[attr="class","bolo-grid-subtitle]― ❝ with my heart up my sleeve.
[attr="class","bolo-body]
"etsumi." the distracted boy is called back to attention, tengfei settled down on the sofa beside him in the smokey karaoke lounge's room. he'd sent etsumi on a minor errand, mostly to deliver a message to a few members of the "crew" - newbies, really. but after it took longer than an hour for sumi to return with a response, fei would simply go to the location himself. the establishment was his (as most properties being utilized for vajrakilaya), but it seems some of the newer members brought in (see: beaten down and made subservient) had issues with the minor wounds they'd been given during scuffles with nichi, junji, and tsukiya. more like wounded egos, it seemed. [break][break]
still... [break][break]
he eyes the slightly bruised side of sumi's face, clearly smacked. the small red against the other's neck, though the individual acting haughty across from them seemed to have several whelps of red on their arms and face. seems like sumi's more like an aggressive cat when provoked. [break][break]
"which one did it?" he nods his head to the trio standing at the opposite side of the room, and the atmosphere tenses as animosity grows.
[attr="class","bolo-grid-subtitle]― ❝ before you know it, it's done.
[attr="class","bolo-body]
etsumi’s anger often flew under the radar - he was very good at disguising his distaste for the world. for the most part his boyish intensity and impetuous comments were quenched by his boyish charm and softer exterior - his wavering lack of confidence also helping too - but when it came to it, he could hold his own. or at least try.[break][break]
currently he’s sat like a petulant child, legs crossed and brow furrowed as he nursed the side of his face - wasn’t going to admit it stung like a bitch or the fact he felt disgustingly embarrassed to have let himself get pinned against a wall before he’d even had the chance to deliver on the one thing he’d been sent out for.[break][break]
and he had blood under his nails now, ew. atleast, with yukio’s skill, his jaw wouldn’t be left bruised.[break][break]
sumi sighs dramatically, angry eyes staring straight back at the tallest of the three men before them, then leisurely lifts a finger to point - i wanted to break his nose.
[attr="class","bolo-grid-subtitle]― ❝ with my heart up my sleeve.
[attr="class","bolo-body]
at the raised finger, the one standing off the side is identified - low profile? the one in the center looks scratched... must have been a group effort. perhaps they thought it'd be an easy fight to pick on etsumi, to "confirm" that they weren't as weak as they'd been made to feel. the tallest, eisen, speaks up indignantly. "where's your proof! why would i hurt that runt? he'd break like a twig!" [break][break]
there's a slew of rambling between the trio, and director observes their mannerisms quietly. in his mind, images of previous interactions are drawn up - side by side comparisons to their current behavior, and he watches for similarity in how they spoke their truth then vs. now. [break][break]
liars. [break][break]
inconsistencies begin to gradually grow as they argue, and sumi pipes up to bicker back - angered and frustrated at being assailed for little to no reason beyond being the messenger. inhaling through his nostrils, he places his palm at the top of sumi's head to quiet him - offering a soft pet. pushing up from the knees, he stands before the three at a distance. [break][break]
[attr="class","bolo-grid-subtitle]― ❝ before you know it, it's done.
[attr="class","bolo-body]
”where's your proof!" pft. yeah, because he’d willingly punch himself in the face just to see them punished. [break] [break]
looking back maybe sumi had only encouraged the group - muttered remarks, sharp responses, cocksure smirks - wasn’t about to stand back and take a hit to his pretty, little face without a single word. hadn’t started it though, merely ushered into a dimly lit room that’d already felt tense. maybe the timing was wrong, stumbling into an already mess of communication with even more instructions. he huffs quietly again - grateful there’d been no weapons involved. yet. [break][break]
now he stays quiet, the brief brush against his messed up hair cooling his boiling anger in one quick tap. and then sumi’s back to nursing his face, index finger circling over where he knew - for the time being only - would mark whilst he flits focus from tengfei to eisen. eisen to tengfei. [break]
sumi scrambles in his pocket for loose change, twirling the old coin found in his fingers a few times before slapping it up into the air, catching it on his palm clumsily - hm, so what does heads mean?
