ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴋᴋᴜ

@carcharous

“Careful when walking through the rubble. We don’t have tetanus shots here.”

It dawns on her that she really is talking to a mere human – who lacks any preferred weapon or supernatural powers. Of course, of course. Humans usually do not fight the way Servants do. Mages, perhaps – but he is no such human. A young, innocent boy. She has to put it into perspective for him.

“You woke at the big hole too, did you not?” She begins, wondering if maybe he is a native to this city and her assumption is wrong. “When I came to, I had my bow replaced with this thing and…–” No, probably not smart to tell anyone most of her abilities seem to be sealed. “I believe whoever runs this city has taken my means of fighting against them. A child like you probably did not carry any such weapon to begin with.”

   “That would be the one,” in reference to said hole. “Maybe that bow of yours is at the bottom. Maybe that’s where everything went,” he adds as a half-joke, gesturing to the rubble around him. In no way does he suggest she might have to jump down to retrieve her gear, but if that is the way she wishes to take it, he will not be telling her otherwise. Simple his nature.

   “If that really is the way they think, they should have left us in solitary rooms. There’s plenty around to make into a weapon, to scavenge and take advantage of. It’s all a matter of putting your mind to it, right?”

She continued to smile, curious to see what the boy would say next. If he was out and about in the rubble just as she was, then she supposed that he wasn’t as normal as his words might have posed. That was fine, too, she supposed, as that made things all the more interesting.

“Nope. I just got here the other day.” Himiko shrugged. “I have no clue, it’s been like this since I got here.”

“Hey, hey, where do you come from?” Was he from Hive City, too, or somewhere completely different? She was quite curious to find out.

   A newcomer like himself? At least she is not another zombie roaming the streets, the people who barely lifted their heads at the brush of a shoulder or snide remark. If Aoba did not know any better, he might guess everyone in the city to be some kind of programmed AI. Save for this girl, of course.

   “Me? Ikebukuro. I’m just a city boy, so seeing something like an apocalypse is a bit of a shock.”

@carcharous​

“Whoa there…” Shigaraki wanted to stake a claim in terrirtory as soon as he settled down into this city. He was not going to let any of the progress he made in the last one be lost. However, just as he came to inspect one of the worst warehouses as a possible meeting place he found himself ambushed. 

He jumped back and let his eyes flick about, analyzing all of their locations in half a second.  Considering these were just children he could probably make an escape if he really wanted to, but did he want to? Things might be more interesting if he played along with the games. He might have seemed tall and like an adult, but he was still a child who loved games most of all.

Shigaraki raised both of his arms in the air. “No need to get so pushy, I surrender. See I’m holding my hands up, well not all of them but what are you going to do.” He of course referred to the several severed hands gripping his body. “I just wanna talk. You seem like a fun person to talk to. Do you have a name or should I just call you sharkboy? In that case where’s Lavagirl?”

   Just what in the hell...?

   “Is that right? Then let’s talk, sure.” You seem to be doing enough of it right now.

   His small group of rag-tag part-timers disperse, but they keep a close eye on their little intruder and his array of... hands. Where they real? Impossible. But anyone who chooses to look this strange out in public ought to have a good reason for it, besides being mentally disturbed. Which he just might be. Just play it out, nothing’s actually happened yet.

   “It’s Aoba. We’re all just having a little discussion here, if you don’t mind. Passing through? Taking a stroll? If so, I suggest you take yourself elsewhere.” An incredibly vague threat, which is more of a conversation starter for people like him. People who want something, who would start their negotiations from what he proposes. A boy like him is good with ritual like this.

TO: Kuronuma Aoba  FROM: Anastasia Romanova 

One couldn’t, but multiple could. Even if it seems ridiculous to think that so many would hit this place at once. But, if they were forcefully invoked by someone who wished to cause such destruction -  Well, that is just a theory.

           A theory that made more sense than the idea of disasters attacking this place one after the other without any prompting. She was not a scientist, but such events were what they said on the tin - ‘natural’. Destruction on this scale was nothing natural. A magus could have done something like this, but they would have had to be a very powerful one - or perhaps someone or something else entirely was operating behind the shadows. It wasn’t all that pleasant to imagine. 

Not really.  I was in another city, similar to this one, trapped within it much like we are now. And then I wasn’t.  I woke up next to the hole. I’m sure you know what one I’m talking about.

   from:  黒沼 青葉    to: anastasia romanova

   [SMS] And just how would they do that?    [SMS] I know you’re not trying to tell me magic exists.

