Chapter One: Paradigm Shift

[Cirlot]

---

Kit Lee-Shen Wei - Konoru Shrine [Night 1 12.23.18]

---

It's as she hauls him back, talons in his hair, fangs snarling against his ear that her other hand finds his throat.  Squeezes.   Something kicks in the back of his mind, a dead fear dying from the brief bloom of vitae. Breath.  She squeezes and he feels the tides within him not still but rage, crashing against the damn of his throat.  The vitae within rages at the obstruction, a surge of heat battering at the damn of her fingers and he growls from someplace he can't name.

"Fuck - "  then the hand releases and he's on the ground, fingers clawing at the dirt as his lungs heave a breath he doesn't need.

" - You."

And then another breath comes, the mammalian fear sparked to life by the vitae flooding him, suffusing him, tripping the length of his nerves and prodding them to life.

Sakura settles down in front of him, deep in her haunches, leges together, arms folded over the points of her knees.  Her head cocks to one side and a smirk plays on her lips.

"Do you need that air you're breathing now?"

"Oh shut it Morpheus."  Kit focused on the act of breathing, the willing of it, the way the Vitae lept at the memory of it, how . . . eager it had been, before the fear had taken hold.

He remembered fear, feeling it, not thinking it.

His hands were cold against the earth, and his nails dug into the dirt as hid fingers curled against the winter damp.  Dead flesh in a mockery of movement, how . . .

The dam at his neck remained, the memory of the pressure, the rising heat of it stayed in his throat.  Potential bottled, ready to burst when he needed to drain away, to trickle - not flood - his limbs and lungs, to bouy him up not drag him down into the dark.

His throat was warm and full and he remembered the moments before the darkness, Rin leaning over him, an empress in shadow as sight faltered and desire rose.  Blood trickled from her lip, his blood as she leaned in and kissed him.  He felt her jaw move, her tongue run against his teeth and the swelling of blood that filled his mouth and then his tongue and then down his throat -

Shaking with the exertion of pantomiming breath, Kit closed his eyes, focused on the warmth in his throat and then bit down on his tongue.  Familiar warmth trickled into his mouth and he swallowed it, drop by drop.  And drop by drop it slid down to the waiting stillness of his vitae, each one sending ripples cascaing across the obstruction, bouncing against the walls of him -  and then swallowed again and as he did so the heat fell, dribbling down his throat into hi belly, into his lungs, blossoming into the warmth of the moments before the dying had begun.  The memory of the Kiss.  Even as the warmth fell it rose - to his cheeks, across his throat  and then down again to the space between his ribs.

The tremors in Kit hands, in his chest stills as the exertion of breathing fades into memory and he fells his heart beat low and soft and steady in his chest.

"Shit."

***

The seconds seem like long hours as he hauls himself into a sit on the grass; legs half folded, back against the edge of the bench.  Finding and hefting the bottle, Kit tipped in a toast to Sakura before taking the plunge.

"Here's to tasting it twice - "

One burning mouthful later he was blinking tears from his eyes at the sharpness of the sensation.  Through the water in his eyes he fumbled, finding his lighter and cigarettes in the grass from where they had fallen . . . lighting up he inhaled deep, his first vice soothing and calming and relishing in the fleeting sensation.  The cigarettes tasted ever so slightly off,  a hint of copper from where he dragged the inhalation across his tongue, infusing the smoke with the taste of his hurt.

Fire and blood.

Letting out the breath he didn't know he was holding, the smoke curled up, lazily in silver silken ribbons, curling from his mouth, from his nostrils like some age'd dragon or wyrm made indolent in it's supremacy.  Or what remained of a soul, returning to the world.

Rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, Kit took another, smaller drink, and waited.

[AberrantForm]

A minute later Taro returns, closing the doors behind him. He has two drinking glasses in one hand. When he sees you holding the bottle, he laughs and hurries over to reclaim his bench. "I see you have committed yourself properly! Forgive my oversight earlier . . ." he clinks the two glasses down on the bench between " . . . behold, blades to slay a dragon!" He takes the bottle out of your hand and half-fills both glasses. Setting the bottle aside he then grabs one glass and gestures for you to take the other.

After you have equipped yourself for battle, he raises his glass and says "To ancient times, and distant music!". You clink glasses and knock them back. Though it's easier to take the amber fire from the glass, doing so does nothing to alleviate the flavored inferno. Taro hunches over coughing, head hanging down. Then, he throws his arms up and begins to sing:

"Men have been living together with Matsuri!
God of mountains, God of the sea.
Thank you very much for everything you've done for us this year!
Snow is dancing on young men who are wearing white loincloths;
It's Matsuri, matsuri, matsuri, Matsuri of good harvest . . ."

Taro leaps to his feet and points one hand at you and the other hand gestures wildly about the garden.

"Soil-infused hand, My son, It's our treasure!
Men become more manly with Matsuri.
God of mountains, God of the sea.
Thank you very much for our lives and bounty!
Against the wind, fishermen sail on a ship that has a five-color flag;
It's a Matsuri, matsuri, matsuri, Matsuri granting a good catch of fish . . ."

He then crouches next to you and puts one arm around your shoulders, the other raises to point at the neon-tinged sky.

"Look,The red sun is rising. My son, Row the boat the fastest!
Go for it like fire. Tears and sweat are men's dreams!
I'll live intensely again.That's Japan's Matsuriiiiii . . . . ."

He drags the last line out dramatically then plops down onto the ground and sits against the bench, like you. Leaning his head back he pants to catch some breathe. Looking up at the night sky, he says "Wish I could see the stars tonight. All this light pollution . . . obscures the heavens. We forget that we are all part of something much bigger. When's the last time you been out in the country, Kit, heh? When's the last time you've looked into the infinite?"

The booze is starting to kick in for Taro, you can tell. This is how it always starts with him. Before long, the monk will begin expounding metaphorics. After that, if he keeps drinking, it will go one of two ways. Either he will travel full circle back into his un-serious carefree manner with a determination to "keep the quest afoot", or he will push forward into full-on mystic musings. You can never tell which will come.

[Cirlot]

---

Kit Lee-Shen Wei - Konoru Shrine [Night 1 12.23.18]

---

Taking a sip, Kit can't help but chuckle-snort into his drink as Taro plops down beside with an undignified thump as the song ends.   

