⚖️

𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙴 & 𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙰𝙲𝙸𝚃𝚈.

[zenigatakeibu]

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《 𝙸𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙲𝙴𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝙽𝚈 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝚂, 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙰𝙲𝚃 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙾𝚁 𝚉𝙴𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙰𝚃𝙰 𝙾𝚁 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙽𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚃 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙿𝙾𝙻 𝙰𝙶𝙴𝙽𝙲𝚈 》

ZENIGATAKEIBU : 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙾𝚁 𝚉𝙴𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙰𝚃𝙰 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚄𝙿𝙸𝙽 𝙸𝙸𝙸 … a study in red strings of fate, selflessness, self-destruction, short fuses & even shorter leashes, of how the body keeps score, and the lifespan of a rivalry. ⚖️ 𝙲𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙳.

[04k96]

[nevver]

The Sun rises in the East, Bo wen Huang

[damazcuz]

if you see me tag Character on a post and you think to yourself "how the hell is that Character" mind your damn business alright we're on a first name basis. me and Character.

[de-salva]

Visit Original Link

[jca-archive]

Izumi Ota, c. 1980

[kirikosensei]

⬩ ⬩ ⬩ 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖙𝖎𝖈 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖉 𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖚𝖗𝖌𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖊. "That's a nice way to put it." Kiriko flicks his net into an empty container. With a wet slap, algae spatters over the glass. Conflicting feelings rattle his resolve. A murder scene of protista likely isn't anything striking to anyone else, he supposes. Still, that twinge of guilt brings his net to a halt.

Kiriko's attention locks on the captain's breath. Much like the Toyotama's humming, it's steady, deep and grounding—healthy too—he notes. "Captain," Kiriko's voice wavers a bit. His eye holds Zenigata's gaze for only a second, before he turns away. "What do you consider a necessary sacrifice?" The synthetic looked around the laboratory as if the right words were just waiting to reveal themselves.

"What I mean to say is... For androids, all life is supposed to be sacred. I was made to protect life even at its smallest significance." Kiriko's finds a lock of hair to rub between his fingers—a muscle memory, a strangely human-like gesture. "I'm sure you can imagine how this can become... paradoxical for me. The prioritization of human life comes naturally to androids, but ranking other forms of life can lead to conflict. Even with human life at the top, should it come to it, there is no way to weigh a human life against another."

A silence hangs between them for a moment before Kiriko speaks again. "I... felt a sort of guilt just now cleaning the tank." If his flesh were capable, his cheeks would be flushed a subtle pink. A feeling of another sort. Sheepishness. Just a feeling, he considers. Not quite an emotion. Maybe something close.

[zenigatakeibu]

⚖️ 𝙰 𝙽𝙴𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙰𝚁𝚈 𝚂𝙰𝙲𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙸𝙲𝙴... In a perfect world, there would be no such thing. This world, though-- 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙰𝙽𝚈'𝚂 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙻𝙳-- is anything but. Everybody's a sacrifice. Dying colonies, unbearable temperatures, novel diseases every new cycle: it's all one unforeseen tragedy after the other. Zenigata has long given up believing in perfect worlds. Out here, you'd be a fool not to.

The captain draws closer, and the doors slide shut behind him with a quiet hydraulic hiss. Toyotama's lab smells so clean, so sterile. A slice of life separated from the stink of smoke and sweat and steel that permeates the rest of the ship from bow to stern. Kiriko is the same-- free of the consequences of human effort. Of human vice. Though it would seem, perhaps, not entirely. The synth speaks of guilt. The weight of one life against another. He fidgets with his hair-- or whatever the cybernetic equivalent of hair is he has hanging from his head. He's a shadow: not flesh and blood but undeniably still human-shaped.

Whose shadow, Zenigata cannot say.

