randomtengureporter‌:

asknueidentified‌:

“I actually run the Tengu press.”

“Not even remotely believable.”

He hopes.

3 years later.

“Totally worth it.”

It would begin with a door slamming OPEN with the violence of a maelstrom capsizing an entire mountain. A drunken, half-beaten maelstrom, advancing with the inexorability of time itself and the dangerous determination of a kappa proctologist.

“Yepruna Ba! An entire batch lost just like that! Should have known better than outsourcing distribution rights to some vaguely suspicious goddess… Or signing a contract while drunk off my feathers. But that usually works out! Sort of! Makai, my head… Lackey! Lackey! El-ACK-hey! Your editor and undiscussed master demands your presence! He is very tired, nauseous and severely lacking in the patience department!”

“A-a-aye sir! I’m here sir! Omega sorry ‘bout wasting your time! I was finishing work on this month’s double spread I—we made about them dancing gals…”

“Scrap it! We’re in trouble deeper than Old Hell. I’m back from negotiations with the deity who sold this month’s batch to the Human Village’s firekeepers. It didn’t work out. I think. Frankly, everything past the fifth bottle is a blur. I woke up one hour ago on top of a torii gate. The Moriya’s torii, not my wife’s. She had a lot of questions and her orbs waiting for me when I came back wearing only my tokin and the poms. I am unsure of how I’m even alive enough to be standing here and tell you to find the blocks of the lost issues and send them to the printers by yesterday.”

“That… sounds like you had one helluva day, sir. But err, the thing is… though I don’t really wanna add onto the pile of problems you got going there, the fact of the matter is that the blocks have already been disposed of. Pretty sure they’re feeding some kappa’s machinery right now.”

“Why, that means you will only have to rewrite and carve the entire thing from scratch and your paltry memory, yes? And without needing your benevolent superior to tell you that the result had better be a flawless copy of the original, lest you be fed to ‘some kappa’s machinery’ too.”

“A-a-a-all of it?! You sonnuva—I mean, what! How! Why?!”

“Well, according to this here handy list I keep for such occasions, it’s because you owe me. Or rather, I own you, since I generously went through the trouble of buying that waste of paper you used to call a newspaper, along with its subscribership, assets and personnel, which means you. Not that this cleared up the mountain of debts upon which you’re still sitting… nor will you, if you don’t get started right now.”

“O-okay, okay, fine! Can’t I just, go find if at least one copy’s been left unscathed? Like, for reference or–”

“Emperor Daichi, esteemed ruler of all that is newsworthy, said NOW, and NOW it’ll be, you blitherin’ personification of Poyren-dot!”

“And lest the sorry byproduct of your wasted hands become a feast for my hungry bill, you will return bringing along fresh basketfuls of the crunchiest bread.”

“Yes, sir… yes, Your Magnificient Highness Gosalyn…”

“AS IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIF!”

Finger gun noises.

“Erdathee, yefallos Juntecho.” Typos from a Yamabushi Tengu?! Unthinkable. “Tengath mella.”

@randomtengureporter

yuukakazami:

Honestly, the dull edge was only on Daichi’s neck because Elly’s scythe had the dull edge on the inside of the blade, rather than the outside like most scythes. If it was a normal blade, he’d definitely be getting a real close shave on the back of his neck. Still, the fact that it was dull was a sign she probably wouldn’t take his head off for keeping up the line of questioning, but props to him for self preservation. It’s almost like he’s learning!

“Oh, I can’t tell you that. And before you ask, it’s not because I don’t want to. Those people don’t have names, or even an existence that someone who isn’t a Yama can perceive anymore. They were erased, in the purest sense of the word.” The emphasis on erased was very much audible. “The Ministry of Right and Wrong tends to have very harsh views on attempting get out of the cycle of reincarnation. It’s generally dealt with very harshly.”

Self preservation? Phooie! We spit on the term! No, Daichi just realized that antagonizing the Shinigami along this particular vein wasn’t going to make her angry enough to speak candidly... It wasn’t the fear of death; it was the fear of not getting to the tasty bits of the story.

Speaking of which...

“Erased?” Awesome how fictional characters can do that, eh? “I’d never heard of the Ministry doing anything like that before!” Shocker. 

“Pursuit of immortality warrants such a harsh treatment? Or was it their methods?! How did they try to escape the reincarnation? If it’s so horrible, why aren’t the Hourai subject to judgment? OH! Or were they trying to interfere with someone else’s reincarnation?”

“Bah! I’m sorry to crush your fantasies kid, but I’m the youngest in my family, so you are stuck with me,” Ritter replied, as on the same moment the waitress came to bring their orders. “Miss, could you leave the coffee pot here? Thank you,” she thanked the waitress and grabbed the cup after the coffee was poured.

Ritter have had a slight headache developing from the lack of caffeine since the wake up at six on the morning, so the first cup of the day was silently blessed in her mind… A sip and she didn’t feel like strangling Daichi over the table anymore and instead, felt like there was sense in the world again. “Besides, if I had a little sister, I wouldn’t send her to play spy in a poker joint with someone like you. That would just be a recipe for a class A catastrophe.” Ritter groaned and took a look of the breakfast plate, which was apparently toasts with an omelet sitting on top of them. It smelled good.

“How about you stop testing my good-natured temper and renown patience, and start playing by the rules; You share, I share and I don’t throw you to the wolves…. So, the names of those girls? Parents? Clients?”

“You wound me, detective.”

The lad sawed into his waffles with a gusto that could only be granted by a couple of days of lean eating. After several mouthfuls of delicious, washed down with some black coffee, he sighed happily.

“Besides,” he followed up with a gamble, “with you keeping all of the pleasant nature, I’d bet your little sister would be a real ball-buster!” That barb delivered, the reporter reached into his vest and withdrew his notepad. A quick couple of flips brought the relevent information to his eyes. “Rodriguez, Susan. Saunder, Tanya. Er... Rouge Kitty. Couldn’t find her real name, but I know her family is local. Kusanagi, Keiko. That’s all I had before talking with you... The only connection I saw was that they all worked at the Golden Ducky.”

Another pause was filled with waffle munching and it wasn’t long before the plate was clean.