#ink in progress.

[ganbaregokudo]

letters from kyodai. | @lykaiia​ is gonna cut a bitch: "I'm about at the point now where the next person who comes up to me and says something stupid will be rewarded with my fist to their jaw."

     “Long day, huh.” If Lyla is hoping for someone to talk her out of random acts of violence, well, having Hideo next to you is like having an imp living on your shoulder rent-free. All that guff of charming your way out of conflict, gone — he could slip out of his best behavior for a day if the juniors aren’t around, right?  From one animal to another! “If ya need t’make that two fists, I’m all ears!!”

[ganbaregokudo]

‘ Now, now. Let’s take it down a notch. ’ A hand comes to rest against his frame, the muscles underneath palm tense and coiling with bridled rage. What petty remark could aggravate such anger, make low simmering come to such a boil ? Nonetheless, when the tumult of his rippling moods had finally reached its summit, Toshiro had taken upon himself to shepherd that frenzy into something far more… favorable. ‘ No point in taintin’ yer hands wi’ pointless blood. Look at ‘im, he’s cowerin’ already at the sight of ya. Never mind him, after all it’s me ya got a date with. R’ya tellin’ me you much rather deal with some scrubs rather than spend some good quality time wi’ yer old pal here ? ’

     It takes all of his withering calm to not wrench Toshiro’s arm clean off. Fucking disgraceful. An ogre’s temper if he’s ever seen one -- Hideo believed to have had laid it to rest with the past, but here it is, rearing up like a corpse from its grave. He’d heard the trembling man in passing; he swore it so: Lesser demon! And he knows the signs of a guised beast, the two of them cut from the same cursed cloth.      In the old days on the mountain, they’d settle the matter in blood.      For now, he exhales deeply, steam billowing from his nostrils.      “You’re right, Toshi-kun. I hate that you’re right.” You Himitsu boys are always right, or at the very least come across as right. The night is too crowded with life, too fraught with prying eyes to start shit in public like some amateur yankee. Hideo stomps out his cigarette and spits at the young bold punk. They’re lucky the beautiful blond bastard is here to smooth-talk his way out of a disaster.      Speaking of. “Hah, ain’t that somethin’. The plan was to keep you outta trouble.” Hideo flashes a smile at Toshiro, all mischief and wolfish teeth. “Last time I heard, y’had a run-in with someone’s gang and held a cab driver hostage.”      Was it true? Well, maybe. Anything to get their little thug here one step closer to dying of fright.

@cansizlar

[ganbaregokudo]

omens in your skies

      Another day, another force of nature to contend with. Wrenching her sword from a felled yokai, an aobozu, from its corpse, she glares at her newfound company. Rarely does she don a dour expression upon her face, but when the high of battle is still fresh, she will always be ready to strike when necessary. Cobalt blues flare briefly in recognition of the other being’s true nature lingering within. While stern, she does exhibit a small degree of curiosity toward the oni who happened upon her. He may as well wear the skin of a man, but she knows better.

      The skies are an overcast stone-like colour, casting a shadow over the two, bathing the world in mottled grey. A stark contrast to what is known as the Land of the Rising Sun. The godling turns toward the newcomer, sword swinging into full view and dripping fresh blood into the hungry soil below. Her head cants to the side, eyes narrowing into thin, blue slits. While she didn’t wish for a fight to erupt, she does not take well to any attempt to intimidate her. Her semi-belligerent posturing should serve as a universal expression. She does not intend to stay long and thus, one should not get in her way.

      With a sharp flick of her wrist, the blood snaps off the blade and colours the grass in monstrous ichor. While not brandishing the weapon in the form of a challenge, she holds it at her side to demonstrate that he should not approach her, not even by half a step.

       ❝And who might you be?❞ Her accent is that of a foreigner, but the words leave her effortlessly. Well-practiced but not to the point of fluency.

     Pour one out for the one-eyed priest. Nice guy. Always late on dues, so life was out to get him whichever way you sliced it. Hideo, though -- he feels the sulking envy of a monster robbed of their prey. This land is fraught with ghosts that whisper when the wind blows: remember the men who sought your prized head, who razed your mountain and hid themselves behind a holy crusade. She reminds him of them. Embodies the past. The scent of godly blood. Beast killer.      Yet. He remains as cool as his instinct will allow. Nothing personal, he chides to himself. No further away from business than saving face with the competition. A deal, right. He will be on his best behavior. After all, there’s no doubting that she’s not wielding that blade just for show. He’d very much rather not be on the receiving end of it; he’s grown quite fond of his head.       “Ain’t the warmest welcome I ever got,” he says. “But hey, let’s be civil -- I know when I’m outmatched.” In one smooth motion, he unsheathes his tantō and throws it blade-first into the soil. He presents his empty hands to her in surrender, giving his most cordial smile -- which is to say there’s still a clear undercurrent of menace no matter how hard he tries.      “Who am I?” He feigns offense in his tone. “I’m crushed! Lord of the mountain do anythin’ for ya? Then again, the legend ain’t exactly in the public consciousness these days. I’ll let it slide this time.” Hideo bares his teeth out of habit. “I’ve heard talk of some divine figure layin’ waste to the local folkspeople. You wanna gimme a reason why you offed our friendly cyclops here, eh Kami-chan?”

@oplitis​