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[open] one jump ahead of the hitmen
WHO: Yato, a whole lot of hired thugs, and you!
WHERE: all around Recolle
WHEN: late April, sometime after the charity event (April 22)
WHAT: Yato is hounded by thugs of pre-Recolle past. Shady situations, lots of chasing, and a good old-fashioned beatdown ensue.
WARNINGS: Violence. PG-13, tops?
[ Day 1: press O to loot
It happens so fast.
A hand grabs Yato by the collar and drags him off his feet. He hits the floor of a narrow alleyway, the runoff filth of a nearby dumpster clinging to his hands as he pushes himself up. The shape of his aggressor is large -- not very fast, but Yato is soft and confused enough to get caught in the head by the man’s fist.
His vision flashes black. Back down he goes.
A switch flips.
Life or death.
He rolls and scrambles back to his feet. And this time when the fist returns, he’s ready; he pivots, snatches that wrist, and slams the point of his pocket knife into the stranger’s arm.
The man curses and immediately tries to pull the knife out. After that, it’s as elementary as snatching the man by the front of his clothes, lunging with as much might as he can muster, and slamming the man’s head against the corner of the dumpster with an awful thud. The stranger goes limp.
Chest heaving, Yato staggers to his knees to dig through the man’s pockets. A wallet: driver’s license (never heard of him), credit card (no use to Yato), and some petty cash (to go toward buying Yato a drink for the trouble). A phone, password-protected. A picture, computer-printed, of a slightly younger Yato smiling and posing for the camera.
Well. Shit.
Yato should leave, and quicklike. He tosses the wallet back on the man, wipes his knife on the guy’s clothes, and pockets the picture. Boy he sure hopes no one peeks into the alley and happens to see him in the middle of all this. It might look bad.
It might look really, really bad.
Day 2: escape room
More trouble today. One person wasn’t enough for the job, so now it’s a trio. Yato sprints his way through town, fresh irritation on his face as he weaves his way around corners and scrambles over obstacles to escape the small swarm of rough-looking types pursuing him. The trio disperses, doubtless trying to cut off his routes of escape. At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before he’s caught…
He needs to hide.
Maybe you’re just walking along. Maybe you’re in your home or at work. Wherever you are, Yato’s somehow tumbling into your life: around the corner, into that trash can next to you, through your open window, through the front door. Clearly he’s been running for some time, because he’s laboring for breath and awash with sweat. But he dives out of sight, makes eye contact with you, and holds a shaking finger to his lips in the universal gesture of
Shhhhh....…
Because sooner or later, someone else might come along… and you probably don’t want to get caught in Yato’s company.
Day 3: closed to Anya
Anya, I’m not gonna be around for a bit… (;´∀｀)
Just some stuff I need to get sorted out. I’ll still have my phone on me, though.
Don’t party too hard while I’m not looking, wild child! ☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆
Night 4: closed to Yuuko
It’s another day of scuffles and escapes by the skin of his teeth. And if the days aren’t bad enough, the nights are worse. Yato has to sleep sooner or later, and his pursuers know it. He sees movement that isn’t there, every noise to break the stillness a threat. The best he can do is squirrel himself away and hope they aren’t looking. But it always seems like they’re looking.
The stress is catching up to him. He hasn’t been eating or sleeping well. The scrapes and bruises are starting to accumulate in a bad way. He is so very tired.
But there are some things he can’t forget to do. Yato retrieves a hidden roll of bandages from a tree knot on the outskirts of Hollingberry Field. He sits, melting his silhouette with the cradle of the tree’s roots, and begins to redress his wounds. The worst is a long cut to his hand -- blessedly, his offhand. He unwinds the old, stained bandages and rewraps the wound firmly, the better to retain some use when he’ll need it. But he can’t quite finish tying it off with only one hand; he tries to use his teeth, but his coordination is all wrong and he growls in frustration before giving up and thunking the back of his head against the tree.
Something must change. He always ran before, but no longer. He won’t be chased from this town… No more……
He rests his eyes.