[attr="class","bolo-grid-subtitle]― ❝ with my heart up my sleeve.
[attr="class","bolo-body]
'hm, so what does heads me-' [break][break]
thumb flicks, and the flicker of the light in the small karaoke room temporarily shadows a movement - sword drawn at tengfei's side as he listens mutely to the excess of scream and hyperventilating terror. a severed head, another's clipped side of the face and removed ear with scalp, the last managing to evade being hit due to their position at the further side. all three young men, useless vessels, fall in clamor to the floor as the one bleeding from the head clutches his wound and cries in panic. a bit of the wall is cut, and the light above it also damaged from the movement - a display of skill between shinobi and commoner. [break][break]
"etsumi." [break][break]
he speaks up, head turning over his shoulder a bit as he points to the mess on the floor. [break][break]
[attr="class","bolo-grid-subtitle]― ❝ before you know it, it's done.
[attr="class","bolo-body]
one word, one blink and etsumi could feel the fear. didn’t consume him this time - he’d learnt by now when he needed to be afraid or not, showed some control when it led to controlling his emotions around certain others. he wasn’t in trouble this time and despite wide eyes and a brief pang of shock he felt … mildly indifferent to the blood that’d most likely stain the floor. what a shame. [break][break]
sumi blinks again, daring himself to keep looking ahead and not shy away from the violence he’d grown accustomed to. he’d used to think that everyone deserved compassion but as he watched the last beg for his life, desperately apologising, scrambling, wailing whilst the blood soaked his hair, his skin- well, it made him feel a little sick. and it wasn’t the stench. [break][break]
he flicks the coin again, hesitant for just one second this time holding it out for tengfei to see - heads.
[attr="class","bolo-grid-subtitle]― ❝ with my heart up my sleeve.
[attr="class","bolo-body]
he pauses, head raising a little before moving back a bit and grasping the smaller boy from the cushion, standing him upright. blade's handle is pressed between the boy's palms, and fei smirks as he leans a little - staring at the fear in the already wounded one's eyes, and the young man huddled in a corner. they weren't blessed with things like ninjutsu, and their taijutsu wouldn't be faster than fei's - their speed, inadequate. losing their leader had already made them lose their confidence. mere bullies without direction now, bullies who had no purpose. kids who could grow up and become better. everyone deserved a second chance- [break][break]
"shove it in his throat." he whispers the direction to etsumi, the humidity of fear laced deliciously in the aura of excess fear and silent begging of forgiveness. there was an undertone to sumi's order, however. one that said: [break][break]
"or you'll be headless, just as them." [break][break]
the pressure- the aura he exudes is directed solely on top of etsumi. meant to suffocate him. meant to encourage him. meant for him to prove himself, and prove what he's capable of. the blueish green eyes of his boss that usually looks kindly upon him manifests within the dimly lit light as piercing ice, hellish flame, ghoulish amusement as he smiles over the younge's shoulder. [break][break]
[attr="class","bolo-grid-subtitle]― ❝ before you know it, it's done.
[attr="class","bolo-body]
the instant he’s pulled to his feet he feels it - the fear he’d brushed off as irrelevant. not his. didn’t involve him- well, it had involved him and now it definitely did. etsumi swallows dryly, unsure or unable to find the correct way to respond. hands felt sweaty as tengfei forcefully places the sword - heavier than he’d imagined, weak arms wavering as he tried to steady his stance. [break][break]
days of hiding in the background, relying on his wit or others to get him out of tricky situations suddenly felt behind him. and he hadn’t even had a choice. [break][break] if he wanted to survive.[break][break]
tightens his grip around the weapons handle - not because he knows what he’s doing, because if he didn’t he would most likely lose the little composure he had left. or drop it. large doe eyes look even larger now, pupils dilated from fright, memories of the first few meetings with vajrakīlaya members clouding his mind - judgement skewed. [break][break] everything felt eerily quiet - the only sounds the desperate cries for life, sobs of pain, etsumi’s trembling, drops of- blood? a brief thought of how possible it would be to manipulate the sticky liquid coating the walls made himself frown, disturbed but intrigued. blood is thicker than water, they say, but how much so? [break][break]
he’s stalling. risking a long towards tengfei - knowing then he had no time left to hesitate. or ask questions. sumi turns to face the injured young man, crumpled on the floor already, and takes four brisk paces forward, sweaty hands clenching the hilt tightly. it takes all of his energy to lift the thing alone, unaware he screams too as he plunge it forwards into the side of the strangers neck with as much force as he could summon - letting go within seconds, leaving it half wedged - clumsy, unskilled.
