#foolofdeath

The finely clothed man’s strides through the street were unopposed, the residents giving him a wide berth as he walked. A ravenous aura seemed to surround him wherever he went, and most would simply quail in fear of him for it. It was only those few who could stand their ground in his presence that gained even a fragment of his attention. So when a boy of peculiar look and standardized attire managed to simply walk past him, he was alerted immediately.

And slightly put off.

Really? This boy was worth his weight? He certainly didn’t look like much. Then again, he had long learned to avoid taking fighters at appearance alone. The more he focused on this boy, the evident it was that he was someone worth acknowledging, a latent power that gave him more than what the eye could see. Something that Kazuya could understand all too well. 

With a look over his shoulder, he called out to the other, a bark of command underline with a cautious curiosity.

“You there. Boy. A word.”

She reaches up to pull one of her earphones off, it lays limp on her shoulder and her ears are still ringing from the shrill pop music once playing through her head. 

“There’s this urban legend you know--” They’re the only two people in the music store. She doesn’t even use CDs herself anymore, but she likes flipping through the album covers and becoming familiar with the tangible embodiments of works she’s usually only ever owned digitally. 

“They say if you ever come face to face with your doppleganger you’ll die.”

“The funny thing about the story is that they never say if it’s the original or copy that dies, just that one of you will. So, does that mean there’s no original?” 

She’s standing in front of alternative rock, she has to lean on her toes to be able to see over the shelf to where he stands opposite her. It’s all familiar and unsettling all at once. 

Welcome to the war Minato!

Your Servant will be Hazama.

Enjoy your stay and don’t let yourself hit you on the way out