Board Thread:Tokyo Arc's/@comment-27973212-20160711014945/@comment-5595007-20160730105015

A pervasive silence fills the taxi cab. No radio, no chatter, just the ambient noise of the engines, humming softly to themselves. Light fills the cabin and flees, again and again in hypnotic rhythm as the car passes under streetlights. Cigarette smoke blurs the vision, turning into a haze all that the light touches. Its late. The outside world is abandoned, it’s streets dark and uninhabited. Time seems slowed as the taxi wades through the city streets. Slow, rhythmic, hypnotic, hazy, silent, it all felt surreal, as if only this car existed, as if it’s inhabitant and driver were the only ones allowed to exist.



The cacophonic crackling of an aluminum bag interrupts this silence and continues to intrude itself as it struggles to be opened.

"Whatchya got there?”  

The cab driver’s voice chimes in, more grating than the aluminum. He’s trying to be friendly. It is unwelcomed and greeted with more cackling bags. Finally the bag surrenders and allows itself to be opened, the cabin once again returns to silence.

"Late night huh?" 

Yanagi sits in the back of the cab, opening package after package of coffee beans. Next to him is a large wooden container, bound with two leather straps meant to be fastened to a person's back. Its lid open, its contents hidden by the shadows of its walls even as the street light passes through the cabin. His cigarette sits idly in his mouth, hand rolled, smelling of mint and toxins, the embers of its end illuminate the indifference on his face. Smoke escapes his lungs as he exhales a sigh.

<span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"It's going to be." 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The cackling is replaced with a rattling as the investigator pours the bags of coffee beans into the wooden box, its contents now truly hidden. The lid slams shut, embers glow, and another exhale of smoke helps blur the cabin further. Street light again passes through the windows, this time revealing more of the passenger investigator.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">'"There's blood on your shirt mister..." ' 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The driver sounds nervous, he’d driven odd passengers before, having adopted a policy of don’t ask don’t tell, but this time something didn’t seem right. A fear arose in his mind, and he hopeds to extinguish it, though he already knows the answer.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"...are you hurt?" 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"No." 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Sweat grips the driver's skin, his black gloves hide the white of his knuckles. His senses heighten, exaggerating the surreal environment surrounding him. His eyes lock on the street ahead of him, but the world doesn’t seem to exist outside his cab.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Are...Are you a dove?" 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> "Yes."

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">There was no change of expression when it came to his passenger, there never seemed to be. His demeanor remained as casual as his answer.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Are you going to kill me?" 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">There’s no answer, there doesn’t need to be. The Investigator simply lets cigarette burn as he stares out the window. The driver wishes he’d look at him, at least then he’d feel acknowledged, feel like he matters to some degree, is he even a person to this man?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Lo-look buddy I've got a wife, I've got kids, my family and I we only eat-"  

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The Investigator doesn’t care, doesn’t even seem to be listening. The driver sighs, he has to be resigned to this, there was no sympathy from doves.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Ok...What do you want?" 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"You drive a lot." 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"I do, every day from five-" 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"You drive a lot of ghouls." 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"I do, yeah. But I ain't giving you no-" 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"I'm looking for someone, a girl, reported missing by her mother six months ago, Kanome Tagune." 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Yeah, and?" 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Now you're looking for her too." 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"What?" 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"I'm not going to kill you Mr. Kimura. Not as long as you can help save this little girl. I need you to keep your ears open." 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"I will. Thank y-" 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"...and give me your shirt." 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">At the address of Lady MM a taxi comes to a halt before it’s illustrious red carpet. The back door opens and expels a plum of smoke. Out steps the Ghost, dressed in a fresh new shirt. A wooden containment crate adorns his back. Gold and marble and lights reveal themselves to him, but he is unimpressed, he is always unimpressed. A planter she had said. A planter in front of the establishment she had went so far as to specify. Yanagi now looked at the front of the establishment, at the plethora of planters that ran adjacent to the entryway stairs. Great.



