The night was beautiful. Dark shades of blue, violet and black mixed brilliantly with the sky on what seemed to be a nearly cloudless night. Two shinigami scouted the area underneath the starlit night, the buildings around them reaching skyward. Tokyo was alive even through the night, though to a lesser extent. The scarlet eyes of Ren scanned the area briefly before settling in on the man beside her. A member of the Twelfth, of all people to be paired with. She had never met the man, and she didn't plan to in the future outside of possible meetings in the Fourth.
"We at least chose a good time to visit Earth. The night is rather quiet for now," the Ninth Seat stated, breaking the silence between the two for the first time in a while.
“Hm?” Hayato Kibiyari was not a normal looking person. Strawberry blond hair that was a mess, gold eyes that shone unnaturally in the darkness, and fine features that made the assassin look wolfish. He sat on his haunches, arms resting on his knees, staring out blankly into the night.
“There’s no good time to visit this place,” he responded, a hint of bitterness. “Nothing but sadness and pain wherever you go.” Without warning he let out a biting cackle, his tone suddenly cheery and light, “Then again we’re not in a bar!”
Off ahead of the two shinigami, the blight that was a skyscraper - the Spire - was a disgusting mark on Tokyo.
“I don’t like the smell of this place,” Hayato added after a moment. “Especially with that thing so close.”
Having completed his duties to Cerberus for the day, the Quincy known as Garren Valcourt was now walking the streets of Tokyo, simply passing the time. While he wasn’t seen as an actual agent of the group, Zakki honored their deal and treated him like all the others. He was grateful to the Cerberus boss, not just for giving him a roof over his head when he didn’t have one anymore, but also the protection of his family. The Erdeschalk group didn’t take kindly to his actions, and were still on the lookout for the young Quincy.
Garren came to a halt, stopping outside of a building that reached for the skies. His head craned up to see the very top of this thing, this spire. Although he had asked, not many agents were willing to talk to him about this subject. Apparently it was a rather dismal event that had occurred on Earth, and a lot of people died or were grievously injured. Even without the genocide of a race, there was still mass violence going on in this world.
“Damn shame,” he said quietly, before returning to his silent watch.
The vampire medic looked to the spire that reached skyward, raising an eyebrow at the monument of twisted metal. "What's so bad about being close to it?" she asked curiously, continuing to walk by the assassin.
"'Damn shame,' says the Arrow. Others might disagree, especially those hysterical art fanatics that practically masturbate to this kind of shit all the time," a woman's voice called from behind Garren. It was rich and deep, as if every word was liquid wine, custom-shaped and flavored by the speaker's willful lips.
When Garren turned, he found a woman with dark brown, short hair in a bobbed, sharp cut. She wore dark, smoky eyeshadow with deep crimson-colored lipstick; heavy, sultry. Her torso was covered in a long black trench coat that reached down to her calves and was buttoned from neck to waist. Arms crossed, holding her body tight in the cold air, she walked toward him as the ring of her knee-high boots clinked against the icy ground.
"Personally, when I look at it, I can't hate it." With every word followed a winding trail of fog that emanated from her mouth. "Sure, there's a dirge of 'shame,' but it's also a steeple of power."
Merlot-colored eyes met his, and the woman gave him a wide, slithering sort of smile.
"And what's your name, Arrow? I haven't seen you lurking these parts before. Are you a new agent with the company or are you just someone that tries to run around unnoticed?"
“Gives me the damn chills,” Hayato answered. As if to demonstrate, he reached up and hugged his shoulders while visibly shivering. “If memory serves me right, some pretty damn power-house players were around here. Threw down with some big nasty and got canned.”
His eyes drifted upwards to the scraping spire lit by the nightly glow. It was haunting, eerie, and reminded the assassin that while the spire was being constructed - all horrendous mighty power creating it in seconds - his closest friend and brother had been neck deep in trouble.
“So some rumors say, at least,” he clarified. Hayato doubted Hare wanted him tossing around whatever gossip he’d picked up. “But all the same, there aren’t any ‘nice’ rumors about how this thing suddenly dropped itself in the middle of Tokyo.”
Pursing his lips together, the assassin kept a wary eye to the shadows, his instincts and enhanced vision giving him an edge against those with normal eyes. Reflexively, he reached out to the world with his spiritual sense. Surprise danced across his thoughts when he felt spiritual power close to the tower.
Why would someone be there? he wondered.
Pausing in his tracks, the assassin stared up at the monolith once more. His golden eyes gleaming, and his thoughts troubled.