[attr="class","bolo-grid-subtitle]― ❝ with my heart up my sleeve.
[attr="class","bolo-body]
the one huddled in the corner stares, wide eyed. [break][break]
as etsumi tries to slaughter the other - failing to follow a simple instruction, fingers go up to protect the spot. the blade is not a dull one, and with more than a few missing appendages and a sword lodged into the side of his throat, the gurgled scream is muffled by the fade of life. blood loss plays an important role here, and sobs are accompanied by sniffles as tengfei stares at his smaller companion with cold eyes. [break][break]
a hand reaches forward, and the blade is tugged roughly from the side of the other's neck. a single clean swipe finishes the job, accompanied by the loud cries and silent begging - a belief that if bringing up his family, how his mother has a birthday soon, how his girlfriend just forgave him and they were trying to make a baby. tengfei lowers himself into a crouch, speaking quietly with the last of the trio - a soothing hand petting the side of his head. encourages him to put the full blame on his now slain comrades, to scapegoat them to save his own life. in this brief conversation; this brief patronizing of master of life versus resigned (in)subordinate, he manages to calm the other. the exchange of information was profitable: new merchandise for the saloons, new product for the scum of kirigakure. more revenue. [break][break]
he stands up and turns, passing the sword back to sumi as the man looks confused as he also had started to get up, only to stop once he sees sumi holding the sword, and hearing the simple order: "shove means pierce. don't fuck it up unless you want a demonstration." [break][break]
he moves to the door, opening it and motioning a hand to two of the gang men carting along two trash cans to haul the deceased.
[attr="class","bolo-grid-subtitle]― ❝ before you know it, it's done.
[attr="class","bolo-body]
etsumi stands in disbelief, the remaining colour left in his face now drained white - beneath the fresh blood splatters that had painted his pale forehead, of course - as tengfei swiftly, and with an uncomfortable ease, pulls the sword out from the stranger's neck. way to make him suffer more, dumbass, he thought grimly, now surprisingly guilty that he hadn’t been able to showcase any manner of grace.[break] [break]
he finally takes a step backwards as he watches fei finish the task he’d been unable to complete, a shaky hand pushing blood soaked hair away from his face so his vision wasn’t obscured. as tengfei talks, bargains- teases the last man standing he shuffles further away, eyes trained on the back of his palms (as if it’d stop them trembling) instead of the exchange happening in front. it wasn’t his job to pry. he just did as he was told - or … tried to at the best of times. [break][break]
the sword still feels foreign as it’s pressed roughly into his small hands again but he nods, taking a long, deep breath before looking up. can’t help but get distracted by the large men wheeling two human carcasses out of the room - they made it look effortless, almost, like they were bag of potatoes about to be served for lunch. [break][break]
pierce not shove- no, shove is to pierce- what?[break][break]
etsumi couldn’t risk panicking again. another, less shaky this time, deep breath and he regains his position - this time in front of another unknown man. having no idea who they were made this all better - weirdly. or the fact that the guy, who’d previously kicked him in the groin, had accepted his unfortunate fate. [break][break] the weapon still feels heavy but sumi perseveres, the sharp end of the blade now millimetres away from the mans larynx - did he need to go lower? he glances at the door, at tengfei, for clearer instructions, piercing the skin with the tip effortlessly, only pushing deeper after clearly reading the look in the boss's fierce eyes. another life lost - sumi stumbles - why did it feel like he was going to faint? [break][break] dramatic. [break][break] was this … training? or punishment.[break] it felt like it.[break][break]
c-can- w-where are they taking them? what about me?
