in.
A tut-tut is on his lips just before his hand could land on their shoulder.
โ Running wouldn't really be a smart idea, love. But if you so desire, I will happily play along. โ / @nikuichi
Desire. So it is his name tonight, like the many other nights that had passed him by just beneath the layer of ignorance. A beautiful name, a beautiful hymn which is stitched into the borders of the beast's obsession. Faux or nay, poisonous or nay, a lover's song is the sweetest lull for a tryst, like the alluring amethyst shade of a wolfsbane. Perhaps, deep down, that is why he has never once tried to name the prickles in the back of his neck; that violent susurrus, that cold breath of a smothering yearning from within the shadows. Barely contained, undoubtedly. Indeed, despite having been born as the damned one from the same womb, despite never once having his scarlet gaze land on his instincts' object, the lamb could feel the presence of the predator lurking among the tall neon-grassy buildings of a meadow-city. Or so, he would have liked to name it this clearly. But since nothing has truly emerged from the shadows and bled into his reality, all this time, he is left to wonder if it is his fractured psyche playing tricks on him.
For a brief moment, when he passed through the doors of the womb to meet the remaining vipers and mad scientists, he could swear the night was not this still. When he listened to the promise, a different kind than the beast's, offered to him, his very own heart had a calm rhythm. So then, why is he having flashbacks of a certain night upon stepping outside? Even though the blood that stained the hands was not of his own spilling . . So then, why does it feel like his fate will be sealed the moment he passes by the very same corner that he came from? Even the moon feels less kinder than before โธป ah, but where has it disappeared to?
Did you know? That death has a very humane voice? That despite having similar timbre, somehow it is blood-chillingly intoxicating? But if you listened more closely, you could catch the missing life behind each syllable? The hollowness that reaches the cavities of one's bones; soaks in through lush veins only to steal the warmth from them. Deafens the ears so much so that even the anxious beating of life within one's chest becomes a white noise? Did you know? That your eyes could widen so unbearably, so that every nerve feels it? That your voice loses all its strength in the face of it? That your entire being becomes shaken to the core even when you have witnessed it countless times before? But when it comes for you, it is always different, isnโt it? And ah, did you know? That death perhaps has the most alluring face on earth? Though at first glance it resembles the lamb's, there is something about the way those domineering amethysts gaze into one's soul; as if so easily prying into one's deepest secrets. And the way that blood-tinted earthy scent that welcomes you . .
If eyes truly are the windows to one's soul then it makes the lamb wonder if, from the terror that has darkened his scarlets, they can tell each and every emotion and notion dictating his very being right in this very moment? Just when their eyes finally lock on to each other's. Or would they just focus on the swift and solid motion of his hand swatting away theirs? On the rejection?
โ Don't โธป โ Touch me! He would have finished. But remember, in the face of death, strength is easily deprived from one's voice. And "I already know you." He would have added. Instead though, something else entirely ends up spilling from his lips, surprising even himself in all honesty, before his escapist nature kicks in to carry him as far away from them as possible. Something along the lines of: โ So.. you are ... real. โ
As real as he, but certainly . . . more, much more fractured.
But never mind that. For now, where to? His body slips into an alley, vaulting over wired fences and dodging fallen obstacles. Police and home are out of the question. Returning to the womb is too risky. So thenโฆ where?
โธป ๐. the beginning.
Poverty is a cruel thing, it can easily ruin the warmest families but addiction is worse; it often leads to violent endings. On one winter night, a mother left. A father began to quietly leave the door open at nights but not for her return, no. But for shadows to creep in. On one snowy night, the elder of the twins bore witness to a sin. In myths, lust is divine. In myths, lust is humane. But in reality, lust is vile, lust is ugly โ monstrous when done to a boy so small, so naive. It sullies, it breaks and the void it leaves behind. . no amount of dollar bills can fill it. That was what the eyes of his brother told him, before everything went black in a ferocious frenzy.
But did you know? That, nothing good comes out of uncontrolled violence.