   Just when it seems he should be giving up on the conversation, as long as this person decided to suggest things along those lines, Aoba tunes into her following messages and decides to keep at it. He has, of course, heard of paranormal phenomenae before. Ikebukuro as a whole was no stranger to everyday excitement like the Black Rider, like the inhumanly strong Shizuo Heiwajima, or the ever-looming urban legend of a mind-controlling sword in the underbelly of the deep web. Aoba’s heard many things indeed, how hard is it to believe in summoning weather?

    “Crows are smart, they recognize faces.”

    Not necessarily a tangent, but not a direct response to his question. Hitagi did see the events unfold, from several feet away where she remained. From this distance she felt comfortable prodding strangers.

    “Youth these days, parents ought to give them a good scolding when they’re out terrorizing wildlife for fun. I mean, that’s why, right?” A hand cupped her cheek in the type of exasperated pose old wives make discussing miserable gossip. “You’ve only been in this city for a few days and you’ve already resorted to animal torture?”

    “Children truly are so scary…”

   “Hey now, that’s awfully rude to say. Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to make baseless accusations?” 

   Annoying, he thought, not one to car for the way other people acted in situations like these. Of course, it is a healthy assumption she gives, yet Aoba figures that even if she is right, it is still a rude thing to do.

   Not like he is not rude in other situations, but the point still stands.

In light of recent news - those being the city-wide broadcast that put a fear for their lives in many -, Noiz doesn’t say anything. Say, or do, and just like Aoba, he continues to mind his business as if he had heard nothing, as if nothing unusual had just started to happen. The boy munches on his fries, only to take another bite of his burger, ignoring the question directed at him (he hasn’t done anything, after all, so it wasn’t something necessary for him to answer), and reluctantly paying attention to his surroundings.

Whether he finds a team or not doesn’t matter. Noiz doesn’t like teaming up (which is somewhat ironic, as he himself had a Rhyme team back in Midorijima), and whether he dies or not doesn’t really matter. If this is how he goes, then so be it.

At least he wouldn’t have to deal with this broken of a city any longer.

“I don’t really care either way,” he voices, uninterested as he would always be. Figures Aoba would likely be worried about the whole thing - it doesn’t seem like him to die such a pathetic death. “Name it whatever. The whole thing just sounds like a bother, so let’s get this over with.”

   “...” A nearly silent sigh departs between them. While there are several advantages to knowing and working with someone so uncaring of most things, Aoba had figured it must come with its own set of disadvantages as well— a sentiment he dwells on between the time of Noiz’s lax statement and his own response to it.

   They seem to have plenty of time to decide; this is not an event which calls for their immediate panic, nor did Aoba want to panic at any point, but the concept of death has not been something he wants to toy with yet. There is too much to do between now and then. No, the feeling he thinks of now is closer to uneasiness. Strangers on strangers relying on each other for something as delicate as their lives.

   Well, Aoba refuses to live his life like them anyway. As far as he is concerned, nothing ties him to the hordes of sheep endlessly bleating and running amok. He decides his own fate, and controls these things as he wants to. It is only fitting he choose the name, inadvertently yet unsurprisingly becoming the leader of his two-man team.

   “Hey, what did you do?”

   The whole of Aoba’s phone screen seems to shut off, blinking momentarily before displaying the speech which broadcasts across the ghost-city. His food lay in front of him, surely getting cold, as he invests his attention to the ruckus of the crowd beneath that floating doll, haunting in her own way, giving true name to their mostly-barren grounds.

    ≪ ... If you don’t wish for your current self to cease existence, it’s something you must do… Or so it says. ≫

   The whole of their makeshift restaurant location goes into a frenzy at that moment, some choosing to run completely, others grasping at their companions. Aoba simply stares down, the broadcast’s music switching to a different song before he is able to make sense of his happenings. So they do this, or they die. 

   The sun is out this time, and Aoba believes he has a chance to take a proper look at this Island he has ended up on. There is not much he did not already figure for himself, like wreckage and abandonment, but at least more people are out than there were in the night; more people for Aoba to judge from a distance, and eavesdrop on. But whether or not he would be able to find anything interesting seems to lean towards not, coming across normality after normality at a downright tiring rate. Am I expecting too much out of this place?

   And then he sees what he has been looking for: someone who grabs for his attention, a young man in what seemed to be a detective’s clothing. Was he.. studying the landscape? Trying to gain an idea of what happened here? Two young men going about the same question in their own ways, it seems, so Aoba closed the distance between them with even pacing. No reason to be overexcited, or overly lax.

She grips the pathetic bow tighter in her hand and her tail rises a little in anger. To be ridiculed by someone with absolutely no magical presence in such a manner… It still feels humiliating, but what can she even do in her sorry state? She kicks a small rock away absent-mindedly and sighs.

“It doesn’t. My arrows would rip you in half. I can give you a demonstration as soon as I have it returned to me, puny human.”