The sudden appearance of a visitor surprised Garren, but he tried not to seem off as he turned around. He also had to try to keep his vision focused on her eyes, as she was quite a looker. He had never been quite so happy that it was freezing, as it made it rather impossible for him to blush.
As for her words...she had called him Arrow. How did she know that he was a Quincy? He wasn’t wearing anything that might have implied it. Was it possible that she was as well? If it was, he was hesitant to identify himself. Last time a Quincy had found him, they tried to kill him.
“I’m not so keen to tell my name to any random bypasser. Ladies first?” the young man asked.
'So no reason that's true, just rumours.' Ren frowned as she listened to the brief, if not accurate, explanation by the assassin. She looked at spire, her body staying still as a stark contrast to the man's shivering. The mangled mass of metal and such didn't make her feel scared. It didn't give her the willies. She didn't see a reason to be scared of it or anything. Maybe it wasn't even made by powerhouses like captains. Maybe it was abstract art.
"I guess we should start going, right?" she asked, diverting her attention back to Hayato. "We'll get far away from this thing as well, if you'd like that more."
“I wish,” he replied. Taking his eyes off of the Spire, Hayato reached into his uniform and withdrew his phone. “Currently, out of all the areas, we could maybe get fifty meters from this place before running into some other shinigami’s area.”
With a heavy sigh the assassin put his phone away and shook his head, lamenting, “I’ll just have to suck it up. Won’t be the first time I’ve had to deal with a situation I don’t like, and it won’t be the last.”
Stretching his arms high over his head, Hayato gave a loud yawn before his arms folded behind his head. He started walking again, his movements smooth and casual.
“So,” he said, trying to draw attention and thought away from the spire, “how’s the Fourth?”
Ren shrugged her shoulders, smiling. "I don't get why you don't like it."
The vampire continued walking beside Hayato, a small spiritual thread wiggling into existence. Soon, there was a second one near it. Spiritual beings, that was obvious, but any other niggling little details, Ren couldn't figure out. She then had her attention directed back to Hayato, answering his question.
"The Fourth is pretty nice. It's definitely busy, that's for sure. But for someone who doesn't sleep, it's perfect," she chuckled, tossing a lock of her two-toned hair over her shoulder casually. Ren looked up at Hayato, raising an eyebrow. "What about the Twelfth? I heard that Yamamura-san was promoted."
The assassin gave a rather indifferent shrug as a part of his response.
“Don’t really know, and I don’t really care. So many people go through the ranks lately that it’s not worth knowing who’s where.” Without any rhyme or reason, Hayato began to roll his shoulders, his wrists, and his neck. The movements were routine rather than instinct, but time had long since chosen not to differentiate the two, apparently. “Honestly, though, who the hell wants to be in charge of a buncha murderers, thieves, and generally sick people?”
The smile on his face spread from ear-to-ear, and the whites of his canines gleamed in the light of Tokyo. His golden eyes shifted to the healer as he said, “Ain’t no place in all of Seireitei like it - not even the Seventh - and I love it. No place I’d rather be than next to someone who I know is willing to stab me for his own success.”
Her skin crawled as Hayato's golden eyes stared at her, his words flowing through his lips like some snake. They reached her ears and caused her to visibly shudder, without any care about what he thought about her reaction. "Well... that's good, I suppose. It must be a personal preference, I suppose," she sheepishly returned a smile, though it was obvious that it was slightly forced as not to be rude. "I've only met two of you assassins, and they didn't seem like the kind who would stab someone in the back. Except for the one who did stab me in the back."
Ren continued walking, looking around. Without warning, a yawn surfaced, causing her to stop momentarily as she stretched her arms out, a loud crack coming from her shoulders. "Have you ever been in a different division? Or did you feel the Twelfth suited you immediately?"
"Looks like we'll both be playing a game of secrets tonight," the woman replied with a sly grin. Deliberately, her tongue curled to wet her drying lips.
Tilting her head coyly, the dark-haired vixen sauntered toward Garren, holding his curious gaze as her hips sashayed with every step. She drew closer until her arm grazed against his right bicep. Even in the cold air that walled between them, she felt the rising heat that emanated off his skin. Her dark eyes traced the sharp curve of his chin, paused slowly on the pink of his lips, and lifted to follow the contours of his nose.
Her intense gaze, like dark hooks, plunged into him when she said, "So tell me. Why do you think this structure is such a 'damn shame'?"
No names. Just your everyday conversation with a hot stranger, Garren thought to himself.
