Lonely Nights [Open]

Eaon was tired and dehydrated, that much he knew for certain. Eaon's muscles burned and his feet ached and his eyelids grew weary and Eaon knew he needed to rest soon, but still he kept walking. Nothing had been the same since the Incursion, and the only way he felt he could keep control was to walk out for a little while. Eaon lived in Tokyo and went to school there, he was studying to be a doctor so he could save more lives with surgical tools than he could by using his sword. Yet still Tokyo was just outside the wasteland that was Karakura, the home that he'd previously chosen to live in for its spiritual presence. 

Eaon was specially gifted and specially cursed, his power made dreams come true, illusions and fantasies of the mind both deadly and entertaining, but it had another side effect, lucid dreaming. Every single dream Eaon had he lived and he remembered and lately all that he could find was the scarred ruins of the life he'd once known. Things had been easy before, all Eaon really had to worry about was the occasional vengeful Shinigami coming to collect Eaon's head for cutting down an ally in the dark, or maybe a Quincy drunk on power using the city as an Archery range. Now Eaon had to worry about political ties with the Shinigami, he had to question what the Arrancar were, and every night as he lay sleeping atop the ruins of his dreams in smoldering ash, a smile endlessly grinned back at him. Black with the soot that Eaon had buried it in, black to the core with the obsidian he'd carved it from, smiling like the menace that hunted spiritual prey through the darkest mid nights in Karakura. Eaon had changed, but even now the Drekavac was apart of him.

It was not all together surprising that Eaon had left Tokyo to come to Mount Fuji. The colossus was iconic to Japan and the air was calmer and much more peaceful there than the hustle and bustle of the metropolis that Eaon resided in. It was more like Germany where Eaon had grown up, and Eaon thought if he exhausted himself through a long walk and then spent the night on the mountain maybe he'd clear his head and be able to rest peacefully before making his way back into the city. However Eaon had overdone it, he'd walked too long and too hard, without enough food or water and now he was exhausted, lost in thought, and without a means of contact as his phone had died hours before. As the night set in and the heat and humidity from closer to the sea let up, a tired young warrior found himself still in the question of why he even bothered to remain in such a dreary place after all that had happened. 

Eaon didn't carry the thought for long, his mind too tired to focus on anything for more than a few minute quickly zoned out and became fixated on the clicking of the sheath of his sword across the concrete. Eaon wasn't sure when he'd made his way from where he was to concrete, honestly Eaon wasn't even sure where he was. While he'd gotten to know Tokyo pretty well, Eaon was still clueless about the rest of Japan for the most part. Still a slow calling that made the hairs on the back of Eaon's neck stand up pulled him further down the concrete. It was a feeling Eaon had come to recognize consciously as the power that radiated from a spiritual being of some sort, but in his current state as if instinct, Eaon drew closer to the calling like a moth drawn to the flame. 

By the time Eaon reached what was calling out to him, Eaon was too tired to notice anything other than the man's pink hair. Slumping down to the ground, Eaon felt relief in his legs and when he closed his eyes to regain some composer Eaon had to fight in order to open his eyes back up again. "Scuse' me sir, you wouldn't happen to have a phone would you?" Eaon said still unaware of the man's name or his spiritual level. The young swordsman only had two things on his mind; Getting home and sleeping. Caution would take a backseat, besides, as Eaon figured, he had a sword, that automatically gave him an advantage right?

--

Work count: 747  / GP: 14

Rafael honestly wasn't sure what to think, on this case.  He'd been handed a picture of a purple-haired gentleman and told to report and signs of 'seditious activity'...as if that was something he could even tell at a glance?  They'd been particularly vague about the details, but he'd managed to glean enough; the man was part of a political marriage, an arranged marriage.  The employers seemed very intent that he remain part of this marriage, and that he not start getting the wrong ideas into his head. Rafael hadn't thought to ask what the wrong ideas were, because he had a feeling asking would've been the wrong idea.  And so here he was wandering the streets at four in the fucking morning.  He carried a coffee in one hand and a hot dog in the other, careful not to spill either as he moved.