And just like that, he falls asleep.
Day 5: the solution
A baseball bat.
Yato is far from dressed for a ball game. He looks positively wild in his dusty tracksuit, unwashed and gray and ringed at head and hands with bandages. But underneath all that unfiltered street hobo is a serious hobo, and despite the posse of thugs outnumbering him, he’s ready to stop running and start venting.
A war god? What a joke. No one needs a modern day Thor or Ares or Shiva. Fighting only causes problems. Fighting is a critical failure of maturity. And as Yato hits a smashing home run with the first thug’s arm, he thinks it’s only just that a would-be god of war teaches them this lesson.
His mind isn’t really all there.
But his body is. It aches and throbs, but his body knows what it’s doing. It wields the baseball bat like it’s an instrument far greater, dancing like it has an edge. Of course, there is no edge -- and so it doesn’t feel quite right. But he can sink into this feeling, a rhythm of yielding flesh and fleeting footwork. He can lose himself in this feeling.
-- That is, until one of the thugs manages to flank him and smash him in the head with a metal pipe. Talk about embarrassing. Yato loses his grip on the baseball bat as he stumbles. Half the group of thugs is down, but the remaining half is more than enough to overpower a vulnerable Yato. They descend upon him with a vengeance, punching and kicking and jeering until he disappears beneath their feet.
He could probably use a little help here…
Day x: wildcard
((I’m dtp -- down to plot! Check out my plotting comment or hit me up at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
chipsnfish. Also feel free to reply with commentspam if you like, I just didn't want to tinytext this whole hot mess lmao)) ]
WHERE: all around Recolle
WHEN: late April, sometime after the charity event (April 22)
WHAT: Yato is hounded by thugs of pre-Recolle past. Shady situations, lots of chasing, and a good old-fashioned beatdown ensue.
WARNINGS: Violence. PG-13, tops?
[ Day 1: press O to loot
It happens so fast.
A hand grabs Yato by the collar and drags him off his feet. He hits the floor of a narrow alleyway, the runoff filth of a nearby dumpster clinging to his hands as he pushes himself up. The shape of his aggressor is large -- not very fast, but Yato is soft and confused enough to get caught in the head by the man’s fist.
His vision flashes black. Back down he goes.
A switch flips.
Life or death.
He rolls and scrambles back to his feet. And this time when the fist returns, he’s ready; he pivots, snatches that wrist, and slams the point of his pocket knife into the stranger’s arm.
The man curses and immediately tries to pull the knife out. After that, it’s as elementary as snatching the man by the front of his clothes, lunging with as much might as he can muster, and slamming the man’s head against the corner of the dumpster with an awful thud. The stranger goes limp.
Chest heaving, Yato staggers to his knees to dig through the man’s pockets. A wallet: driver’s license (never heard of him), credit card (no use to Yato), and some petty cash (to go toward buying Yato a drink for the trouble). A phone, password-protected. A picture, computer-printed, of a slightly younger Yato smiling and posing for the camera.
Well. Shit.
Yato should leave, and quicklike. He tosses the wallet back on the man, wipes his knife on the guy’s clothes, and pockets the picture. Boy he sure hopes no one peeks into the alley and happens to see him in the middle of all this. It might look bad.
It might look really, really bad.
Day 2: escape room
More trouble today. One person wasn’t enough for the job, so now it’s a trio. Yato sprints his way through town, fresh irritation on his face as he weaves his way around corners and scrambles over obstacles to escape the small swarm of rough-looking types pursuing him. The trio disperses, doubtless trying to cut off his routes of escape. At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before he’s caught…
He needs to hide.
Maybe you’re just walking along. Maybe you’re in your home or at work. Wherever you are, Yato’s somehow tumbling into your life: around the corner, into that trash can next to you, through your open window, through the front door. Clearly he’s been running for some time, because he’s laboring for breath and awash with sweat. But he dives out of sight, makes eye contact with you, and holds a shaking finger to his lips in the universal gesture of
Shhhhh....…
Because sooner or later, someone else might come along… and you probably don’t want to get caught in Yato’s company.
