[BSD-RP] Human World: Naruki City

[Shinigami]

He wasn't even into two hours into his work at the restaurant before he cringed his shoulders and dropped a vile of spice onto the floor where it spilled. Kazuki found that odd, picking it up. Tsukune turned down the heat on the meal he was preparing and looked out his kitchen window. Kazuki wondered what he was doing before he felt the chill run up his spine himself. He turned the food off, as people in the restaurant started looking pale, some passing out, others just dropping their food. What startled him most was Haruka, dropping a box of cleaned silverware on the ground, and collapsing.
"Haruka!"
Kazuki dashed out of the kitchen and into the restaurant, and picked up his niece. Tsukune was seeing whatever was affecting people around them. Kazuki could only wonder what He was seeing.
Tsukune was staring at the gates to hell, he'd seen them before. Once, a long, long time ago. Over 20 years ago to be exact. He didn't know what they were, then, and he sure didn't know what they were exactly now. However he could feel the energy, and automatically assume this, was exactly what they were.
As Kazuki went to comfort Haruka who'd passed out, Tsukune pulled his Grandmother's frying pan off the rack above the stove and headed out the door from the restaurant. He patted Kazuki's shoulder.
"It's alright Kaz… keep everyone safe in here… it's one of those.. kind of things again."
Kazuki blinked, and nodded, a little confused but trusted in his friend, who soon bolted out the door.
Tsukune was alone, the winds blowing his long white hair towards the gates, trying very hard to suck him in, and fill his heart with dread. A woman hanging onto a street lamp for dear life caught his attention, mostly because some robed creature was near her. He would text Mikoto.
Hope you're not too busy, but it seems your wish for action has come true, better come soon, i have no idea what this person...thing is.
He would then take a picture of this creature going for this woman, and send the address to Mikoto, before putting his phone away.
He gulped, Of course he was afraid. He had no clue how to even deal with something like this… it felt like meeting Blume again for the first time. She nearly killed him! No telling what this thing would do. Show no fear, No Mercy. He had to protect the people he loved. Kazuki and Haruka in his mind his heart became clear, and his Frying pan enlarged, flames coming from the top of his head and from the center of the pan.
He'd try a bringer light step first as this creature activated his chains, using the iron pot as a shield to protect the woman, then with his other arm pick her up before pushing her into a store where other people caught her and ran inside. Tsukune stood between them and this creature now, who's chains were now on his frying pan. The pan would turn red from the extreme heat coming off of it as Tsukune's Reiatsu raised higher, burning around him, and raising the temperatures in the area. He'd use the heat to make the chains brittle, and snap them.
Once through those, he'd rear his pan back and center his power into the center of the pan as much as he could before swinging it like a bat. It had enough force to send the creature flying back into that gate, if it hit dead on.
"Get outta here!"

 

[Shinigami]

Listen
“Thank you for your swift response, kid. I will be sure to thank your captain as well, as you being in the city was a godsend for me."
Someone was quite obviously in a rush, the massive tower of a man swiftly passing through the personal senkaimon awarded to Kuro’s post. His eyes remain closed, hardly concerned with the words of the traveler but he’d still take heed of his urgency. As the sliding doors of the senkaimon closed, encapsulating the blinding light of the passageway inside—kuro turned back to face the interior of his dojo, rudely interrupted by the dire circumstances of needing to help the Shinigami on the run. There was little time to question the meaning of it all, what stars were aligning far beyond his comprehension? He was just here to do his job, and hopefully do it well.
He grasps the handle of his zanpakuto tightly, vaguely recalling the riddle of words that Kaitomoshi spews on countless occasions. He re-enters the dojo, taking his place back onto the cold floor. Folding his legs atop each other, locking the back of his heel in the crevice of his bent knee. He intends to focus, closing his eyes, allowing the entirety of the world around him to fade into a distant nothingness. His breathing is slowed, balanced, every exhale analogous in magnitude to its exhale counterpart. Pale fingers gently dance against the auburn cloth binding of his tarnished weapon, deprived of the bountiful well of reishi that is Soul Society. Fire crackling through a bed of wood invades his earways once more, vacant wails echoing as if close, yet at an unreachable distance.
Slowly his left eye peaks from beneath his lids, the right following suit in the shortest of moments. A charcoal-colored finger dances along his personal space, as if teasing—taunting.
“Look who’s back! Ahaha! You couldn’t resist me? The heat? What is it that truly makes you visit? Hm? Hm? Little.. Little Kuro. . .”
He had no company at the dojo, nor was it under attack by an uncontrollable pyre. His meditative pose was oddly placed amidst the chaos that was his inner world. The oriental-style inn collapsing around him, this entire world descending into disarray. Hearing the words of his torturer, he also would fully enter his scope of vision. No stranger to his appearance, the flowing flame-like head of hair and burning embers for eyes made him distinguishable enough.