There were very few people on the streets right now, and those he did see had little to no interest in engaging him in conversation, or distracting him.  That was fine by Rafael, who largely had no interest in whatever these people's mundane problems were.  He'd been given just enough hints about this case to get enticed, just enough for the itch of curiosity to come to bear...but the payday was the more important part.  They were willing to pay handsomely if he could find evidence that this guy was up to no good, and so he didn't feel too bad about buying a few frivolities on their dime; the woman was well beyond loaded if he was any judge.

Still, the curiosity was starting to niggle at the back of his head.  This guy was apparently part of a prestigious clan of spiritualists, and there was significant fear that he'd been...touched by a youkai.  The words were pretty bland, but the feeling was all too easy to spot.  He knew what the face of a person thinking of a monster was, and Rafael only knew of one kind of monster in this world; it wore a white mask, and rarely felt much need to hide or play it careful.  If a hollow was after this guy, had gotten its claws into him?  It was pretty likely everyone would've known.  But there was something wrong here, yeah...Rafael could tell.

Finally, he spotted a flash of purple nearby.  At least, he was pretty sure it was purple?  These streetlamps turned everything a sort of chemical yellow that made it hard to tell what anyone looked like.  But their hair was too bright to be black, and certainly wasn't any shade of red or brown he'd seen up to now.  He'd take a chance, then; he shoved the remainder of his hotdog in his mouth, chewing industriously and doing his best to brush the crumbs off of his sleeves.  He'd decided to go for something a bit more laid-back today, and was wearing a Hawaiian shirt that was covered in any number of flowers and hermit crabs.  Beneath it, he had a very simple tank top on.  The outfit served to accentuate his girth more than tone it down, and made it look like an entire volcano was walking down the street.

Nothing to see here ladies and gents, just Krakatoa coming to visit his old buddy Fuji.

He rose the hand holding his coffee towards the smoker, and then glanced down to spot a very tired, very hurt looking person.  He decided this was as good a time as any to build some rapport and possibly set his target at ease.  Couldn't by all rights suspect a fat guy in a Hawaiian shirt walking just outside his property at 3 in the morning, right?  Definitely nothing suspicious...at least, nothing more suspicious than the meat that had come in that hotdog he'd bought.

Damn gas station food.

"I wouldn't if I were you.  Good chance he'll toss it away and then pull a gun.  But now that there's two of us, I guess we could go knock on some poor sap's door."

He nodded his head just slightly, trying his best not to give anything away as he did.  The suspicion was pure crap, of course; this guy didn't look any more threatening than any other hobo.  But didn't those raised in the cushy life of luxury have some sort of pathological fear of the homeless?  This may be the perfect chance to get in on their good side.

Or to set himself up as a complete dolt.  That would suit his purposes just as well.

Markus wasn't a big fan of moonlight escapades.

That is, he disliked it when other family members decided to go on them at a whim. Maintaining proper security protocols was hard enough, what with the outdated surveillance networks that were constantly breaking down and having to deal with the same greedy information brokers time and time again. He knew the necessity of these operations to maintaining the survival of the house in these tumultuous times, such operations including protecting vital members of the family, but couldn't they just for once make things easier on him? It felt like every single night his phone would buzz in his pocket, and Markus would pull it out and see that one of the family members was headed out to town at a dangerous hour. This time, it was his uncle Haruki, the leader of their house. Markus sighed and looked outside. It was a cold, dark night. The man likely wouldn't be trying to take a walk during this time of day, alone, unless he really needed to. But regardless, he needed some backup, as it truly was too dangerous to go alone. The similarity of that quote to an old video game's raced through his mind as he pushed himself up and out of his desk chair and put his shoes on, making him chuckle slightly.

Well, it's not like I don't trust in their combat abilities, Markus thought as he grabbed his gray peacoat from his closet and donned it, keeping the heavy jacket unbuttoned, but they should know by now how dangerous it is out there. Shinigami, hollows, other mortals...crap, I need to run another census scan. And update my Shinigami patrol map. And make sure the firewall's secure--the network's kind of been acting strange lately. I wonder how mother's doing, also? Markus ran through the mental list of things he needed to do as he exited the estate and headed down the same road his uncle headed down. The temperature slowly became warmer as Markus neared the location of his daimyo, an occurrence no doubt caused by his decreasing proximity to Mount Fuji. Too bad--Markus thought better in the cold.