[attr="class","bolo-grid-subtitle]― ❝ with my heart up my sleeve.
[attr="class","bolo-body]
tengfei settles onto the sofa, watching the display of sumi finally climaxing from innocent, potential whore of an errand boy to a fledged killer who'd now had blood soaked on their hands. it'd been messy - the process. he smirks, lighting a cigarette while sumi looks confused and concerned... for them and himself. "come here, stupid." he pats the sofa next to him, and once he's joined by the boy who's destined to keel over and vomit at any second once the shock wears off, they get to watch as the larger of the few "extras" brought in takes an ax to the limbs of the deceased. "usually, we'd take their organs. eyes, hearts, livers, kidneys, etc." he chuckles, taking a long drag from the cigarette before passing it over to sumi. "smoke this, it'll chill you out." he nods his head, an obvious order. [break][break]
"but they're far too old. dope fiends, alcoholics. their organs are probably busted. most we'd probably get is 15k for their eyes. if we cut their sacs off, could sell their baby batter to get a nice price. but that's kind of unethical." laughs a little. "better to just put them in cement or acid and drop them off the boats into the sea. easy peasy, right kid?" he ruffles etsumi's hair before taking his cigarette back. "you don't know how to use a sword, i guess? i'll commission a special one for you from our guy in sound. he's... chef's kiss when it comes to that shit. kind of fucked up though." frowns, feeling a little shiver just thinking about that asshole. creepy corpse demon, tsk. [break][break]
"good job." he passes the cigarette back after blowing a plume of smoke from the confines of his lungs. [break][break]
"you'll no longer be doing errand work. you won't get hit anymore by scumbags like them." as the trash gets rolled out, he smiles while watching them disappear from his sight.
[attr="class","bolo-grid-subtitle]― ❝ before you know it, it's done.
[attr="class","bolo-body]
etsumi collapses, falling back to land safely on the couch tengfei had already gotten comfortable on - or had he been there watching all this time? he couldn’t tell. couldn’t focus. couldn’t really breathe. he sniffs, the wisps of white cigarette smoke invisible under the stench of what had just occurred. sumi holds up his hands, wet and sticky with blood - still trembling - and tries to swallow as the elder nonchalantly describes how they’d often dispose of remains. instead of taking the offered cigarette he retches. and again. and once more - throat dry and sore - before he frantically wipes his fingers on his stained pants. [break][break]
then he takes it. only because he’s worried he’s disobeyed yet another instruction. listening wasn’t his strong suit, even at the best of the times. [break][break]
baby batter. acid. boats. the words go over his head and he finds himself staring at the sword he must’ve let fall to the floor, now being handed over to her rightful owner by one of the men in charge of clean-up. [break] he answers with a shake of his head, i don’t think i even know how to hold one correctly, but- maybe he would like his own. smaller. hm. without being surrounded by death and decapitated heads the idea of learning how to fight did interest him.[break][break]
it’s the first time i’ve felt strong- are you going to teach me?[break][break]
it didn’t seem right that someone of tengfei’s status - that, alongside the fact he had a lot of other stuff on his plate - would sacrifice precious time to teach a small runaway bukijutsu. he shuffles back, body slumping against the plump leather back of the couch and watches the deranged smile on his boss’ face - the look sending a shiver through his entire body. and yet, etsumi was still here - fascinated.[break][break]
wait, s-so, did you just promote me?[break][break]
the bruising to the side of his face was irrelevant at this point. if he wasn’t so traumatised sumi would’ve probably laughed. [break][break]
please, zǒng, don’t send me out to collect fingers... he whispers, finally twisting to face the other, can i go and wash up? a change of clothes, a bath, a toilet seat to hug-- something to calm his stomach, clear his head. fresh air.