Then she started to move closer and he really had to try to not lose his cool. Close contact with a lady is not something he was used to. In an attempt to control himself, Garren instead focused on the question that she had asked.
Breaking the little vision war, the Quincy looked back at the spire as he spoke.
“A tombstone is supposed to be a monument to a person that died. To remember the years they lived and have some sentimental one-liner engraved on it. All this thing does is remind us of pain and suffering felt by those on that day. Nobody should have to remember that. If I had the power, I’d rip this thing down, hopefully avoiding any collateral damage,” he explained.
The young man’s head moved back, once again looking into those dark eyes.
Hayato actually snorted when he heard about the other assassins, and commented in the same dour and gallows-humor tone, “Then they weren’t very good.”
To the question he merely shrugged, a motion that made it look as if he had just deflected the question with the very action. “I’ve been around other divisions. Heard their philosophies and their holier-than-thou speeches about principles and what not. Like I said, the Twelfth is my home. I did dirty work like this when I was in Rukongai and there didn’t seem like much of a reason to change jobs once we were in the Gotei.
The medic turned her head back to the spire, looking at the pillar of twisted and mangled metal. Two beings were close to it, as still as statues. Hardly anyone came back the spire, as most would have felt the same sensation Hayato felt, so why were there two just deciding to socialize around it?
"Anything else we can talk about to pass some time before we're called back to Seireitei?"
"You'd rip it down because it's a 'tombstone' as you call it," she said, her lips carefully shaping every word. She smiled ruefully then offered a dark chuckle. "I dare say that it's a monument." Her smoky eyes lifted and followed the large spire to its apex. "A monument meant to represent the independence of Earth. And yet..." She shook her head as she leaned in closer to the man beside her.
"Your boss, the rest of Cerberus, and even that shitty Orpheus has done nothing but sign a contract to extend Earth's slavery longer. Only it was under the veil of an 'alliance,' tch. An alliance of what, exactly? Open sport and idiocy for Thanos to wreck our world for wannabe Olympic fun? Even before he became head of the corporation, Zakki has always been an emo mini-bitch. And his support of that World Tournament only proved it."
Suddenly the woman erupted into a tirade of insults about Cerberus, Orpheus, and the slavery of Earth. This was a whole nother side to her, reminding Garren of a siren, luring men with their sultry voices only to be a monstrous demon waiting for them.
He remained quiet through her short rant, catching on the word ‘Thanos’. While he didn’t use the word himself, Garren knew that that was the word Cerberus agents used to describe shinigami. The last part though irked him, calling the Cerberus leader an emo mini-bitch.
“Ma’am, I’m just going to say this once. You’re entitled to your opinion and I’m highly against violence against women, but insult Zakki again, and that smile won’t look so pretty anymore,” he warned, a Seele Schneider appearing in his right hand.
“I can’t vouch for the tournament, I didn’t participate. The shinigami may have nearly wiped out my people, but their purpose in life is balance. The Quincies caused an imbalance, and it led to their demise,” Garren said, pacing while he spoke.
“Now I’d like to ask you something. You called the shinigami Thanos. That’s not a word used frequently. So I get the feeling you’re not an ordinary person. Mind explaining yourself?” the Quincy demanded.
She guffawed as the sound boomed from her throat to her lips, and tears started to form in her eyes. She laughed for several seconds, the noise occasionally interrupted by hysterical giggling as she wiped the liquid from her face, only mildly curious if her makeup was ruined.
"Is that a threat, lover-boy? Because if not, you really ought to hide that arrow-sword you've got there. It gives the wrong impression, you know!" Her face, red with thrill, was sore because she was so unaccustomed to smiling so much in recent times. Turning, she faced Garren squarely and brought her hand to touch the fist that gripped his soul-cutter.
"Now let's say I keep calling Zakki an emo mini-bitch. And let's also say I don't tell you who I am. What are you going to do about it, Arrow?" She licked her lips and delicately grazed her fingers up his wrist as she tenderly stroked the length of his arm. "Go against your obviously weak 'morals' and take a stab at me? Go ahead, baby." She smiled, showing him a radiant grin.
Then a dark rage blazed over her expression and she bit, "I. Dare. You."
Garren was becoming nervous with this woman. It’s like she was toying with him, threatening and flirting at the same time. Manly instincts screamed at him to follow up on his own threat, but they were quelled as he considered the repercussions if he did.
His hand shook, but the Seele Schneider vanished. He made his choice.