But his eyesight, ignoring the monochromacy for now, still seemed to be sharp. There he saw the unmistakably tall figure of Haruki, from the distance but a silhouette leaning against what appeared to be a lamppost. Markus picked up his pace now, his head constantly turning to scan the surrounding area completely. Most of it looked safe, but they were still technically on Tsutsugami property, so this didn't come as much of a surprise. Better safe than sorry had always been a mantra Markus subscribed to religiously. But as Markus approached the street lamp, he saw two more figures imposed against the light, their quiet voices obviously directed at Haruki. Two strangers near Tsutsugami property/ Markus didn't like this one bit.

He picked up his pace and arrived at the streetlamp in a matter of seconds, the light flooding over him just as one of the men said something about a gun and two of us. Markus eyed both of them down in a matter of seconds. The first man he observed was but a tired man, his posture slouched and his hands outstretched as if expectant of something. A phone to make a call or some cash, probably. But the man who had just finished speaking looked much more suspicious. He was an older man, about as tall as Haruki but nowhere near as built, but something about him seemed vaguely suspicious. The assumed familiarity in his tone with his uncle, the way he seemed to just appear out of nowhere with a coffee in his hand. Had it been any other time or place? Markus probably wouldn't have suspected anything of him. But it was three in the morning, and experience had taught him nothing good ever happened past two.

Markus loudly cleared his throat before speaking, grabbing center stage. He didn't like all eyes being on him, especially his uncle's, but in this case, it would have to work. While his voice was rather deep for his age, it was clear from it that he was still a younger man, if not an older boy. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he said in his sharp voice, it's quietness not being a factor in the dead of night, "I'm sure you all have nothing but the best intentions, but you happen to be very close to some private property very early in the morning. I'm afraid I'll have to ask both of you to turn back, now, although I'd be happy to call a cab for you both if need be." Markus subtly eyed both of them once more before slowly crossing his arms. With his now-hidden left hand, he checked to make sure his handgun was secure in his holster. It was. Markus made eye contact with the two men the whole time. He had yet to acknowledge Haruki, however this was for a reason. He didn't want these men thinking he, the "bad guy" was too much associated with the man he was here to protect.

"Well? I need to know if you need any help getting back before I can leave, sirs." 

He hoped this potential situation would be over soon enough.

887

"There really aren't words to describe how little I'm concerned with a gun." Eaon tapped the hilt of his sword which he'd been using as a walking cane. Eaon wouldn't have been surprised if someone had drawn down on him before, after all he usually walked around armed and tended to be a bit of a social recluse due to the amount of things that happened in and around Karakura. Still that didn't mean Eaon wasn't ready, even now achey and tired with dehydration Eaon knew his body wasn't at its limits. It took three days to die of thirst, three weeks to die of hunger, and three minutes without air. Eaon considered himself one of the best mortal swordsmen alive, even though he was fatigued no ordinary weapons like guns really concerned him anymore. Unless someone got the drop on him, then Eaon had reason to be concerned, he was after all, only flesh and blood, but not at this range, not right in front of Eaon. 

There were more important questions worth asking here, like what was this inebriated smoker's obsession with purple, or why was a fat Hawaiian talking to them. If Eaon had been a normal human, which he wasn't, but if he were, he would not have seen what was arguably a punk kid with a sword and a purple haired smoker and decided to walk up and toss accusations at either of them. Granted, Eaon did like to think he had some amount of common sense- a trait which Eaon felt was severely lacking in most people these days. Still Eaon couldn't rightfully ignore the vibes he was getting from either of them, as suspicious as the fat man was even if the Purple Haired man was high unless he had some sort of gun anyway his calm reaction to being approached in the night by a man with a sword was unusual to say the least. 

Then there was a more unusual thought that crossed Eaon's mind, what if the man in purple wasn't the one the fat guy was worried about having a gun? What if it was Eaon himself? This was even stupider of the fat man as Eaon had always had a sword in relatively plain view, it wasn't like he'd been trying to hide it. Besides, Eaon did own guns, he just didn't have them on him, Eaon was first and foremost a swordsman and then a marksman and then in a close third a martial artist. However Eaon had primarily worked on his swordsmanship and was most comfortable with it, there was no need to have a gun, anyone with a brain even if they didn't know Eaon's personal history could have probably deduced that from the fact Eaon was carrying a sword, and yet Eaon felt as though there was something else going on here. Why go up and randomly accuse someone of potentially being a criminal? Either they were and at which point they would proceed, if they were like Eaon to enter draw stance and use battojutsu to immediately slice you 300 pounds of lard the fuck open and cut the greasy gas station food you'd just inhaled right the hell out. Or the alternative was they were a criminal and you were just being a dick, at which point if something bad happened the case could be made you were provoking it. The fuck meth was this guy smoking? Or were the memories of the ruins of Karakura such a distant memory already that everyone assumed no one would do anything drastic from that point on? 