“Aww.. what’s wrong..? You don’t like being here with me? You’re going to hurt my feelings… Ahahaha! As if you could!”
The childish spirit boasts; he pretends to pout, just before his outburst of laughter. He skips along the collapsing room and dances along the fire, truly in his happy place.
“Is there a reason you act like this?”
“Is there a reason you act like that?”
Kuro unleashes a monstrous sigh, the light of the flames surrounding him casting an amber veil over his skin and hair. In the deepest blue of his eyes you can see the flicker of flame, swaying as a reflection.
“I tire of your games.. your riddles.”
“I tire of your boring attitude! Why don’t you like me?! Why don’t you like to see things burn?”
“A single cinder lights the way—
A few can cause the flames to sway—
One flame burns and coils high—
If more flames burn then all will die!”
Kuro’s lip curls upward in confusion, annoyance, nearly every possible negative emotion one could feel. Out of all the zanpakuto’ in the world this was the one he had to deal with. The cryptic messages and stupid riddles made his head hurt, slowly forming a pit of resentment for the weapon he’d forged a bond with. Perhaps the fault was his own; spending more time attempting to understand the spirit rather than berating him for his.. unorthodox mannerisms would be beneficial. Another sigh escapes, realizing that he must truly somewhat give in to Kaitomoshi’s antics, and entertain his games.
“Let me guess… you want to see more fire?”
“Yes! Yes! Exactly! Well.. kinda.. sort of?”
“One flame is strong, can light a whooooole forest on fire all by itself.. eventually.. It takes time, I’m impatient! More flames burn a forest much faster. See?”
Throughout the entire brief monologue Kaitomoshi used an assortment of hand gestures, imitating fire in a variety of movements to attempt to get his point across, if only he could communicate normally.
“Hmm.. ”Just what did it all mean? Kuro reflected, pondered, just before his concentration was broken once more. His inner world is swept away into a cloud of smoke, and then a void of nothingness, just before the candlelight of the Dojo makes its appearance to welcome Kuro back from his journey. Confusion washes over him, what was once day is now night—what was once light is now dark. What felt like mere minutes had been.. hours? The moonlight peers through the windows, and for a single moment its rays are cast’ in a crimson light. Concurrently a wave of reiatsu so fierce, so sinister, washes over Kuro with insurmountable force. His teeth grind against each other against his own will, and he is momentarily condemned to his position on the floor.
“Wha- What The- !! ”
Finally achieving the strength to stand—and walk— he grasps his zanpakuto and rushes to the dojo’s entrance. Every footstep is heavy and urgent, and when he reaches the entrance and parts the door there is only one word to describe his expression: Terrified. His jaw nearly touches the floor, his breaths heavy and exasperated. Dark circles build around his eyes as he truly experiences despair. In the distance the gates of hell call out to him, belittle him, welcome him. He slowly reaches into his pocket, retrieving his Denreishinki X to press a single button on its screen. This button sent an urgent message to a single person’s device. Shizuka Hyouzoku. Kuro was prideful about asking for help but was also, no fool. Shizuka would receive no other than a code red alert, notifying him that there was an imminent threat that far outclassed something they’d faced before. There was no details included, as Kuro had none to share. Still, he didn’t doubt that it’d take time for the proper troops to be gathered to assist, so he decided to send the message earlier to be safe.
The gates were undoubtedly in the direction of the Chobara District, precisely where Yami had come from. Had he.. lead this threat here? There was little time to waste, one singular soul able to be identified amongst the Hellbound reiryoku that now flourished throughout Naruki City. It was monstrous in every form of the word, yet Kuro could not stand idle while his allies were mustered. The presence of another his felt, some familiarity to its signature. Perhaps one of those who “helped” restrain the bount just months ago. Kuro’s geta clacked against the pathway down the small mountain and into the city, hoping to arrive before anyone was hurt, or worse.. swallowed by the very doors of hell. He was also hopeful that his message to Shizuka was received with haste, and that he would inform the Captain as well as coordinate any necessary actions needed to take down this dangerous foe.