"You did start early - keep up the singing and I'll have to break out the 'Chasing the Moon' and no one wants that -!"   Shaking his head, he took another sip and sighed, just a little, as he let it sit on his palate.  The whiskey burned like cold fire and it was . . . pleasant.  Just pleasant.  Oh it was excellent whiskey - warm, notes of caramel and oak and dried fruit with a hint of jasmine - but it wasn't - it wasn't . . .

Eyeing the glass, a shadow flickered across the hustler's face as he dared not finish the thought.  It was like the memory of the best drink he'd ever had while living, not the thing itself.

While living.

The glass was smooth and cool and sculpted in his hand and so help him he wished it was the warm, yielding flesh of that foul mouthed addict.  That the burn on his tongue tasted of salt and metal.  It had only been hours, hours since and already he was marking time before and after.  And before seemed farther and farther away with each sip.

The cherry ember of Kit's cig glowed in the dark of the shrine as he took a drag, rolled the smoke around on his tongue.  Letting it out in a small puff he looked over to Taro.  Now wasn't the time to wool-gather.  Flicking a bit of ash onto the air, he grunted noncommittally at the Monk's question.

"Never been to the County, Tee.  City kid growing up and since I came here - " another shrug, another drag, his eyes finding earth even as the monk's search the heavens.  " - Tokyo barely tolerates us chugokujin, the countryside?  Hell no.  If I wanted to be pointed at by passersby and booked for every petty crime the local busybodies can think I'd head on down to Asakusa and order sheng jian bao at Owariya.  Easier ways to catch a beating - " another puff and Kit sighed, leaning back and matching Taro's posture, casting his gaze up and out to the street-light dimmed heavens above.  A bare handful of stars glimmered through the velvet gloaming of the light polluted haze, and the wisps of cloud mingling with the reflected streetlight gave the night a texture of undulating and broken shadow.  Like a ceiling of sky.

Kit lifted a hand, held it at length, fingers curling as though to touch, to scrape the texture above him away and he remembered the ceiling he'd woken to.  The ceiling he'd fallen from.  Another bounded sky with him suspended above an abyss.

" - and you're looking at it wrong.  We're not looking up - " shutting his eyes, Kit settled into his uncomfortable lean against the bench.  The stone of it made a poor pillow.  " - we're looking down at a deepness of sky.  The stars aren't shining down on us, they're below us, hungry, burning, waiting for us to fall.  Into fire or darkness, doesn't matter.  The infinite is just waiting for us to slip up, for our earthly bonds to lets us go."

"Why am I here, Tee?  You wanted a drink we could've met at a bar.  We don't do this at your - " the hand dropped halfway, wrist turning this way and that, calling out the four corners of the shrine and the space they were in.  " - family place unless somethings up."

[AberrantForm]

"I'll sing not another word, if it prevents you from disturbing the peace of my garden with your dread tone . . ." He elbows you playfully, but is surprised when his push doesn't even shift you. "The whiskey gives you strength! Or have you been going to a gym? Regardless, the drink seems to be having a good effect on you my friend. When you arrived, I was worried you were ill, how pale you were. Now though, I see you color has regained, and that old fire is back in the eyes!"

 

"We should go out sometime. I know an excellent crossroads-bar on the far side of Kanto where we can spend an evening. The people there are very gracious, I assure you there won't be any problems with your heritage. And come midnight, I'll take you to a old temple near there. From that high place you will see the heavens unveiled, unhidden by the lights of modern comforts. Beauty! Beauty beyond imagining and words alone. We should go in the spring . . ."

 

"And regarding heaven's stars . . . This is a key difference between you and I. This matter of looking up towards versus looking down into. We are both correct, our spirits are simply orientated differently. My Kami has indicated to me that I am of a Northern orientation. Yet I have always regarded you as one whose soul faces the South. There is no right or wrong there. Not has it ever hindered our questing together. For it is said, is it not, that opposites attract? Yet, I think that is too simplistic. I sense that our spirits simply find equilibrium with one another."

 

"Very well, I shall come clean. The quest of this whiskey was of importance on its own accord. Yet, I did hope it would assist me in persuading you of another matter . . ."

 

He takes another drink and hesitates, buying some time while he clearly thinks over his next words. "Many people come to this Shrine, for one reason or another. Most, come to honor the Kami and to seek blessings and protections for their households. Some, come to confess their shortcomings and seek the Kami's strength in overcoming their mortal failings. Others, come only enjoy the peace of my garden, using the tranquility to read or rest. I interact with most of any of these folks; I take their prayers, hear their requests, lead them in rites, or simply listen to their troubles and provide advice. Normally, I would never divulge or discuss any of what I discuss with them, to a third party. Normally, I would never betray the trust of any of my Shrine-comers."

 

He sighs, says a short prayer under his breath, then continues, "Over a dozen of these people have described a most peculiar phenomenon. One that is both puzzling and troubling. First detail to note is, that they are each locals, that is to say, they reside here in Ikebukuro or very close. Second detail is; they are each rather devout spiritualists, dutiful and consistent. And finally, they are all male, and furthermore, fathers of large families. That being so, they are all well on in their years, the youngest of this group just turned forty."

 

"Now, though some of these know each other, and a few are even friends, everyone single one of them discussed with me a very troubling experience. These experiences vary somewhat from each to each, but there are a couple of through lines to the accounts. Here is what they generally describe to me: That once a month, they have a bad dream. In this dream, they awake in the night, hearing the sound of their youngest male child crying. In the dream, their wives never wake, nor seem to hear the crying. The men say that they arise and go to their child's room, and find a woman in black clothes . . . um . . ."

 

He steels himself and pushes on, "They say they find this woman on top of their child, pinning them down, one hand clamped over the mouth to muffle the crying. And that she . . . she . . . is biting their necks. Some men say that this woman is stealing their Chi, and some say she is taking their blood. They all say the following though; that when they run in to stop the woman, she overpowers them quickly, and the dream ends. They say they wake up hours later, in bed. Many say they will find bruises on themselves, or be sore, as if from a fight. Most go to check on the children, only to find them sound asleep and undisturbed. Yet, many of these men say that after having this dream, their youngest child is tired, lethargic, and depressed. This seems to only last a day or two. Some have taken their child to the doctor, but no disease or injury is detected."