"I'm not sure if I should thank you for the offer of the cab or tell you to go fuck yourself because being close to property isn't actually a crime." Eaon started already annoyed by the rent-a-cop's attempt and commanding a serious presence. "But honestly if you just have some spare water I'd settle for that. I walked a bit further than I'd meant to." Eaon did try to be somewhat political and dial back the fact he was obviously a twenty something who had a bit of a problem with authority. He'd had this issue with the Shinigami the first few times Eaon had met them too...and he'd even killed one or two which did not actually do anything to help his cause. Still as someone who'd frequently told other people to get the fuck out of Karakura whenever they'd shown up to some extent Eaon could respect the man's position. He had something to protect, that was something Eaon understood and valued, but still he did find the greeting to be incredibly annoying. Things had really come full circle though and oddly enough Eaon found the purple haired drinker and smoker to be less suspicious/antagonizing than both the fat man and the rent-a-cop. 

--
Word Count: 783 GP: 15

Rafael wanted to laugh at the guard's face, and just barely managed to bite his tongue.  He wanted to point out every single way they'd messed up, all the things he'd managed to confirm in just those few seconds, but there was a few good reasons not to.  One, the guard was no doubt armed; the Haruki were an important family, weren't they?  With important documents, and important secrets to hide?  So yeah, any guard worth their salt here would be armed.  Rafael couldn't tell where, not at this distance, and if they tried to draw on him he wasn't sure it would end well.  But even that wasn't his most important reason.  Rafael had been shot before, at least a dozen times.  It was never pleasant, it never healed fully, but it was still rarely fatal on a guy like him.  He just had too much fat to soak the blow.

But the more important concern was his cover.  Rafael hadn't come all this way to blow his cover in the first five minutes, and if he started going full-on detective there was pretty much no way he could play off this interaction.  So instead he opted to take a long drag of his coffee, setting it on the ground and then crossing his own arms, in clear mimicry of the guard.  He glanced at Haruki and the newcomer, then spoke in a gruff tone.  "Yeah.  Both of you beat it.  Since, y'know.  Both means two.  And since I can do basic math without a calculator, I know three minus two equals one."  The last words were spoken with the sort of smug certainty only a little kid could manage and why was he so proud of saying that?  He'd tried so hard not to break his cover, too!

Ah, hell.  There was no point crying over spilled milk, or big mouths.  Instead he opted for pointing at the purple-haired individual, trying his best to appear intimidating without showing even the smallest bit of intelligence.  "Look at this guy.  He's just smoking.  Why the hell should he get to stay?  Let him finish his smoke and make him go home.  Doesn't seem fair to make him stay.  If anyone's gotta go, he's a strong second."

He then pointed to the man with the sword-how the hell had he missed that the first time?  Who the hell wore a sword in public sight these days?-, his jowls knitting into an even more severe expression.  "And this fuckin' guy.  Walking around, wearing a sword, probably breaking at least a couple laws, and asking people to give up their prime form of informing the police when they've been stabbed in the gut and robbed?  No, nah, he's got to go.  This guy's top of the list for 'doesn't belong'."

He stuck out his tongue at the guard, not even sure what he was doing anymore.  Did he just want to piss them off so much that they said something else incriminating?  Or was he waiting for them to shove Haruki into a cab and send him off to...somewhere else?  Somewhere much easier to track him from?  He didn't even know.  He just knew he had to make sure he didn't stick out like a sore thumb in these people's minds before he left.

"And as for me?  I'm here to visit a friend.  You might know him?  Name's Fuji.  Kinda a big guy.  Chiseled features.  Real hothead.  Supposed to be really popular in this area."

He patted his own chest, taking another sip of coffee as he shook his head.

"Oh, right.  I didn't introduce myself, did I?  Name's Vesuvius."