 

[Shinigami]

Typing away at his phone, the luminescent blue screen flashed across his hooded face as he took a stroll down a low populated street of the Chobara District. He’d just gotten out from one of his recent shoots, and instead of going straight home, the young model decided to take a break and bask in the gentle breezes of the night. Sukoshi Ōkoku was free for the first time in the longest. His schedule was often filled up with meet-and-greets, photoshoots, and other assorted public showings. At only sixteen years old, Sukoshi was more successful than most of his peers his age, and even those much older. He was well off, and so long as he stayed out of trouble, he would continue to do fine. Adjusting the straps of his backpack that hung low on his back, the sound of his footsteps clicked across the cement.
“Geez, these girls are weird…”
He shut off his screen and stuffed his phone in his pocket, her face contorted in distaste at the flurry of comments that his fans would leave under his pictures. He knew that they would be a bit extreme, but many of these comments were often explicit and could never be read in public. Soon enough, he came to a stop, halting just at the entrance of an alleyway towards his right, that stretched across a few meters and exposed the street on the other side.
The wind had stopped…
And then it roared, the violent burst pushing a car in view towards the alley and causing its alarm to go off. Several more go off, and he winced at the screeching sound of the tires against the asphalt. And deafening those, Sukoshi dropped down and covered his ears, gritting his teeth as the wails of the damned howled throughout the streets of Chobara. Illuminated red, the light of Hell spread far and wide, hitting Sukoshi even. And just as the winds blew against him, they began to pull him towards its origin, and Sukoshi had to dig into the ground and steady himself, extending his arms out and they grasped the edge of the building, he kept himself from getting dragged any further, but failed to keep hold and slammed into the car. It was the only thing keeping him from flying into the gates of Hell. He was heavily overwhelmed, and keeping focus was rather difficult. These phenomena were absurd, and Sukoshi knew that he should just run away and go back home. This anomaly was nothing that he could deal with alone, and just as he was planning his escape in the opposite direction, he heard the clanking of chains.
“It's crazy. Whoever -- no -- whatever that thing is is fucking insane.”
Sukoshi mutters beneath his breath and stares at the ground as he pulls himself into a steadier position on his ass, and his chest pressed against the door of the car. Breathing hard… he let himself peek through the windows and watch as this creature of Hell began its trek towards a woman that was hanging on for dear life to a parking meter. They were well over twenty meters away, but he could feel the fear that exuded off the woman based on her expressions alone.
“Run away, Sukoshi. Run away, and don’t look back. There’ll be someone else that will save her. Don't die trying to be a hero.”
Even against his words, Sukoshi finds himself reaching behind him, his hands resting within the confines of his backpack, aglow with a dull blue light. He releases a breath, once… twice and pulls out a small disk, two pistols, and a pair of goggles, solid black and sleek in design. On his third breath, Sukoshi, after putting on the goggles set the disk down by his foot, lifted himself into a standing position, guns pointed and ready at the Togabito as he shielded the majority of his body behind the car. Using the goggles, Sukoshi locked onto the being and found someone else with a… Was that a frying pan?
“Honestly, this day just gets weirder and weirder.”
Seeing as the white-haired fry-cook was intent on saving that girl, Sukoshi was back on the Togabito and fired off six rounds with the pistol in his left hand towards its mask, small, spherical, and unlike a normal bullet as the pan-wielding human blocked these ominous chains and wrenched the woman away to safety. Upon contact, these would explode and set off a flurry of liquid substances of a variety of colors that would cover it from head-to-toe and spread across a hundred feet in all directions and powerful enough to snap heads back and break the skin. These personalized paint bombs would at least deter the being from advancing but may hinder the fry-cook. If he could at least save some person, he could call it a day and get a good night’s rest as if this never happened. Still at the ready to release more rounds, Sukoshi hissed softly, knowing full and well that he would be unable to leave any time soon.
“Fuck.”