Day 3: closed to Anya
Anya, I’m not gonna be around for a bit… (;´∀｀)
Just some stuff I need to get sorted out. I’ll still have my phone on me, though.
Don’t party too hard while I’m not looking, wild child! ☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆
Night 4: closed to Yuuko
It’s another day of scuffles and escapes by the skin of his teeth. And if the days aren’t bad enough, the nights are worse. Yato has to sleep sooner or later, and his pursuers know it. He sees movement that isn’t there, every noise to break the stillness a threat. The best he can do is squirrel himself away and hope they aren’t looking. But it always seems like they’re looking.
The stress is catching up to him. He hasn’t been eating or sleeping well. The scrapes and bruises are starting to accumulate in a bad way. He is so very tired.
But there are some things he can’t forget to do. Yato retrieves a hidden roll of bandages from a tree knot on the outskirts of Hollingberry Field. He sits, melting his silhouette with the cradle of the tree’s roots, and begins to redress his wounds. The worst is a long cut to his hand -- blessedly, his offhand. He unwinds the old, stained bandages and rewraps the wound firmly, the better to retain some use when he’ll need it. But he can’t quite finish tying it off with only one hand; he tries to use his teeth, but his coordination is all wrong and he growls in frustration before giving up and thunking the back of his head against the tree.
Something must change. He always ran before, but no longer. He won’t be chased from this town… No more……
He rests his eyes.
And just like that, he falls asleep.
Day 5: the solution
A baseball bat.
Yato is far from dressed for a ball game. He looks positively wild in his dusty tracksuit, unwashed and gray and ringed at head and hands with bandages. But underneath all that unfiltered street hobo is a serious hobo, and despite the posse of thugs outnumbering him, he’s ready to stop running and start venting.
A war god? What a joke. No one needs a modern day Thor or Ares or Shiva. Fighting only causes problems. Fighting is a critical failure of maturity. And as Yato hits a smashing home run with the first thug’s arm, he thinks it’s only just that a would-be god of war teaches them this lesson.
His mind isn’t really all there.
But his body is. It aches and throbs, but his body knows what it’s doing. It wields the baseball bat like it’s an instrument far greater, dancing like it has an edge. Of course, there is no edge -- and so it doesn’t feel quite right. But he can sink into this feeling, a rhythm of yielding flesh and fleeting footwork. He can lose himself in this feeling.
-- That is, until one of the thugs manages to flank him and smash him in the head with a metal pipe. Talk about embarrassing. Yato loses his grip on the baseball bat as he stumbles. Half the group of thugs is down, but the remaining half is more than enough to overpower a vulnerable Yato. They descend upon him with a vengeance, punching and kicking and jeering until he disappears beneath their feet.
He could probably use a little help here…
Day x: wildcard
((I’m dtp -- down to plot! Check out my plotting comment or hit me up at
no subject
[ The words that slip out are in Japanese, but the meaning should come across well enough, considering the sigh that accompanies it. Why are people so quick to choosing violence?
But the thugs weren’t exactly the most difficult opponents Koutarou has ever faced before they became desperate, and now it’s, yes, not hard to knock them out. They will definitely be in a fair amount of pain once this is over. ]
no subject
Once it's done, Yato unceremoniously drops his baseball bat and lowers himself to hands and knees, panting for breath. One fight alone wouldn't drain him so badly, but the long days and nights have caught up to him. His enerdy and adrenaline both are spent. ]
Thanks. Not bad... for an artist.
no subject
I suppose I might be a little rusty.
no subject
[ Yato scoffs before sparing a glance around. It doesn't look like there were any witnesses, and he'd like to keep it that way. Painstakingly, he rises back up to his feet. ]
Let's get out of here.
no subject
[ It’s been a long time since he actively trained. ]
Yeah. And let’s have you wrapped up, too.