 

"I started hearing this story a few months ago, and at first dismissed it as merely bad dreams. But now, having heard nearly the exact same story from over a dozen men, all devout, all over a certain age, all having sired at least four children; I have become concerned. My first response was to perform powerful rites of household protections and to provide potent blessings of empowerment upon the fathers. Yet, the experiences continue to occur. It may seem a ridiculous theory to you, but I believe these experiences cannot be mere coincidences; I believe, that some sort of foul spirit is attacking these households. The police cannot do anything, even if they took it seriously. And I have done all I can personally. Yet, my flock still comes to me, seeking answers, seeking help. So, I've reached out to a Grandmaster in Nigoshi for wisdom. And also, I am now asking you to help."

 

Edited April 10 by AberrantForm
Just to bold the dialogue (see edit history)

[Cirlot]

---

Kit Lee-Shen Wei - Konoru Shrine [Night 1 12.23.18]

---

Kit goes still - glass half raised to his lips, cig slowly smoldering to ash in his hand - at Taro's description.  He knows before Taro speaks of dreams, or crying.  Before Taro speaks of blood.  He knows without knowing and the false seeming, the pretense of the life he no longer had began to slip away.  He still breathed, he still flushed pink at the warmth of the whiskey but his heart stopped and did not beat again.

Sakura places a steadying - or is it warning? - hand upon his leg while behind him in the depths of the shrine Aki growled, a low tigress's rumble as she stalked between the gates.

Setting his glass down on the bench, Kit frowned, leaning forward and settled his hands beside him on the grass.

"Fuck, Taro."

Then, with a speed which would have recommended his mortal self but shamed his immortal one, Kit thumped the monk hard on the arm.

"You little shit.  Seriously?  Get me liquored up and tell goddamn ghost stories trying to get me to - " the offending fist opened into a hand, flailed this way and that in the space between them.

" - you have a bunch of old men having bad dreams and you think 'this is a problem for my buddy Kit?'"

Shaking his head, Kit slumped back against the bench.  He made a show of a sigh, picked up his glass, downed it in a single gulp.  He barely tasted the burn.  Across from him Sakura's eyes were shining glass, wolf's eyes, shimmering with reflected light as her face went calm and still and scared.

He could feel her fingers digging into his leg, just to the point of pain but not beyond it.

"I'm not sure what you expect me to do."  He delays the concession, draws it out the length of his cigarette, letting the the smoke fill the space between them while he thought.  Feared.

Of course there were more like Rin.  Like Ripley.  Like this goddamn tower.  He hadn't even met the one yet and now another one was here, in his backyard.

Which he knew, knew was his problem.  Because Sakura wasn't just warning him with those eyes and those claws, she was holding him down, keeping him from pacing like Aki, like a caged thing ready to leap it's enclosure and take on the interloper.

"Will they even talk to me?"  He gestured to himself, the half-wasted hustler with the wrong way eyes.  "Like, I can ask around, and if you can get the details - who, where, when - I can try piecing something together to see if there's something in common.  Maybe they're all sitting on landfills, sucking down radon every night, or their wives are part of the same MLM . . " he traffics in the mundane because it's what Kit of two nights ago would do.  What the Kit that Taro is drinking with and is laughing and smoking and slightly buzzed should do.

" - look, odds that this is an actual, RL fujoshi is pretty damn small.  You get you're just trotting me out to make 'em feel like the secular world is taking their concerns as serious as the spiritual one, right?"  Running a hand through his hair, Kit stabbed out his cigarette on the grass, grinding out the spark in the dirt.

"Just . . . send me the details, I'll see what I can do."

 

[AberrantForm]

Taro had been tense, awaiting your reaction. He relaxes at your jokes. He reaches one hand out and places it on your shoulder and squeezes. "You'll help! Really? Thank you. I was half worried you'd tell me to leave you out of my religious nonsense." The hand pulls back. "I normally wouldn't involve someone outside the faiths, but think a secularist might be what's needed. You see, I have tried to catch this foul spirit myself. A few nights ago, I spent the night at one of the victims place. This man has had the dream every 17th, for the past three months. So I waited outside the child's room. Just past midnight, I heard a creaking coming up the stairs. I admit, I was terrified. I watched. I saw . . ." He stares down into the pond, eyes distant and brow furrowed, " . . . something. A dark shape, like a head. And yellow eyes. Looking right at me. I've never felt more terrified, Kit. And yet, I've never felt braver. I felt, felt . . . it was like an indignation. Maybe anger. Whatever, it overwhelmed my fear. I've always believed, but I've never SEEN, never . . . faced a spirit before. I stood and lifted my Talisman, but before I could even start saying the banishment verses, the shape was gone. I heard quick creaks down the stairs, then quiet again."

 

Taro drains his glass, refills it, and offers to refill yours. "I stayed until well into the morning. I never went to sleep. I spent the day in meditation and self cleansing. When I finally slept that evening, my rest was harried and tormented. The following morning, the man came and told me, that he had the dream again. Bruises on his wrists. Child is weak. I could barely look him in the eyes . . ."

 

"It was then I knew. That this spirit will avoid me, will simply work around me. Perhaps will avoid ANY monk or faith worker. It is subtle and mindful and insidious. I no longer have any doubts. I am not going through the motions. I don't want to offer false comforts or empty promises to these men, these fathers. I want to help them. I MUST help them. Yet, if the spirit just slips away before I can confront it, then how will I ever perform the banishment?"

 

He smiles, "That's why I thought of you, Kit. You may not believe in the things I believe, but you posses many qualities that some monks I know, lack. You are willful and determined. You have strong sense of self. You are no coward, but neither are you a reckless fool. And, you care about people. You may project otherwise as is wise, in your line of work. But I believe you do care. You're no Robin Hood, sure. You may use the people you help to benefit yourself, but you aren't merciless or gluttonous towards wealth. I've never seen you go out of your way to harm or abuse. In fact, I've seen you take risks on the behalf of others. You are well liked by many in the community. A few may NOT like you so much, but they don't know what they are missing."

 

"If you would agree, I'd like to try another strategy. Tomorrow night, another man is . . . due . . . for a dream. I'd like to have you wait inside. I will explain to the man that you are a accomplice of mine, one who specializes in such spirits. I will tell him I am unable to come myself, because I will be performing a long ceremony for a recently deceased. He will believe me."

