#dcnycku

nemesis: n. the inescapable agent of someone's or something's downfall.

              ❝   ——  JUST  MAKES  ME  WONDER      if  you  were  ever  going  to  say  anything  about  it .   i  mean ,  with  a  city  this  big ,   i  guess  some  of  those  rumors  have  to  be  true . ❞     surprise  doesn’t  tangle  with  his  identity ,  not  entirely .  rather  how  long  he’s   fooled   them  all ,  kept  them  in  the  center  of  his  palm .       even  after  death .

                                                                                                                  ❝  right  ...   kunikazu  ?  ❞

Appetizing. The only thing he could think of looking at the meat sausages sizzling on their rollers behind the glass hot case. But he had no funds to purchase them and Chise had told him to stay put in this convince store till she got back. 

the city-scape is as industrial as it is a complex and shallow bowl of oddities & varied unusual behaviours. where there are certainly odder folk, there are also grey shaded buildings to balance it out, where they are brightly coloured decor & lighting, there is always a dull businessman to rival it. perhaps the city itself could be split into two defining characteristics ; that which makes a city unique & then that which merely plays into the general trope of a typical and otherwise plain place to be.

in the beating heart, grey fumes and clouds mill about, inches from the ground, as if to swallow the greenery of the shrubs and pavement-side allotments out of sight, rendering it all to the drab same shade of charcoal as the rest of the first sector. he’d already heard of an even worse place, toxic waste a river-like common thread weaving about the second sector, alas he was well-set upon his goal of information seeking, over merely satisfying a wicked curiosity for all things deadly. 

note to self: there is an endless supply of poison unattended & unwanted. 

he lingers at the stony wall of a banking building, having scoured the streets for something more concrete than mere hunches ( he was trapped, of course, he had money but not a lot, he had no weapon and no allies. no clothes but the ones upon his back, no communicator & absolutely no idea what to do ). a bank at least was easy enough to locate. lingering there, he found the throbs of one impatient headache pressing at the skin of his temple. it was with perhaps the most irritated of voices with which he finally spoke, drawing attention to himself with a firm question, without so much as a greeting before the words pass his lips.

“ light? “ 

Thanks to Haru’s stubborn spirit, the Phantom Thieves busted through Okumura’s palace within days of finding it. They knew waiting for the change of heart might be agonizing, but at least they could rest easy knowing the job was done. 

As they expected, according to Haru, just like Madarame, Okumura was quiet after they completed the palace. Sometimes Akira wondered if their heart had already made the flip, but it took and even to trigger the mind to get on board. Prodding Morgana hadn’t gotten him anywhere on the matter, so he’d decided to give up on it. 

Considering past experience, he assumed the man would recluse himself as well- it’s not like his home couldn’t provide everything he needed to keep solitude for a few weeks.

Akira, however, was proved wrong, spotting Okumura on a bench at Inokashira Park. Finding himself with a rare day off, he’d decided to go alone, simply taking a walk before getting to sleep early- it was a welcome change of pace. Seeing Okumura, however.... the man was undoubtedly out of place. The evening light was too soft- he was lacking the vitriol and spunk of the shadow they’d met. Of course, Akira knew well enough that he and his shadow were different but quiet and contemplative almost looked wrong on his features.