 

[Shinigami]

After spending what felt like hours, no, days. In front of this Artificial intelligence, Avillio was a bit more learned than when he first entered this building. It was interesting, all the information on this computer, the information he had access too anyway. Mikoto allowed Avillio to read the information he had on Avillio himself, and a few other mutrals. Probably just to flex his intelligence and be an intimidation factor, something that wouldn't work on Avillio. Avi couldn't access much information on Mikoto himself, a given, also not his goal. However, Avi knew a great deal more about the people of Tokyo and the business around the immediate local. He was also aware of the presence of the others, not only from looking at the monitors around the room, but he could sense them. All going, together and separate, Avillio, was able to feel their spiritual presence.
He sat in this same room, scrolling through screen after screen, as he felt the conflicts brew. A city in some sort of multi-racial fair, that he planned to avoid. Yet unavoidable, would be the confrontation of the other races it would seem. As a small red light, along with a new spiritual signature were picked up on the monitor nearest too him. He looked over at the holographic display in the center of the room and muttered. " What is it Emiko, Tell me dammit...." Avillio growled. The computer spun almost as if too look at Avillio before slowly stating; " Shinigami have been present in the Chobara District, it looks like Tsukune has started to engage the Anomaly." The end of her speech made Avi chuckle, and stand from his seat. He would walk over to a fridge and grab an energy drink. Cracking it open he would start to slam it while walking across the room. ' Someone else has just arrived as well, i can feel their spiritual pressure' He thought with the last big gulp, finishing the drink. Tossing the tin can into a recycle bin, Avillio would reach and grab his coat before looking over to Emiko. " Where's the roof exit"
After taking the elevator to the roof, Avi would exit and pull his arms through the coat. Finally reaching into the front left pocket and pulling out a pack of smokes. Taking a single out and biting it, he would walk over to the edge of the massive building. Feeling out over Naruki City, Avillio felt the energies of several people. An accumulation of Tsukune and a stranger along with the presence of something foul. ' Our third wheel doesn't seem like a shinigami, it stinks like shit.' He would close his eyes and grit down on the filter of the cigarette between his teeth. Pulling out the two toy guns from their holsters, they would spark with emerald green lightning and turn into his Armament. " Look's like i'm done sitting on my ass "
A surge, both metaphorical and literal. Avillio's body suddenly exploded with reiatsu in the form of neon green lightning, rapidly dancing over his body. To the point where a light emitted from the top of Mikoto's Complex like a beacon of light. Locking onto the stranger's Reiatsu signature, Avillio would suddenly sense the reality of his immediate view to pull and close, drawing him closer and closer to the new Full Bringer and Tsukune. His body charging with each grip of space, what would take an average Full Bringer multiple steps, he would execute in a single. Chobara District wasn't too far from here, so it was no miracle he was performing, simply being flashy. The sky would emit a emerald strike of lightning along with the cascading sound of thunder.
Like a flash of lightning, an emerald bolt would shatter the asphalt nearest to Tsukune. The lightning giving off a luminescence that made the entire street rival the red glow of hell with a neon green of his own. Crackling and echoing down the road, it would silence anything else but for a second. The electricity tracing the silhouette of Avillio, He would draw from the unlit cigarette as a spark of green electricity would bounce from his hand to the end of the cigarette and back down into the ground.
" What's up... "
Would all he would say before setting his closed eye open, and gaze upon the being from hell.