 

"I will give you a tablet from the shrine here. It is an ancient artifact, so please treat it with care. If I understand it's history correctly, it was once used to compel spirits to feel dread. Perhaps it will cause the spirit to forsake the household for good. If it does work, I will go from there. If it doesn't, then I will have to await the advice from the grandmaster."

 

"Though you may not believe in these matters as I do, that does not stop me from feeling obligated to say: there may be danger to this. If this spirit is strong enough to touch the living, to subdue grown men, then it could be strong enough to hurt you. I cannot promise that you will be safe. And I do not ask this favor lightly. If you can help me with this, I will return the service a hundred times over."

[Cirlot]

---

 

---

"You, my friend - " Kit sighed, clapping the monk on the back.  " - are an asshole, and a master at burying the lead."

"Coulda just said you'd seen some shit.  Didn't need to do - " a nod to the bottle, to the shrine.  All of it.  " - whatever all this is.  Frankly, I should be insulted.  Getting me drunk.  Taking advantage to get me agree to some woo-shit.  Must think I'm a cheap date."

Sighing, Kit got to his feet, brushed off his pants and offered Taro a hand up.  From the grass Sakura looked up at him, unreadable before turning away, her attention going back to the koi-pond and some mystery he couldn't fathom.  

"Look, don't know what I'm gonna find, and I'm skeptical as shit that this some sort of Ringu BS but if I could survive the mundane shit I dealt with tonight, not much worried about tomorrow.  I'll be there.  And we got the same thought for different reasons - best I do this solo.  If it's a spiritual thing, well, it's like you say, and if it's a living perv then they'll have made you whereas I'm so much a stranger."

"Any chance any of these worried fathers or childer actually joined the twenty-first freaking century and had I dunno, a phone or webcam or something up when shit went down?  Getting eyes on ahead of time might help."

[AberrantForm]

Taro grasps your hand and you pull him up easily and gracefully. His eyes have become glazed. For a moment after you lift him he wavers, teetering for balance. He laughs at himself, listening to you speak.

"I haven't asked, but none of them have mentioned it. If they had some sort of footage, I'd imagine they would show me. I'll ask around though." Swaying not-so-slightly, he fills his glass again, and offers to fill yours. Not waiting, he gives a silent toast to you, then to the pool, then to the building. He knocks it back and straightens up, staring abruptly forward, face quivering, then releases a shaky exhale, fighting to remain composed. He almost has it beat. He is finding his momentum. Kami help us all . . .

 

You are also experiencing a most peculiar phenomenon. The conservative amount of whiskey inside you is producing insights into your new "biology". Whereas when you drank blood earlier, it gushed down you into your . . . stomach? Perhaps. In truth, it feels more like a broiling black pit, even when you were full. A pulsing chasm within. And from that dark and undulating cavity pulsed the blood, now altered, into your chest and waist, then legs and arms, then finally the outer parts. From the extremities, the altered blood then pulses back to the pit, then out again. A continual, slow, throbbing transference of the blood from chasm to all, back to chasm.

 

When you invoked the Flush, this process escalated. The circulation elevated and from the highways of vitae grew streets and alleys.

 

But this whiskey is going into the chasm and staying, gathering into some static pool. It does not join the continual stream of vitae, though it seems to be altering the output vitae in some way. No, actually, it's not altering so much, it's influencing. The distinction feels . . . important, somehow.

 

"I will send the details after I have spoken with Mr.Hamoki, the patriarch I speak of. And again, thank you. My provender for conflict is limited to the spiritual; but I simply could not raise my hand against another living person, even a potential pervert. That is not my place. Yet, I am mandated to provide or attain help for those who are faithful to my Shrine. Thus, I have entered a conflict of philosophy before any choice is made. Should this make sense? Even at the lowest level of Life, conflict reigns. Microbes devour microbes, or compete for other forms of energy. Yet, across the scale, I. Standing still, at conflict in my mind. Nevertheless, a hard decision is no excuse for wasting time. So my decision was to speak with you. Of course you didn't disappoint. I don't blame that on the whiskey, though . . ." He was a finger at you, "I'd bet my Shrine you would've helped me, booze or not."

 

The bottle is half empty. You feel the booze clearly, and a with every glass you drink, the vitae is influenced further. Soon, you will be thoroughly. . . tipsy.

 

Taro on the other hand, is one glass away from entering the realm of "divine inebriation".

 

[Cirlot]

 

---

Kit Lee-Shen Wei - Konoru Shrine [Night 1 12.23.18]

---

"Suckers bet - " Kit responds with a dry chuckle as he reaches down and grabs the bottle before Taro can go back for . . . fourths?  fifths?  His own partaking sat uneasily: there was a detachment ro the process that left him at odds with his vices.  To feel the liquor sit, churn and clash but never meld with the vitality that infused him, to just cycle back upon itself with dissipation or consumption.  Buzzed without relief or inflection, the whiskey sat as an oilslick over his awareness in a single smoldering, peaty note as thin and as fragile as glass.

Hells.  Forget Taro, he'd had to much.

Shaking his head, Kit played keep away with the bottle even as Aki eyed the monk from the shadows, her eyes fixed on the flushed throb of his neck.  It would be easy.  So easy.  Too easy.

" - you're cut off.  Rule is when you start betting your inheritance the bottle goes away.  Technically you probably broke that earlier tonight, but when you start wagering with ME its past time . . ." gently prodding the monk away with the but off the bottle, he stepped back far enough that the step made his insides slosh unpleasantly and he nearly stumbled over the still-sitting form of Sakura, legs curled beneath her on the grass.  She didn't look up as Kit windmilled to keep his balance, instead kept her eyes low, fixed to her phone, thumbing through something Kit couldn't quite see.  He almost cursed - not at her, though given his drink and his temper that restrain surprised him - in surprise, before catching himself.

It was odd, seeing her on her phone.  Despite the lifeline it had provided her art she resisted the terminal online existence that Ava strove for, and to see her searching . . . images flashed under her thumb, to fast to follow, long-limbed specters with glowing eyes, fangs, creepy-pasta horror page after page afer page, tinged with the promise of blood.  

Kit shook his head and she was gone.

Raking fingers through his hair, Kit scowled into dead air for a moment before the scowl went solemn and irritation turned to concentration.

"Ask for the originals."  He says it aloud, surprising himself as he looks to Taro.