Corny joke complete.  He'd managed to maintain his reputation, if for at least one more night.

Markus wanted to sigh with exasperation from these two intruder's antics, and he had just met them.

The two strangers who had shown up on their driveway in the middle of the night, hanging around the most important person in the Tsutsugami family, were perhaps the worst pair fate could have picked. The most threatening one was the boy (relative to the pair, of course), who with his sardonic comments had made it very clear to Markus that he had a weapon and supposedly wasn't afraid to use it. Markus took a step forward from his position on the fringe of the cone of light provided by the streetlamp, putting himself between the twenty-something snob and Haruki. The other one wasn't so much a threat as he was annoying. His tone was vaguely reminiscent of that a standup comedian would take--constantly flowing into the next joke to be conveyed, always laid-back--but this only made Markus more fed up with him. If he was the kind of guy who was going to continually do things like make jokes using not exactly clear wording as a joke or pretend to be a volcano, Markus wanted to associate with him as little as possible.

After staring them both down for a good deal of time in an attempt to intimidate them, tapping the metal grip of his handgun, he finally addressed them in perfect English. "First of all, I wouldn't be trying to be telling me about the laws of this country and then trying to tell me to go 'fuck myself' when I'm the man who instead of calling the cops instantly after noticing you were here decided to help. Loitering at untimely hours is a crime here just like it is in the United States, gaijin." Markus put particular poison on that word, gaijin, foreigner, despite harboring no personal proclivity towards racism--he was a foreigner himself, of course. He simply hoped to throw the boy off balance by using a language he was perhaps not accustomed to, as it was clear from his features that he was a Westerner. Markus then mock-curiously looked down at the large sword. "I also hope you have a permit for that weapon. The police of our country would not appreciate you carrying such a weapon, especially in any area they know is restricted."

Markus then turned to the older, obese man. "And as for you, Mister Vesuvius, you can go hang out with your friend Fuji by taking a number of trails in the surrounding area--just not this one. I'm sure the cab driver I'm about to call would be happy to provide you with a map. He can probably drop you off at a place with water, too, sword-boy." 

Markus pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed the phone number of a cab driver he trusted. He was ex-Yakuza, sure, but he provided valuable information about the people that came around Fuji for a relatively cheap price. When the cabbie picked up, Markus quietly conveyed his need for a driver at that moment in the Tsutsugami Estate's driveway. The man quickly complied, telling him he would be there in a matter of minutes. Markus then quickly hung up and put the phone in his pocket. He wasn't going to take his eyes off these two until he was sure they were off of their property.

He took a step back to be within whispering range of Haruki. Switching tongues for a third time, now speaking in German, Markus conveyed his distaste of the situation as quietly as he could in the harsh language. "You shouldn't have come out here without telling anyone, sir. Your wife may worry, and every time you do we run the risk of having you in danger of being hurt by buffoons like these."

637

The annoyance, and irritation, building up in his nephew wasn't something the Daimyo was blind to; unlike the boys ability to see in color. Truthfully, though Haruki would never admit to it, he was rather keen on picking up on the internal turmoils of his family; be they the intense hatred his brother used to feel for him, or the deep seeded love his wife managed to cling to despite his attempts to shatter that love. It was a trait engrained upon his soul by his father; the previous Daimyo. A true leader understands his people, he'd say. He'd said the words so frequently, in fact, that sometimes Haruki even dreamed of the words. If time hadn't cut his time with his father so short, Haruki would have called the dreams hauntings.

" Relax, Markus. " In a low tone, the flamboyant males painted nails hand collapsed over the boys shoulder; fingers reassuringly tensing for a moment. " What would people think if they heard you, a member of this family, use such words? " Public image was everything to a family such as theirs. " Plus, you have to give the boy some praise. There aren't many that'd speak in such a way to us. "

His words ended with the tipping of his lips into a smirk, while his sapphire gazes shifted towards the American. An oddity to say the least; clear European features, with raven black strands of hair that possessed unique highlights of silver. To top things off, the boy dressed like the Japanese and even went so far as to carry a sword on his left hip. A sword. The sight of his weapon of choice brought his plucked, black brow to a perk. " Fancy yourself a swordsman, do ya boy? " The idea amused him to moon and back; so much so that his shoulders could be sound bouncing with the haughty laughter that escaped his pinstriped lips. American's were renowned for thinking too highly of themselves.