 

[Shinigami]

The monstrous figure could almost hear it, the endless wailing of the woman before him—the eternity she would spend enveloped in an unruly purgatory. Beneath the mask he slides his tongue seductively over his bottom, then top row of teeth, allowing it to then escape to lick his lips and the interior of the mask. Perhaps he could taste the succulence of the living air; air ripe with souls, air lost to him for a time unknown. The chains escaped his left hand on path to banish the woman to a torturous form of existence, the true epitome of insanity; her torment would repeat itself day, after day, with no change. Had she not been saved, that is. A white-haired man appears quickly to her aid, the remnant of green bolts dancing along the cook’s body. As the chains are intercepted, they grow fond of the item they touch. In a single, indiscernible moment they wrap, and lock, just as they would have onto the woman. They do not stop—however—as they continue to encroach, twining first the pan, and then the wielders arm with an unshakeable tightness from wrist to shoulder. As the chains began to heat up—chains forged in the very pits of hell—the creature could only release a ghastly chuckle that was muffled under the mask’s material.
“How pitiful… Ahemph.”
An internal whisper to himself, nothing more. In truth it was an exhale of disappointment, an insult at the shameful display of ignorance by the savior of the woman. It was less a heroic act, more a sacrifice. Like the mightiest lash of a whip, the creature’s left arm is reared backward with chain still attached. In a single snapping motion, his elbow is locked at a strong 120 degree angle and then snapped outward with devastating force. With it, Tsukune’s shoulder would also, snap, the chains tightening around the pan and arm until a crunch was heard, loud enough to drown out the wails of the damned. The Humerus, Ulna, and Carpus breaking in several places as the arm, wrist, and hand all begin to bled internally. The pain itself would force a scream of excruciating pain from the frail fry-cook, who was now at the whim of the chains’ wielder. With the vacuum of Hell’s Gates still at large the creature need only facilitate a single pull of the chains to lift Tsukune off his feet, at which the entropic pull of the infernal abyss pulls him directly into the monster’s hands. As he flies toward him Tsukune’s body begins to roll, the chains continuing to wrap from the arm now to cover the entirety of his body from ankle to neck. The robed figure’s left hand is extended to his side prepared to catch; the same hand which the chain that made up Tsukune’s casket was shackled to. He held him now, lifted from the ground and held by a knot in the chains as blood dripped down the cook’s leg. Perhaps he’d wished he got to prepare one last meal. Regardless of Tsukune’s consciousness, he was unable to move, unable to break his bonds from the chains that held him so tightly. His life was dangling in the balance. All the creature had to do was simply… let go, and the gaping maws of hell would swallow him whole.
Concurrently it had seemed that even more company was about; oh, how many have gathered at jaws of hell? Now behind him crept another—a human—bolstering a small well of spiritual energy within him but nothing remotely significant. His presence shouldered the same burden of insignificance, hardly a threat but perhaps entertaining. Strokes of vibrant neon green dance against the crimson of hell as a storm of reiatsu crashes down with a deafening thunderclap. Another. How ironic that there was a trinity before him, a trinity to be defeated by an inhabitant of hell. There is little time spent analyzing the appearance of those before him, their locations locked into his mind due to the bountiful reiryoku they harbored. One, some twenty meters or so behind him to his southeast. Another, appearing in a flashy manner about fifty feet in front of him doing nothing but coddling a cigarette. And the last of them, in his very grasp.
“Which of you would like to join this.. thing? Ahemph. . .”
As he speaks his voice somewhat contorts, its base deepening as it sounds painful to conjure. Its as if a dormant demon is clawing its way up his esophagus to manifest the words. The sound alone is bone-chilling, completely and utterly grotesque. Mid-speech, hardly warranting interruption, Tsukune’s body along with the body of the creature is momentarily shifted to intercept the hail of bullets from the assailant cowering behind a vehicle. Pellets of paint bombard against Tsukune, who’d now been used as a shield, The robed figure’s stature returning to its previous orientation before even completing his sentence. He flaunted the frail body of their assumed comrade before them, perhaps as an example, perhaps as something else. It would be difficult to attack an enemy who has the life of a comrade in their hands, quite literally. Perhaps he was a fan of bait and hook, cat and mouse, toying with the more fortunate souls of this plane before welcoming them to his.