"Any recordings.  Get the originals - " shifting from his backfoot, Kit straightened, flicked an impatient hand towards his temple, irritated that it took so long for the thoughts to engage.

" - two reasons.  If this is a mundane thing, you want those images controlled.  Gives us leverage on the criminal without having to take this to the police, which - " he blew out a breath through clenched teeth.  That was a recipe for all manner of horrors, even when horrors weren't involved.  " - would just make things worse.  Absent a perp in hand they'll turn this on the parents, beat a confession out of otosan in the name of public order.  So if this is just a person, we handle it in house and we need the leverage.  And it spares the parents and the kids.  Copies means this can get uploaded into the wild, originals can be locked away or destroyed."

"And if it ain't mundane, if it's your . . . thing - " an inarticulate shrug.  " - horror movie rules.  Risk of contagion.  This shit gets passed around and it could spread to new targets, or call down attention of things you don't want.  Secure.  Contain.  Protect. Got it?  If you get any footage, have 'em scrub the devices and hand over the hard drives or memory cards to me.  I'll keep 'em safe."

 

 

Edited April 18 by Cirlot (see edit history)

[AberrantForm]

Taro listens intently to your instructions, though his head is swaying and eyes are struggling to remain focused. When you finish he stands, lurches to one side, finds balance, lurches the other way, balances again, then resigns to plopping down onto the bench. He chuckles and shakes his head, then slaps his cheeks and blinks rapidly. Determined to stave off the crashing waves of chaos wreaking havoc on his mind, he straightens his back and faces you, feigning control of self. "Yo-your right, of course . . . that's enough dragon *hiccup* for one night . . ." he gestures to the bottle in your hand " . . . too much beast for one evening. Even, even for two *hiccup* two seasoned slayers as we . . ."

"I will start calling the *hiccup* patriarchs in the mor-morning. Ask them to check for . . . footage . . . home se-*hiccup*-curity cameras . . . desk cams . . . stuff of that sort. I should've *hiccup* thought of that . . . before . . ." He starts to nod slowly, then jerks back straight, "Heavens . . . dear heavens I am *hiccup* properly *hiccup* drenched . . ." His eyes strain to focus on you, though you get the feeling he is seeing several Kits at the moment. His gaze flickers from your left and right and finally onto you. "I only drank *hiccup* a couple glasses more than you. Yet you are *hiccup* putting me to shame. So composed. I don't even know if I can stand back up . . ."

His gaze lowers and he stares at the still pond, watching the Koi drift about. "I agree. About the perp, if it's *hiccup* just a person. Better to handle these things our . . . ourselves . . . I won't raise a hand against another *hiccup* person, unless honor demands that I defend another. Even then *hiccup* I could not bring myself to . . . to . . . to kill. Such horrible scenarios are best left to *hiccup* the justice of the streets."

His expression hardens, the glossy drunkenness vanishing for a fleeting moment, replaced with mutual primal terror and righteous fury. Replaced with fire. "But I don't think it's just *hiccup* some person. I know it in my heart . . . no human has *hiccup* eyes like those . . . and the fear I felt . . . wasn't natural . . . the creature sent it . . . sent the fear . . . to chase *hiccup* me away . . . to make me flee . . . instead I STOOD. I STEPPED FORWARD. MY WILL WAS GREATER . . ." His bold words fade, the fire subsides, quenched by the return of the whiskey. He straightens back up and looks at you again, "Secure. Contain. Protect. I *hiccup* got it . . ."

He leans to the side and stretches out on the bench, one leg dangling off, sandal-clad foot limp against the plush grass. His glossy eyes are staring up at the stars now. Your sharpened vision sees the heavens reflected in his watery gaze. One eye starts to droop closed, then the other, now only barely open slits. " . . . ya know what we *hiccup* need, Kit? Some food. Something *hiccup* deep-fried. Why don't ya go *hiccup* grab my wallet. i'll meet ya . . . meet ya . . at the car . . ." and with that, the eyes clamp shut and one hand slides off his belly and hangs alongside the limp leg. Not three seconds later, Taro's snores meld into the garden ambience.

Mere moments of silence pass, then Aki is right beside you, looking down at the monk. "Couldn't ask for an easier meal. Do it. Your doing him a favor, after all. Least you can do is get something out of it. Go on."

Sakura on the other hand, says "He's already drank enough. A sip from that monk will have him stumbling all over the place. If there is something hunting this neighborhood, the last thing he needs is-"

Aki snarls, a beastial and feral abruption. She is actually looking at Sakura, "The FIRST thing he needs, is to accept his new role in the food chain. There is always something hunting, everywhere in this metropolis, all the time, every night." She moves with speed you've never imagined, closing the ten foot gap in the blink of an eye, crouched in a predator's hunch over the snoring monk. "It used to be me. I was the thing that went bump in the night. Except . . ." she runs a clawed finger across Taro's neck, her fangs elongating, quivering an inch above his throat, " . . . I never bumped. They would never hear me coming." Her gaze shifts to you. "If there is another hunter in this area, and I'm sure there IS, you need to be ready. Ready to fight. To do that, you need to feed, EVERY opportunity you get. Sentimentality will not fuel your powers . . . " She looks at Taro, then back to you, unexpectedly.

Sakura doesn't look up from her phone screen, just merely says "Easy prey won't develop your hunting skills. You won't always have willing vessels and passed-out monks to rely on. You have a few hours until dawn. You can make better use of them if you aren't half-wasted."

Aki starts to say "He mu-" then stops, staring past both of you. Staring at the entrance to the Shrine building. Sakura cranes her neck to look as well. Then you turn to look.

Rin, beautiful and glowing, silhouetted by the candlelight within the Shrine. But also, monstrous and shadowed, a pale red gleam in her gaze. Without looking, you know that Aki and Sakura are gone. The night breeze has gone still. Hell, even the Koi have stopped swishing around. Rin's expression is neither warm nor cold, friendly nor hostile. She regards you with neutrality, as if she has cleared her own mind of emotion or preconceptions. With a fling of her sash, she walks toward you, stopping just feet away.