〝 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝙼𝙴 𝙸𝙵 𝙸'𝙼 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙰𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙽, 𝙱𝚄𝚃… 〞 A clumsy start as he navigates just what it is he wants to say. Piloting a 450 ton ship through the vacuum of space is one thing. Philosophizing with a robot is another. He is no wordsmith. His jaw tightens, and like Kiriko his gaze can't seem to settle in any one place. It travels from corner to floor, beaker to tank. Anywhere but the synth. 〝 .. I didn't know you could feel guilt. 〞

[zenigatakeibu]

Sato grinds her elbow into Zenigata's ribs. "Sick of retirement already, old man?"

@satoharue.

⚖️ 𝙰𝙲𝙷--! 〝 .. I-is that what you call this? Retirement? 〞 Were he any more sober, Zenigata might have called it a depressive bender. Here though, now, half a bottle into the night and shuffling through endless boxes of unsorted files, he's less inclined to be honest with himself. A cigarette that should have been snubbed out long ago hangs from his lips. He squints beneath the sickly yellow lamplight. 〝 It's a 𝚂𝙻𝙰𝙿 𝙾𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝚁𝙸𝚂𝚃, is what it is. The commissioner--... That idiot, he never listens. He thinks suspending me will fix all his problems. I always scare him with all the dust I kick up. 〞

[zenigatakeibu]

' oi , jiji . ' it's no cinderella-smooth carriage ride in the back of a cop cruiser, and yet the great phantom thief still remains lounged, postured arrogantly along the back seats as nonchalant as any other sigh-inducing brat who had in fact been picked up by his better to be brought immediately home after making some trouble.

he isn't exactly worried despite his circumstances, and he's sure zenigata can tell, too - the two of them exchanging glances, or the occasional charming, glittery-eyed grin on dark's part in the rear-view mirror. a cuffed car ride like this could've been taken in gloomy sulk or plain silence, yet what's disgrace to him by any other person almost feels a privilege, a reliable comfort when it's zenigata.

the opportunity for conversation between them was already rare enough, and so dark breaks the silence with a little demonstrative jingle of his cuffs. for once, the low carry of his voice doesn't curl with a tease; only curiosity. ' ... what do you get out of this, exactly? ' his eyes half-roam, half-roll about the car's interior; the claustrophobic cage of it trapping and squashing not just him, but the bulky rhinoceros of a man in front, too.

' i'm not talking about just me, obviously. i mean all of ... this . '

⚖️ 〝 𝙸 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙰𝚂𝙺 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙰𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶. 〞 He's half tempted to bite back, fiery eyes watching Dark lounge about from the rearview mirror. It's criminally late, the full moon their only companion in an otherwise inky black sky. The ride had been quiet up until now, almost peaceful, though he should have known that wouldn't last long. Nothing ever does around 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚂. 〝 The whole world at your fingertips and this is how you choose to pass the time? Whatever happened to keeping hobbies? Or are you too interesting for that? 〞

But what does Zenigata get out of this..? Broken bones, is what. Concussions. Bruised knuckles. Sprains. Too many close calls to count. After 27 years on the force, it's a miracle he's still standing, let alone alive. (To say nothing of the times he's flatlined... Literally.) 𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙸𝚃 𝙺𝙰𝚁𝙼𝙰; 𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙸𝚃 𝙵𝙰𝚃𝙴. He's at the mercy of both.

〝 .. I wouldn't expect you to understand. 〞 He's never been keen on talking about himself, least of all to those riding cuffed in the backseat of a police car. 𝚈𝙴𝚃 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚂𝙾𝙵𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚂 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙰𝙼𝙴. It's admittedly strange seeing Dark like this. And though the thief is by no means his own, there's something almost familiar about the position they've found themselves in. 𝙽𝙾𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙻𝙶𝙸𝙲, even. Cops and robbers were, after all, a tale as old as time. 〝 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙸𝚂𝙽'𝚃 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙼𝙴. 〞

Never has been, never would be.

[charl0ttan]

oh shit my leitmotif is on here hold my drink

[zenigatakeibu]

i want to find new mutuals but i’m so out of touch w modern animanga and that’s what everyone is writing these days so it’s virtually impossible. weak cough

[zenigatakeibu]

@sosordid 📂 continued from here.

