[closed] tanabata blues

[nagano]

⌛ Who: Kaito Nagano and The Real Folk Blues (Setsura Yamaguchi too I guess)
⌛ What: Actually Tanabata
⌛ When: July 7th
⌛ Where: Shibuya, Tokyo
⌛ Warnings: Who knows! It'll probably get spicy or stupid or both Naked people doing the horizontal tango and also maybe a lil teeny tiny bit of body horror 🙂



[ Standing atop one of Shibuya's taller buildings is one (1) Kaito Nagano. It's just a guess, but he's approximated that this is roughly where his apartment complex would stand if he were back home. On the ledge in front of him stands a tall potted bamboo plant. In his hand he has a turquoise-colored paper tag. Some kanji have been brushed onto one side—the empath's wish.

As he reaches forward to hang the paper slip on one of the bamboo's branches, a flood of thoughts clamor in his mind. He's barely been in Nippon for a week, maybe two, yet it feels like an eternity since he last pet his cat, or phoned home, or helped his brother with his homework. The food here is so similar to what he has at home, but the taste becomes bland within bites.

He hasn't eaten since returning from Kyushu.

There's too much familiarity. He feels like he's back in Japan, yet there are no signs of what make Japan home anywhere to be found.

How long will it take to adapt?

Will he adapt?

Kaito finishes adjusting his wish on the bamboo tree before slipping an orange Zippo lighter out of a pocket. With a few flicks, he's ignited a flickering flame—and the paper is set alight. He makes sure to douse the growing blaze before it touches the bamboo's flesh. ]

Comments

[chichichi]

[ It's in the second the flame flickers before it's doused that it happens. The breeze is usurped by an abrupt shift in the direction of the winds in the wake of which a flash of black can be seen behind the paper, the flame, the tree. It wouldn't be unreasonable to guess that it, whatever it is, is responsible for the abrupt, screaming departure of the rattle pigeons perching on the ledge and in the crevices beneath it.

As though they couldn't possibly get away from whatever has seen fit to intrude upon their perch.

It is she and she perches atop the ledge as silently as she alighted upon it a healthy five, ten feet from the bamboo tree and the wishmaker. She's a small thing and unusual in that she's a black Passerine. Pitch, actually. Daylight makes it more obvious. It doesn't quite seem to bathe her in the same way it does other objects. It's almost as though it's being put off by something clinging to her, something that makes pitch deeper, darker still than that.

It's only slightly less noticeable than the deep, violet eye fixed upon the man and there it remains, her head slightly canted. She doesn't pause or abruptly shift to crane her neck and preen her feathers. She simply, perhaps eerily continues to perch and and gaze at him silently. ]

continued from Above™

[nagano]

[ He should have known better.

He really should have known better.

As the birb wreathed in darkness undergoes a transformation into something much more human (compliments to her for not going the magical bird girl route, btw), Kaito finds himself staring in mild, perhaps morbid curiosity—

At least, until the shift completes and he finds himself the recipient of one (1) very woman-shaped Setsura. The force of her body hitting the magically suspended water sends it splashing all over the bathroom, form lost and rapidly vanishing into the two drains on the floor. And at the center of it all, Kaito falls on his ass before catching her, ignoring the immediate two-pronged pain of landing on his tailbone and having direct skin-to-skin contact with another human.

Bird human. Human-presenting bird? ]

...I see. I don't suppose you were trying to warn me that this might happen when I started rubbing your wings, huh?

[ Hubris makes for such a beautiful train wreck. ]