"In our society, that is to say, Kindred Society; it traditionally falls upon a Sire to teach their Childe our ways. How to hunt responsibaly. How to conduct yourself amoung Kindred and Kine. How to use the Gifts of the Blood. How to use the powers of our Clan." She gestures for you to follow, and leads you to the other side of the pond, away from Taro's snores. She seats herself on a bench and gestures for you to sit on the bench across from her. "Although you devoured me during the thralldom of your newborn hunger; I am still your Sire, and you are still my Childe. I WILL teach you our ways, as my Sire taught me, and hers before. You are apart of a legacy, Kit. I did not choose you at random, or on a whim. The others . . . the failed attempts . . . were to make sure I got it right when it counted. Got YOU right. I believe I succeeded, despite the unfortunate fate that awaited me. Yet, the nature of our clan has gifted us a rare opportunity, perhaps even a unique one. I reside still within you. I can still teach you, as I would have done. I can guide you through this new life. Do you accept my offer?

 

[Cirlot]

---

Kit Lee-Shen Wei - Konoru Shrine [Night 1 12.23.18]

---

"Are you actually asking?"  it's almost a snarl, a venomous curl to the words as he studies her.  Aki and Sakura may be gone but he feels them, pressing behind him, on him.  Warring demands as Taro snores away.  He can think of a dozen reasons why feeding upon him - his friend - is a bad idea, none of them moral, all practical.  Even setting aside the booze, the exposed location, all of it, that he had seen, witnessed something like himself made the risk of exposure too high.  And that was before . . .

Before considering that the monk actually had driven the kindred away.

And yet despite it all, he can think of nothing but the blood.

Kit circles Rin, the bench a fixed point in his awareness like it's the center of the goddamn world and no matter which way he turns she's there and she's there and he's sorry and he's angry and her teeth are in his neck and oh Gods . . .

"Why didn't you tell me?"  He moves in faster than he can think, bracing himself against the bench, arms to either side of her.  Were she here, really here he'd be so close to her neck and . . .  She turns, looking at him, eyes amber mirrors; warm and cool and appraising.

"I'd- " would he have said yes?  Is it easier that it wasn't a choice?

"If I'd known you wouldn't have had to . .  you wouldn't have needed to - " his hands curl into fists, nails leaving long scratches on the bench before he flops down beside her, defeated.  Shameful.

"This isn't normal is it?  You being here?" he frowns, leaning forward onto his knees, not looking at her.  The night air is cool and damp and he can hear the shrine in the dark.  The gentle lap of the pond, the breeze through the Tori and the ripple of the myriad paper talismans.  The soft away of the bell.  Taro's snoring seems so far away yet his heartbeat sharp despite it's shallow, resting ease.   

" . . . where's your body?  I didn't - " Kit shook his head, the question tugging at him wrong, the taste of it wrong in his mouth.  It weighs on his tongue and stills in his throat.  Ashes in his mouth.

"You're full of shit you know. I'm not the special chosen one.  You're an artist, Rin, or you think like one.  We were all drafts, impulse sketches that might or might not have become something.  You had no more control over me being the one here than Sakura does over which of her tags trend online, or Rin on how her career never took off."

"You wanna teach me?  Yeah.  I accept.  I'm here for that.  If only because I miss you.  Godsdammit and fuck you to hell despite it all I miss you and and don't know why.  You didn't even like me very much.  But don't lie to me.  This - " he wrings his hands.

" - this is hard enough without laboring under the delusion that I'm special.  I think you choose me, if I think you had a plan you figured me for, if this is some fucking Karma I get sloppy, I get complacent and I get dead.  I need to hate you a little.  I need - "  he looked up, stared off across the pond, across the shine to the twinkling lights and the neon dark of Tokyo beyond.

"I need this to be a mistake.  I can deal with that.  I can deal with being the thing no one wants around but has to deal with anyway.  It's what I am here, after all."

 

[AberrantForm]

Stoic and austere Rin listens to you talk. At first she appears to be hanging onto your every word. Then you realize she in fact scrutinizing you and everything you say with the critical eye of an appraiser. When you look out across the pond, you are aware that Rin continues to stare at you. When you finish there are several moments of silence then, "You don't even know the worst it. The worst of what I did to you and of what is coming your way. I didn't tell you then because . . ." you hear a swish of sash and a rustle of shifting lithe fabrics, and soft steps approaching, " . . . it would have complicated the process. Spoiled the moment. Courted calamity. I had plans for afterwards, to take you to a private location where you could be safely taught and prepared. I had intended on coaching you in the ways of Shuken, The Courts & The Camarilla before introducing you to Kaeyoni society. I won't be able to shelter you now, though. My absence will be noticed quickly and soon, very soon, someone or many someones will start investigating. Ripley already had her eye on me. Boone has always kept tabs on my activities. And there are . . . others . . . who will take an interest."

She is standing right next to you now, joining your vigil over the pond. "Me being here. No, it's not normal. Kindred of our type have our own ways of communicating with each other through a phenomenon of dreams, visions and hallucinations known as The Madness Network. This is not that, not exactly. Maybe a mutation of our clan's already strange gift. Maybe an unintended consequence of your embrace. Whatever it's true nature I regard it as nothing short of destiny. I have produced a unique childe. What proof more do I need that I chose correctly?" She turns and looks at you, "You are special, Kit. The others were sketches. You are the finished work. My masterpiece. Yes, I knew there was a chance that you would not survive the transformation. Such a risk could not be completely mitigated. Yet I BELIEVED you would be the one. I had seen it, in a vision. Such sources are fickle and often double-sided, as this one was. I saw you and me together running the nights of our city. Of course, at the time I didn't realize that I would be sharing those nights from the comfort of your mind, only. There's always a catch."

You feel her hand caress the side of your head. "You will always resent me, a little. I resented my Sire for a decade. And your passion for me will endure as well, until like all children, you outgrow the sentiment. This conflict within, the compulsion to devotion fused with a bitter detestment, is natural. It the bond of my Vitae which you consumed. Normally, when a kindred sires a childe, that childe is bound to the will of the sire. Enthralled, chained, perpetually influenced. This is the Blood Bond. It is a powerful and dangerous force. I will teach you more of this in time . . . " She stops stroking you hair, but her palm remains, softly touching the very spot where she had bitten you. "Let no imagined delusions weigh you down. You ARE special. Not from chance or luck. You were special before, but now . . . now you are MAGNIFICENT. You are going to shake the foundations of Tokyo, I just . . . know it . . . " Her hand slides away and she leaves you at the pond side, retaking her seat on the bench.