   A prosthetic tail, too? She surely goes far for a convincing character, but a thought creeps into his mind before he actually says that: that she might not be joking, and her characteristics might not be fake either. Leave it to Aoba to dwell on it, wondering if she may be trying something as useless as trying to trick or deceive him. What good did that achieve? What ends would that come to?

     ❝Ah,❞  He pauses for a moment. ❝so you are also fond of trickery and nonsense babbling.❞ Lips tugged upwards creating a smirk that showed absolute  pleasure. The satisfaction of hearing him talk about the wonders of his calling in life, when he knew it was nothing but empty words.

     Friend, he says so nonchalantly, giving it a name to the relationship he held with that man, without him deciding first, without him knowing anything at all.

   Hibari has been contrasted to a wild beast multiple times by countless of people. Not only for his fiery personality and his wild strength but also because until now he hadn’t allowed anyone to tame him or control him even in the slightiest way. Having a stranger imposing the term friend onto him was simply irritating. When it comes to that matter he would always prefer the term allies. A bond in which both sides get use and advantage of each other with a solid purpose.

     ❝Ask him yourself.❞ As always, he would push people away and shut down any form of the start of a conversation. ❝ He’s easy to find, but you should know that already.❞ Or so, someone who insinuates so proudly to have a close relationship with him should. 

   “Nonsense babbling, huh? You know him better than I thought. Maybe you even know him better than me.” Foiled, or so it might seem, at an instant. But Aoba did not have a single-track mind, nor did he give up at the first sign of disappointment. There is a story here beneath the surface of this rather blunt man, and Aoba did not let the polite smile fall from his face just yet.

   “You are coworkers, after all. You said that yourself. Unless that was a lie.”

   Trying to get private information out of this man might prove to be impossible, but that is not necessarily the only way to go about their little conversation. There is much to be learned about the things that are not said, just as much as can be learned from that which is spoken aloud.

   Because I hate you.

The corner of his lips curve higher, sharpening edges. He was sentient to the fact that he was hated. That people disliked him, wanted him gone, dead. But to hear it come from their mouths. Every single time he couldn’t help but to flat-out grin. Hate was a strong emotion, one of the few designed to control a person’s willpower, their impulse, their thoughts, and even their every day lives. When a passion of hate was created for something, it more or less became an obsession, sticking with someone until a relief was met, which usually came to be when a person or object was removed from a position of power. He, personally, compared love and hate to the same plane of existence, his philosophy on the matter being– hate was bred when something admired or loved was changed or challenged. Whether that be yourself, another person, multiple people, or even not a personal at all was the variable applicable to change. 

“Your logic is an interesting concept. It makes me wonder what you think about all day.” He starts with, evening his footing and swaying ever so slightly with it. Even in times like this, his legs and their pain would persist. Though he hadn’t quite been standing for too long, the lack of luxury and comfort in the torn city was enough to leave his lower body feeling fatigued. Sitting on broken brick and rubble wasn’t the most ideal or comfortable. “As for getting a rise out of you? I don’t need to do anything when you’ll do it for me on your own accord. Which leads me to asking; why are you so angry? If you’re so much better than I am, then what’s there to say? Unspoken words that eat away at you during the night?”

 He had a feeling he knew the reason; a comparison and anger that, as said before; the boy wasn’t his own person. With all he had done, and all he would continue to do, someone had been there before him, and that shadow would overcast any accomplishments ever made. Of course, that was just an estimate. He didn’t really know how Aoba felt, as he was no mind reader, only an observant opportunist. All he could do was assume until proven otherwise. 

“Here’s your chance to clear it all up.”

   The words continue flowing, annoyance after annoyance, more and more reason to both frustrate and anger an ever-trying Aoba. Trying, above all else, to get a grip on himself. Izaya made something like that more difficult than it should have been, but surely not impossible.

   “There’s nothing to clear up. No grand reason for any of it.” A lie by which Aoba is able to hold onto his sanity in the presence of someone so maddening. Whatever Izaya wanted to know, he would have to figure out for himself; Aoba would not allow those things to leave his own mouth. “It’s just the way things are, like being stuck in here with you.”

   Aoba would never in his life be able to pin down a person like Izaya, who others accused of being so similar to him that it became the new running joke of his life, a game of seeing how long he could go without hearing it or thinking of what other people had to say. And he tries not to focus too hard on what Izaya has to say either, or rather, his inner machinations of observation and study come to fruition in the form of ridiculous questions. Why are you so angry? Because I am. What’s there to say? Nothing at all. Izaya very clearly has his own games to play, and as much as Aoba thought he was attempting to drag him down into them, he refuses to go along quietly. So he changes the subject instead, no longer willing to talk about anything related to himself with this man.

haha no friend aoba