⚖️ 𝚂𝚀𝚄𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶, 𝚉𝙴𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙰𝚃𝙰 𝙿𝙴𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝚄𝙿 𝙰𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝚄𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶'𝚂 𝚄𝙽𝙵𝙻𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙵𝙰𝙲𝙰𝙳𝙴. She's right, it isn't much... Faded brick, rickety windows and a rusted fire escape perched precariously around the corner. The poor apartment's seen better days. Then again, it's hard to imagine it ever looking any nicer than this. He laughs a little, popping the car door open before maneuvering himself out, fedora placed back atop his head. 〝 𝙽𝙾 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂, 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂. I've slept in worse, I'm not so easily scared off. I'm sure I'll feel right at home. 〞

It's a quick trip up, just enough time to get his luggage squared away and for a tiny tour of the room. Comfortably small, it's oddly reminiscent of his own apartment back in Tokyo-- 𝙾𝙽𝙻𝚈 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙻𝙳'𝚂 𝙲𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙽𝙴𝚁. As Zenigata follows Izzy back down to the car, he wonders just how long that will last...

〝 You spoke of your partner-- 〞 Another tight squeeze into the passenger seat; Zenigata reddens with the effort it takes to get situated again. 〝 Detective Hyun, was it? I believe Interpol mentioned him to me just before I left. 〞

[zenigatakeibu]

and what if i came back a lil bit. (LOOKS AROUND SCARED

[zenigatakeibu]

he knocked izzy off the bed and she just fell back asleep on the floor #bearprivilege @sosordid

[kirikosensei]

KIRIKOSENSEI ⬩ ⬩ ⬩ indie, canon-divergent and low-activity of the genius surgeon and the Reaper's Avatar ── .✦ Doctor Kiriko. ⬩ ⬩ ⬩ 𝖗𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘 ﹠ 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙

[zenigatakeibu]

unfortunately dont have the muse to be over here BUT happy bday to my beautiful bear-shaped inspector...💖🎉🎈

[zenigatakeibu]

@octaviusphd 📂 starter.

⚖️ 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙶𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝚂 𝙸𝙽 𝙿𝚄𝚁𝚂𝚄𝙸𝚃 𝙱𝙴𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝙸𝚃 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝚂 𝙸𝚃, 𝙱𝙾𝙳𝚈 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙲𝚃 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙲𝚃 𝙰𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙴. It sprints, down on all fours. Huge shoulders bulk above a snarling head, eyes amber-glowing pits, piercing the darkness like reflectors. Those legs– thick as tree trunks, with five inch claws to boot– propel it through the subway at breakneck speed. It skids into walls with nearly every turn, reckless in its bloodthirst.

       Were it capable of critical thought, it may have found the man funny, the way he scampers… It’s never seen anything quite like him before. But he smells like the surface– smells like 𝙼𝙴𝙰𝚃. Drool flies from its mouth at the mere thought of tearing into whatever it can get a bite of first: calf, forearm, shoulder. It yearns for the gruesome echo of broken bone as ribs cave beneath the force of a well-aimed pounce, teasing out 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙰𝙻 𝚂𝙲𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙼 before the lungs give, too.

       The chase is what excites it most, though... This pumping of muscle, of blood and breath. It bares its teeth, panting, now at a full gallop, footfalls echoing back in a terrifying sort of rhythm. These winding tunnels are etched into its memory like scars; it could run them backwards, blind, even. It’s not a matter of if it’ll catch him, 𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽.

       -- But a sudden burst of light blurs its vision, forcing it to an abrupt halt. 𝚁𝚄𝙼𝙱𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶, beneath its paws, making its whiskers twitch... A train. Distant enough but closing in fast, approaching the subway platform just ahead-- the subway platform its prey just leapt onto. There’s a decision to be made here. It doesn’t think twice about pushing on. The tunnels open up, now lit with clicking fluorescents. Past the turnstiles is fresh night air: a park-- the park, its hunting grounds. Onlookers watch in horror as the weretiger barrels onward, still, fangs glinting in the streetlights-- ❝ 𝙶𝚁𝙾𝙰𝙰𝙰𝙰𝙷! ❞