"You are not a mistake, but I will not lie; Very few other than me will see it that way. Truth be told; I broke the rules. I wasn't permitted to create a childe. There are many reasons I was forbidden from doing so; I didn't agree with any of them. In kindred society the power of my blood is considered lowly. Too weak to embrace another, who will in turn posses even less potency. Nevermind my many personal achievements and contributions to the Society. Nevermind that my clan is under-represented in Tokyo. Nevermind our countless enemies and our need for fresh forces. Nevermind MY reasons. I was denied permission "for the good of the Kaeyoni". But I saw through the veil of lies and propaganda. They control the embracing because they fear and detest the mere possibility that they will lose grip on the vice they have clamped around the politics of our society. Listen to me. I sound like a fucking Anarch . . ."

"You are right about one thing, Kit. A fledgeling in your position cannot afford to get sloppy or complacent, not ever. As it stands, you have deadly enemies you are not even aware of. Whats more, the kindred who should be your natural allies will at best treat you second-class and at worst try to manipulate you into a compromised position. But not everyone in our society will be such a detriment to you personally. There will be allies. Comrades. Confidantes. Maybe even a friend or two."

"There is time for more questions and answers, but soon we will leave this charming shrine. Your training must begin tonight. Some basics."

[Cirlot]

---

Kit Lee-Shen Wei - Konoru Shrine [Night 1 12.23.18]

---

He should hate her.  He should fear her.  Him.  What he is.  The glimpse of the demimonde she bled, drip by drip, strangeness by strangeness and word by word into his ear.

He should not miss the coolness of her touch.  Or lean into her while she's there.

Kit shudders as Rin pulls away and he fumbles for his anger, clutching at an outrage that was fading, stifled by blood and overshadowed by longing.  He held to it not out of comfort but need, running what hate remained along the edge of his thoughts, sharpening them from shocked dullness.  He cannot mourn and think and he needs to think.  His life - their life, there's an unkind warmth, possessive and glad in the veins at that thought - depends on it.

It takes all the hate he has to walk away from her, leaving her waiting upon the bench as he crosses the length of the shrine to Taro's stupefied, slumbering form. He tries not to study the monk, the defenselessness of him, the regularity of his heartbeat, the churn of blood beneath the skin . . . instead Kit merely leans down and gently, so as to not wake him, rolls him over on his side.

"There.  Hendrix you're not.  At least not tonight.  Ittekimasu, Taro-kun."  Squaring back up he pulled out his phone, trying to ignore Rin's eyes watching him.  Studying him.

If she so much as cleared her throat he's not sure he could remain where he stood.  So he stood, for as long he could.  Swiping through delivery apps he settled on one and then and placed an order from a nearby seven-eleven for an hour from now.  Long enough for Taro to have slept off the worst of it and soon enough that waking would be unpleasant.  Taro would be . . . well, not pissed.  He never was, really.  Bemused was more the monk's thing. But mildly irked, maybe?  At least until he saw the fried "nana" chicken.

Sighing, Kit leant down, snagged the bottle and then surrendered to the gravity of her as his steps turned around and towards his Sire.  He walks slow, but not easy, the bottle a pendulum in his hand and a grounding weight that tugs at his heels.  He waits until he's out of earshot of Taro before he speaks.

"You would have left, in the end, wouldn't you?  The running together in the night - " he shakes his head at his own yearning for it.  " - you were alone.  Before.  And this - these - societies; Ripley, Boone . . . for it all you were alone.  Each of you.  Us.  Because you don't know any other way.  Tigers don't share the mountain."

"I'm sorry you got what you wished for Rin.  In the worst kind of way.  All the nights are our nights now."

Sighing he runs a thumb across his brow, scratches the bridge of his nose as he picks at the scab of his sentimentality.  Not the time.

"So I'm an outcast among outcasts?  After all the years, after all of it, I was - " I was making a life here.  I was about to belong.  But it's a lie and if she won't lie to him he won't lie to her.  Even if it's just to himself.  " - I get it, I did the refugee to riches thing once already.  Different scene, same story.  
It's an angle I can work with.  But if you want a fucking revolutionary, an 'Anarch?' you said . . "

"I ran, Rin.  They came for my family.  They came for my friends.  They were gonna come for me and I ran and I ended up here.  These friends of yours come after me - " the barest shake of his head.  " - I don't think I get to run, do I?"

"Just - I wish - " he trails off, looks down. Pointless; wishing and wanting anything else changed nothing. The here and now was what mattered. Looking back up he meets here eyes and shrugs, matter of fact.

"There needs to be a story.  What happened to you.  Because I'm betting for damn sure if I show up with your blood on my breath I'm in the shit, aren't I?  So you need to just be gone.  Somewhere, somehow.  And if making me is a crime I can use that - you f*cked off rather than face the music."

"So whatever you end up telling me.  Showing me.   We need to balance what I need to know with what I need to be ignorant of.  Pity doesn't pay for shit, the ignorance isn't going to buy me any grace but if I show up and act like a ringer, like I know more than I should this gets turned around on me fast."

"Prioritize essentials, and if you're telling me shit I shouldn't know but need to say so, and keep it to a minimum.  We get through the week, the month, we can backfill but it's easier if I have to lie less."

He falls quiet and waits.  Or doesn't.  He doesn't know when he crosses the grass and sits beside her but he does.

"Am I . . . am I supposed to call you something?  Sire, was it?"  the last of the hate fades, leaving a hollow space where the memory of it was.  And with that, surrender comes and with it the words.  Whispered.  Low.  Sad.

"Rin.  Sire.  Please; teach me."

[AberrantForm]

Her voice is proud and forceful when she says, "Very well, I will teach you. In time, all that I know. You will be the best of me and more. You will surpass me, I have no doubts of that. And just call me Rin."

 

She looks up at the night sky and sighs. "I wasn't always alone. I had MY sire for a time. He was harsh and expected much, yet rewarding and proud when I "got it right". After he met final death I lost the privilege of his guidance and influence. I was handed nothing; I had to claw and grasp for everything, EVERYTHING, I wanted. Those were difficult years. Without the rigorous teachings of your grandsire, I would not have survived them. Since him, I have found comfort from very few mortals and even fewer kindred. Your words were wise. Heed these; Tokyo is great mountain and there are many, many tigers that prowl it. Not just Kindred. There are Kuei-jin, Mutants and beast-folk aplenty. Most of them will not be inclined towards friendship with you; some of them would even try to devour you. Well, devour your vitae, anyway. I will teach you about each of them and others, soon. But not tonight, perhaps."