Wind passed silently through nine-tails of fur; thin fabric not being so lucky as it audibly whipped around thin, feminine legs. " Master? " A whispered voice from over his shoulder where a delicate chin had come to sit. " Is there a problem? " She used his body, and her words, as camouflage to slip his katana snugly into a belt loop.

" Only as much as there ever is, Izanami. Run to the house and tell the servants to prepare a hot meal and bath for.. " His gaze fell first to Markus, who undoubtedly had something to say against the matter, and then to the other male; Vesuvius. " Two guests? " His outstretched hand turned palm up in question. " I assume the famed Vesuvius could use another warm meal in his gut. " Eyes lowered, falling upon object in question. No doubt another meal or ten could fit within a cavern as vast and expansive as that one. " Oh, and Izanami? " The glance was cast back over his shoulder just in time to catch the spirit before she faded. " Bring back a glass of water, with a pot of tea and cups. "

Without a word, the kitsune nodded; sending her ebony locks washing down her voluptuous frame.

" You're both welcome to make yourselves at home for the night. It's late, and there aren't any inns this side of the mountain. " With a casual push of his hands, the Daimyo's body removed itself from the support of the lamppost. " Shall we? " Another casual motion, one where his hand acted as a guide for the others to continue down the road to the estate.

" Fortunately, Vesuvius, your old friend Fuji hasn't been hotheaded in quite some time. " He decided to keep playing along with the rouse, if only because it kept tensions low. " Otherwise, I don't think I'd be living quite so close to him. I'm none too keen on waking up in the middle of the night with my house burning down around me. "

Eaon ignored the bark of the dog that had presented itself before him. Eaon didn't really concern himself with the bark of most people and the fact this one came armed didn't increase Eaon's concern that much more. Sore and dehydrated Eaon would tire out quicker, but with a flow of chemicals pumping through his bloodstream at the start of a fight, especially one where Eaon would be seeing which drew fastest, the guard's pistol or Eaon's sword Eaon doubted he would notice. Battle had a way of making one tend to forget aches and pains and while in prolonged combat Eaon would tire more easily due to his physical state, the chances of a long fight decreased dramatically once a firearm entered the fray. It would be over in seconds, the speed of Eaon's draw versus his opponent's, come bullet or sword one of them would fall rather quickly and that would likely be the end of it.

"I do sir, a good one at that. If your guard went for his pistol I'd cut both arms and his body in half before he ever even drew it." Eaon concluded his previous thoughts while answering the master's questions at the same time. Eaon didn't doubt his speed, he didn't doubt his strength, and Eaon had been trained with swords almost as early as he'd been trained to read. And Eaon also had some unknown advantages, having spiritual abilities to help his speed increase faster than normal humans could hope to attain was something else entirely and almost certainly unpredictable to most normal humans. That was a large portion of the reason behind his more or less off putting attitude when it came to dealing with most normal humans despite their positions or power in the more feudal, more traditional parts of Japan. There was not a normal cell in any prison on Earth that Eaon was incapable of escaping and outside of some spiritually aware humans in Karakura, and some Arrancar and Shinigami he'd crossed blades with on several occasions Eaon himself was fairly confident most of Japan's spiritually aware had no idea even who he was. This was something Eaon had grown quiet fond of and quiet accustomed to. 

The situation had played out rather unfortunately though as it had pit the guard against Eaon and Eaon against he. Ultimately all Eaon needed was some directions and water and he would be fine, Eaon hadn't meant to stumble upon their property and wasn't even really loitering unless you count getting lost and asking for directions as loitering, which no police officer would. Still the random appearance of the fat man and his pointed accusations that only served to foster more friction and animosity among a group of the seemingly over suspicious and wildly uncaring. Eaon didn't quiet know the reasoning behind that particular action, but it did get under his skin in away that most things didn't. Eaon was used to pissing people off and getting kicked out of places, it was something he was particularly good at. However there was a fine line between pushing one's luck as far as it could go of your own accord and having someone insinuate that you were a mugger or murderer looking for an easy mark. 