<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> It seems the investigator now has to investigate. Damn. Well, this is a ghoul party, a very illegal ghoul party. Security has to be tight, and not just on the exterior, they would be paranoid of intruders masquerading as party goers, ghouls or otherwise. There were two possibilities, either Mayu had planted the invitation and mask before entering, or after. She couldn’t have been sure he’d attend, and so planting it beforehand would run the risk of the items being discovered, therefore alerting the ghouls. This means she had to have planted it after the party had begun, and there was no way she had gotten outside without some form of supervision or suspicion. So she would have a short timeframe preventing her from reaching the planters furthest from the entrance. However she’d be aware enough to know that when she was retrieved her supervisor would survey the location, meaning she wouldn’t have placed them close to the entrance either. <p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The investigator walks up the steps to the middle three planters, a quick search reveals what he is looking for. A golden mask, it’s design and functionality meant for a ghoul. It seems likely the mask was made by the Black Widow, as she was the known supplier of such ghoul masks. This could mean that the Widow is Mayu’s informant, especially due to the history the two share. Mayu, in short, hates ghouls, but she hates some less than others.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Yanagi ties the golden ribbons around his head, doing so turns his visage into that of a fox. It reeks of ghoul scent, most likely meaning to disguise his own, but it doesn’t bother him, it’s a scent he’s too used to.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Finally he grabs the invitation, pink, perfumed, elegant. An attempt to add class to something inherently savage. Ghouls trying to disguise themselves with more than just a mask. It says he is cordially invited to Lady MM’s showcase. Lady MM, the host, a name he’d have to remember. Though it isn’t the host’s name that catches his attention, it’s the term showcase. What exactly is it that this MM has to show off? Why is it so impressive as to invite so many other ghouls? Mayu’s tone had given him the suspicion, but this invitation only confirms it, this wasn’t an ordinary case. Though in hindsight it seems they never are when he’s involved.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">He grabs the invitation and goes to the entrance, where he is greeted with a friendly albeit judgmental doorman.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"May i help you Sir?" 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"I'm a guest." 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">A moment of silent judgement ensues. He has the nicer dress sure, but a buttoned up shirt and some slacks doesn’t mean he was ready for a black tie event. Besides, there is that casual slouch...and whatever is that box on his back?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Invitation?" 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Here." 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Surprisingly it seems he was in fact invited. Still, there was that horrendous crate on his back.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"And what in gods name is that? Surely you don't expect to take it in." 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">'"A gift for Lady MM. A surprise for the party." ' 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"I can't allow you to take that inside." 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">'"It's a cappuccino machine. I've gotta set it up in the kitchen." ' 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The investigator sets down his containment unit, opening the lid to reveal it full of coffee beans.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“They package it in this stuff, you know how these people are.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The doorman goes to inspect the box, in an attempt to rummage through the beans and find it’s contents, but the lid slams shut before him.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Can't let you touch 'em. You'll ruin the taste." 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"...Very well." 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Here." 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Suddenly the box finds itself in the doorman’s arms.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Carry it in for me." 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Reluctantly the doorman obliges, and leads the fox into the manor. Gold and marble, as far as the eye can see, their shine and swirl combining into an spiralling waltz of aesthetic appeasement. Everything is the finest quality, exquisite, eccentric, imported, hand crafted. None of it truly belongs to Lady MM. No, this is the kind of rich that can only be borrowed. It belongs to her family, and is shared with her only due to her last name, whatever it was. This isn’t an honest rich either, it’s the boastful luxury meant to distract from the dishonest fortune which affords it. This is a ghoul playing pretend.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Finally they arrive at the kitchen, and after setting down the outrageous package, the doorman leaves Yanagi to his own devices. <p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Yanagi straps the box back onto his back and begins investigating the kitchen. He starts with the fridge, which he knows will be the worst part. He wasn’t wrong. When he arrives he looks upon the carved corpses of families with unwavering eyes. Their bodies hang from meat hooks like animals, surgically mutilated. It is not new sight.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;" >What is new however, is the way the meat is prepared. Coming to the front of the kitchen Yanagi sees how exquisitely the food was made. Its enough to make him question his own dietary habits. The meals were prepared in such a way that they look almost edible. Still, what concerns the investigator about the front of the kitchen is the lack of staff. The discernable uproar of cheers and conversations pierce through the walls, which means there’s a sizeable crowd of party guests out in the dining hall. Yet in the kitchen here there is barely -wait. The staff aren't in the kitchen preparing food because they are out in the hall serving it, which means that they will have to serve it to Mayu. Under this pressure she couldn’t refuse to eat, and with this many eyes on her it would be too difficult to fake.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">As he steps from the kitchen he peers at the crowd through the golden sockets of the fox mask. An impressive congregation of ghouls, to be sure. He sets about analyzing the females in the crowd. Mayu was too independent to give into this high class garbage, she wouldn’t buy into the feminine mold presented to her without defying it in some way. She would have to make a statement, even when trying to stay inconspicuous. So he looks for a statement, and it doesn’t take long. A woman in a samurai mask, a literal metallic piece of ornate armor. It’s visage gruesome, fierce, masculine, contrasting the feminine dress that clung to her figure. High fashion would probably eat that crap up. That was Mayu, no doubt. It suited her to some degree, though Yanagi’s own visage remains uninterested.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">His bosses appearance doesn’t matter. What matters is her situation. She’s seated next to a woman clearly born into luxury. Her dove white dress perpetuating purity, her silver glistenings demanding acknowledgment. Faceless men stand by her side, stripped of individuality, catering to her wants and desires. This woman had to be the hostess, Lady MM. Mayu was brash at times, but she wasn’t reckless, so it isn’t that she sat by the hostess of her own volition. Unfortunately that means Yanagi was right, the hostess was testing to see if Mayu would eat the food.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Knowing what his Commissioner would do if put to the test, Yanagi resolves not to let her do it. He makes his way towards their table, not needing to look at the Samurai to know that she’s already preparing to take a bite. Calculating the trajectory of one of the faceless servants, Yanagi alters his course, and the two come into collision. The Server is skilled, and tries ensure that his tray maintains gyroscopic balance, but he is no match for Yanagi’s sleight of hand. The soup so carefully prepared, tips on its tray only enough to spill onto Yanagi’s new shirt. The Server, none the wiser, goes on his way, his thoughts pompous and judgemental towards the rude nature of such a foul guest.

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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Now covered in human broth, the fox investigator arrives at the table of the hostess. He moves too silently, too quickly, for the men around her to perceive him in time and therefore stop him. His body severs eye contact between the hostess and the samurai as he stands before Lady MM. There is a brief moment of shock, and an even briefer moment of silence as the guests look on in anticipation.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Hey lady. Your guy spilled soup on my shirt." 

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#white;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">His tone is blunt, his posture casual, and his eyes bored. as he speaks he makes a thumb gesture over his back, pointing to the server. He doesn’t acknowledge the samurai, the bunny, or the other odd tablemates that his body visually obstructs. They’ are not the ones who can give him a new shirt.