"I'm glad to see you are being forward thinking already. Yes, we must be careful with what you know. Whoever finds you first will ask very . . . penetrating . . . questions. Ripley in particular will be very hard to fool. Her powers of Auspex are formidable. But she is not of our clan and I believe she will be unable to see or hear me in your memory. But that won't stop her from detecting when you are lying or keeping something unmentioned. Boone on the other hand; he prefers to compel truth by mere proximity. You will feel like you WANT to tell him things you otherwise wouldn't speak of. It's a very annoying gift he has. There is another member of the Society in particular who will undoubtedly interrogate you; Primogen Amos, the head of our clan here in Tokyo. He resides here in Toshima. He is a very old Kindred, powerful and wise, and wields incredible command over the Madness Web. You will find his questions odd, no doubt. But of the three, he has the best chance of discovering the truth of us. Assuming Ripley and Boone don't drag it out of you first."

"Refugee to riches, indeed. Sadly, you will find much of the new terrain familiar. Nationality, religion or ethnicity generally speaking don't weigh for much in Kindred Society. Instead, kindred obsess over matters such as affiliation, allegiance and influence. All three of which you uttlerly lack at this time. And no, I don't WANT you to be a revolutionary. I EXPECT that you will shake things up by your mere existence. I have seen it; your coming will be as a the first drops of rain on a still pond. But not too much, and not too fast. Being labelled as a "change-bringer" is a deathwish in THIS particular society. In other parts of the world, where other kindred societies rule, things are different. But here in Tokyo, things are often rigid. Static, I would say. But there is change coming. The signs are everywhere. This society will get caught up in it, and either it will change willingly or be forced to adapt. Bend or break. But even if it shatters it will not end. From that maelstrom the Kaeyoni will emerge stronger, but no longer the same. No longer stagnant. Even Amos believes this; though, his allegiance and hopes are tied to the Prince. Ah yes, the Prince. Preston Varrick. The leader of Kaeyoni Society and the Camarilla in Japan. Very old, very powerful, very dangerous. I will tell you more about HIM, after we have passed through the crucible of questions."

"And no, you will not get to run. Indeed, there are very few places in the world where the Camarilla could not reach you. You must meet this head-on, prepared and focused."

[Cirlot]

---

Kit Lee-Shen Wei - Konoru Shrine [Night 1 12.23.18]

---

"Hai, Rin."  The lack of honorific, of difference between them curdled on the tongue, not sour but tart, sharp and strange.  But why need it be so.  She was within his own head - or was it the blood? - after all.

But still.  It felt . . .  possessive.  And there was a jealous glee in that fact that surprised Kit.  Shimada Rin, It Girl.  Beacon of sabukaru style.  Patron. Aesthete.  Vampire.  His partner for an immortal life that might last forever.  Or be measured in days.

"Is this - " he flicked a finger from him, to her, then back again.  " - the whole moon eyed 'notice me sempai' bullshit trip I seem to be one, is this how we hunt?  That girl you left me with, the one you ghosted, wouldn't piss down my throat if I was on fire and sure as hell is pissed at you but she'd claw over broken glass for my teeth in her neck.  And she never - " tasted you.  The thought made the still life-flushed flesh of him quicken, redden, the false pulse in his neck tripping upon itself as it peaked at the memory of her taking.  His dying.

Hells, he hoped the blush faded soon - he wasn't looking forward to having to purge the alcohol but so help him the adrenaline and alcohol pin-balling through his veins and nerves was distracting as hell and Rin, close as she was, near as she was, was more so.  SO much more so.

Worse than a goddamn schoolboy.

"I'm guessing we - " he doesn't use Kindred, doesn't want to get familiar with a term he ought not know.  " - don't hunt each other.  Or feed.  You told me, at the hotel, when - " a small gesture with his hands, inarticulate and pained.  Remembering her cold and still inprofile on one side of him, the ghost of her whispering to him from the other.  " - I'd broken a rule.  A big one.  So we don't hunt each other, don't kill each other, at least. Except - " he raises a finger, trailing an exception in the air between them.  " - zaibatsu rules?  If Ripley or Boone or this Primogen decide I've transgressed, it's my ass.  Laws  aren't for those that make them, which they do, right?"

"Which means these interviews of theirs, when they happen, I'll need to keep as much a lid on things as I can."

"Alright, big picture.  We'll talk about the other supernatural shit another day, the . . .  Camarilla, is it, is the primary threat.  Organization.  Thing I have to deal with - " Kit rubbed his forehead, wrinkles already fading as the his skin lost the plasticity of his false, second life.

"Camrilla.  That's not Japanese  . . . one of the romance languages, maybe?  So not local.  Which tracks with Boone.  Ripley.  Amos.  Preston.   But Kaeyoni is.  Or at least pretends to be."

"You're talking factions.  Like Kyoko's Kyokuto-kai versus the Matsuba-kai, or the Yakuza versus the Chinesse Dragons or Complex 2K.  Foreign and domestic factions with families or clans within each.  And within your faction the Prince - Preston - he's the oyabun -" Kit rolls his eyes at Rin's leveling look at her protege " - it's an analogy Rin.  Just trying to get my bearings.  Boone's . . . sherriff.  That's a gajin title.  So second to the Prince? Sounds martial so wakagashira, a lieutenant of some sort.  And you called Amos a Primogen, that sounds . . . prime.  First.  But not prince.  A prince rules things, Amos is just the first of something.  Something that could recognize what you-slash-we are. First of your house?"

"Sorry, was just going on about ignorance being a virtue here and I keep speculating."

"So, immediate problems.  Rumor has it I need to avoid sunrise so that clock is ticking.  And you want me to hunt, apparently.  That - " he shakes his head.  Uncertain.  Nervous.

"I nearly killed her.  Your girl.  I felt it, she was so close and tasted so damn good.  It would have been . . ."

"But you didn't.  And there's not a public notice on exsanguinated corpses in the papers.  Corrupt as the media biz is here they couldn't keep that under wraps so that means hunting ain't killing.  So this is what, catch and release?"

Edited Sunday at 07:40 AM by Cirlot (see edit history)