the smallest coffins are the heaviest
(continued from here)
composing-angel:
Japan was a land ruled by spirits, even if its residents didn’t know it. The dead walked among them frequently, sometimes desperate to interact with the world and just unable…and sometimes swarmed by fans who didn’t realize that the dead walked.
Rumors had been going around though, about the string of murders going on, and the local grim reapers weren’t too happy about it. Mostly because it meant more work for them, and a hazard. It wasn’t there fault the girl had lost the game, but she apparently refused to take it lying down.
Joshua Kiryu stood over a victim near Shibuya Station. A large crowd surrounded the sliced corpse in a large circle. The victim, a young boy in a red hoodie, had once upon a time been a player in a game of life or death. He won his chance at life….but now someone else had stolen it away.
Joshua frowned. This was unacceptable.
It had taken some navigating, and a few wrong turns, but Dean had found the train station the Teke Teke was supposedly haunting. As soon as he walked in, he could sense something unusual about the din of the crowd, a tension and unease settling in the air - something had obviously transpired - so the hunter weaved his way through the throngs of people to get a look. At their center was another body, pretty grisly even for Dean: a young boy, looked to be about in his teens, whose body was in two pieces. The dismemberment appeared surprisingly clean, cuts not jagged as they likely would have been if made by a human hand.
This was going to be a challenge for him, as he had no real access to the law enforcement here. Pretending to be FBI would get him nowhere, so it was going to require some subterfuge and sheer luck to get the kind of information he needed. Fortunately for him, some basic hacking skills had also made their way into his repertoire of tricks, so he was at least a step ahead there.
As he stood poised just at the edge of the crowd (close enough to really see but not so close as to draw unwanted attention), Dean committed as much of the scene as he was able to memory before he inconspicuously snapped a couple pictures with his phone. Brow furrowed and green eyes squinted beneath long lashes as he tried to notice anything out of the ordinary - his kind of out of the ordinary. Slowly, he felt a dull throb start in his temples, pushing its way through his skull. However, he merely chalked it up to the plane ride (which he was still attempting to block out of his memory) and jet lag, rubbing a tired hand across his brow.