Those blood tainted hands are forever yours to bear. That blood, the final gift of a younger brother. It haunts more than the diminished light in his eyes, doesn't it? Indeed, how did it come to this? The stolen knife should have sunken into the flesh of a father, of monsters and the ghost of an escapist mother and yet. . .
โธป ๐๐. echoes of that day still linger.
Guilt is a merciless thing. It is as cold as the fiery embers of undying hatred. But how does one describe the presence that seeps in through the cracks of sanity? When the joy and the relief that it brings along so easily overrides the unwanted reality? When it talks in saccharine tones. Its touch is as real as your own? Even when it is violent, how does one stop a longing heart from running away? Pills and injections. This one odd guy, who has decided to stick with him, would say. This odd guy, who happened to pick him up as a stray dog. To whom Yuuya owns a great dept and endless gratitude.
โธป ๐๐๐. remembrance.
What do you do when you finally remember the emblem burned into the shadows' skin? You join their ranks. It takes time, luck and skill but happens. The first blooming lily of his unfinished irezumi was carved on his back when he became a little brother (shatei) to the large family of Yamabishi in Osaka. From a nobody to a trusted brother, there was a time even he forgot his goal. But that was until he was finally able to own his own small but cozy bar: Higanbana. That odd guy tags with him still, became co-owner of the bar even.
โธป
๐. main verse (age 28- 34) :
Been years since he opened higanbana and successfully gained everyone's trust. Together with his trusted friend, they continue working on slowly isolating their targets from within the enemy group, sabotaging their routines, weakening allies and manipulating situations to create vulnerability. One by one, they โ he begins to execute revenge on the men who abused his little brother and anyone related to them. Naturally, it is taking time (years) and his mental condition is not helping at all. Who knows, perhaps he will meet his demise sooner than he comes close to achieving his goal.
๐๐. consolidation of power: higanbana-gumi (age 35- 39) :
If he manages to live after successfully executing the men, he is going to work on consolidating more power quietly by recruiting loyalists from streets and within Yamabishi (actually forming a small sub-branch like group within the main family here). His influence needs to grow and he needs to strengthen his connections with lieutenants so that he can manipulate the "family"s internal conflicts further and be ready to take down the "parent" when the time comes. Because surely a good parent won't sit still and forgive when a brother kills his siblings... right?
๐๐๐. higanbana-kai (age: 40+ ).
Again, if he is alive by now then it means his irezumi has gained its final form and his branch become a main family. Thus it is officially called Higanbana-kai to show heโs now a recognized syndicate. But what to do with this power? Now that the void in his own chest has also gained its final form . .
parts of his story is tied with my other muse @ammaranthine .
Hachimenroppi Orihara is the clone created just before the last one, the one who brought immense misery to the underground organization that created them. During his brief time on Earth, he has come to deeply despise its inhabitants: humans. And thus, he despises himself, for what he is: a creation of humans. His is a heart and soul that yearn for an end, and yet, despite countless attempts, he has never reached his goal. So then, isn't he a fool? Isn't he a coward, deep down? But it is not his fault, is it? That they failed to mimic the perfect human psyche.
Death would have been his end too, had the last clone not caused a bloody mayhem. Rumor has it that, even though the majority of the scientists responsible for their creation were murdered, the organization itself is not free of the man. That they have developed a parasitic relationship with each other. As for him? He has been trying to survive on his own, keeping a low profile. Yet recently, it seems the organization has found him and offered him a deal: a promise of "fixing" his brainโฆ Will he accept it? Who knows.
important things to consider: due to the last one's mayhem, they did not have much time to experiment on him. he also didn't go through enough training so his body health and combat skills are average. his first instinct when things go wrong is always to run but if he does have to fight, he would focus on quick, decisive strikes, anything to disable or disarm an opponent as quickly as possible. he is an underground courier, which is a job that perfectly fits someone who is not legally registered to the system/has no ID, wants to keep low profile and hates human interaction but still gets paid decently.