"Thank you for your generosity sir." Eaon commented as the purple haired man motioned that they follow and he half hoped the man didn't take enough offense at his boisterous comments about his swordsmanship. As Eaon walked he listened to the talk between the purple haired master and the fat man who's name was foreign but honestly Eaon had forgotten it. Eaon's steps were still matched by the clicking of his sheath against the ground as Eaon still used it as a cane not at all afraid at any potential attacks. Eaon was confident the dog wouldn't bite the hand that feeds by disobeying his master and drawing on Eaon anyway. Doing so would be murder and most likely get the dog fired, although previous discourse between the man and his pet had indicated to Eaon that they were at least somehow related though Eaon couldn't tell how or through whom. Eaon was surprisingly good at paying attention to detail, nights spent as a sword carrying vigilante in Karakura prior to the incursion made observation for survival a necessary tool and one that a human should rely on most. 

Eaon did feel somewhat stupid as they walked though and he listened to the purple haired lord's comment on the fat man's hotheaded friend. It had only just occurred to Eaon that they were both referring to the volcano instead of some other brash arrogant youth like Eaon. Without bothering to mention that he continued walking silently figuring it best not to speak unless spoken to at this point. It sounded like this family was from old Samurai blood at some point in time and if that were the case they had a really elegant fancy way of saying some dead man in armor murdered another family and took their land. For some reason that made them prideful and made them feel as if they could actually hope to "own" the land that would exist long after their deaths. Their family may inherit it sure, but really getting all fussy over an estate or family history didn't make much sense when you would just die at the end of your life regardless of if you'd been a king or beggar.

--

Word Count: 915 / GP: 18

Rafael watched the ensuing events with a neutral expression, shading just the tiniest bit towards a scowl.  This was about what he'd expected from a typical 'look and see' job, but it was a bit too neat this time.  Not only that, but the target had made him.  Usually it was critical he not be noticed for some time, but he had just had to choose the one night that Haruki was going to sneak out for a late night smoke!  Or hell, for all he knew late night smoking was a regular thing for him.  He hadn't had too long to dive into their habits, had been rushed to do this job as quickly as possible.  For some reason, the employer seemed...almost desperate.

"I had a very acceptable virgin on the way over, but I'm sure I could fit a little more around the edges.  Always room for dessert, y'know how it is."  He shrugged, trying his very best not to show how frustrated he was here; invited into the household?  To sit and share a meal?  This was either the best or the worst luck.  He could find out plenty, but not a damn thing he could use.  And worse yet, he couldn't even try to tail them after this!  There'd be too many questions, and he'd be on his guard.  He was almost tempted to call up the employer, return the deposit, and go on his way...but no.  Something wasn't right here.  Something had him interested.

"Who the hell was that you were talking to, anyways?  I barely even noticed 'em, but I heard you say Izanagi.  You don't really think that you're friends with Izanagi, do you?  That'd just be silly.  Take it from the talking volcano, gods aren't real."  His expression was absolutely deadpan, his had tightening around his cup, lukewarm coffee spilled over his hand, causing him to grunt from the faint warmth there.  The guy in charge was bad enough, but his guard was...problematic in another way entirely.  They were shifting glances, and Rafael was absolutely certain they were armed.  How far could he push things before they drew on him?  And if they did draw, could he get them out of the picture?  It didn't even matter if he could find out what he needed, if he could just get a minute alone with Haruki he'd be able to deal with whatever else happened.  At the very least, he could tell them what he'd been hired for.

"That was German, right?  And I'm pretty sure I heard the word buffoon.  I gotta say, I do think anyone who walks down the street at 2 AM with a sword is a pretty damn big buffoon."  He paused, trying to wrack his brain and recall what little he had managed to dig into about this guy's backstory...he didn't want to give away too much too quickly, but the comment about burning houses seemed to ring bells.  Had there been some sort of fire?  Something related to burning?  Or something similar?  He stared at Haruki, his piggish eyes narrowing as he tried to gauge their reaction.  This was always the toughest part of the job; how was he supposed to do his job when he also had to pretend he was a stranger with no interest in their life?

"I've introduced myself.  It seems about like time for everyone else to start dropping names too.  Who knows, maybe I'll get trumped as the most iconic one here."  He rose his crushed coffee cup as if he were holding a trophy, cracking a grin for the first time.  If there was one perk to the job, it was that he could keep getting under the skin of people like this bodyguard, and making them look bad.  That was almost worth as much as the pay itself.