Welcome to Tokyo, Japan. January, 1991. The world has entered the technology era, portable phones, home computers, internet, video games. Japan quickly became the epicenter of the latest and greatest. Companies and factories flourished. Where money was, people followed. And while many rose to live a comfortable, happy, and delightful life from this new found money... Others did not. You see, money has this effect on people that can't be outdone. People will do anything for it. And when it starts slipping into the wrong hands, it's impossible to stop. Benethe the day time laborers and the double-shift workers, a seedy underbelly of syndicates exists. Narctics, black market, organized crime, money laundering, you name it and it's been growing as fast as the upper world economy. While many do it just to stay alive, there's those who make it their posh lifestyle. Either way, there's only one question. What would you do if the money was good enough?
JAN 29 2021: Welcome!! ƎLEMENT has been open for two weeks now and we're so happy to see such a bright beginning! If you're new feel free to drop into the discord and say hi before joining.
As his mind began to, mercifully, clear, the safety of his familiar spot easing some of the tension in his shoulders, Shu began to notice the telltale signs of discomfort. Those clenched fists shoved into his pockets, that dark gaze glancing around the room, the far-too-easy dismissal of his offer of help. Stubbornness and an anti-doctor mentality were all too common in this line of work, Shu instinctively bristling at the implications behind Kane's words, his mind jumping to the conclusion that he was using faked concern to push away the physician's help. [break][break] "Listen I'm..." [break][break] Shu had just begun to open his mouth, to murmur some offended retort at the man's previous comments, but he stopped, frozen, swaying just slightly as he observed the other's expression. That "I'm sorry" hit like a truck, some punch to his gut and ache to his chest he couldn't quite explain with words. There was authentic worry in there, even if it was mostly overshadowed by some fear of the syndicate... right? [break][break] "I-I... uhm..." his voice was weaker than he would have liked, shock, some mild form of flattery, and probably a healthy dose of concussion coating his features in a faint scarlet hue, made only worse when that golden gaze fell back to him. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, wincing at the sound of pebbles falling to the tiles beneath, feeling equal parts embarrassed and obstinate at the man's suggestions. "I'm going to be fine." That was what he wanted to hear, right? "There's nothing--especially something like this--that could make me leave this uh... line of work." That was probably the truth, right? "I don't uhm--" [break][break] He cut himself off, not even quite sure himself where his train of thought was going. Slowly, he began to pull those dyed locks back into another loose bun, letting the silence linger and build up his resolve. Kane was asking him all of that stuff, was telling him to check on himself first, was making sure he wouldn't run or tattle, because he thought he was weak. At least, that's where Shuichi's head jumped to, obstinance growing in his gut until the moment he finished securing his hair and turned a far more determined, no-nonsense expression to his companion. [break][break] "I'm fine; I have some meds I can take to get rid of this headache and the scrape on my knee barely broke the skin. You," and he stepped forward, hoping he seemed braver than he felt in that moment, "have much more dire wounds that need to be looked at and cleaned." As if to demonstrate this, Shu reached up and gently prodded Kane's shoulder, watching for the implicating wince or grimace that was sure to come from the pressure so close to his wound. "You're going to let me fix you up." He paused, finally glancing emeralds away from gold, a bit of that timidity returning as he added, tone softer, "Please... It's the least I can do after you saved my life..." Darker. Gods, could his cheeks get anymore crimson. With a sigh and some hopefully-not-misplaced small little smile, he murmured, "Plus, I never get to use all of these skills for any damn good. It'd be... nice... to know I still can fix things with these hands..."
Long nights weren't a particularly rare occurrence for Dr. Morita, his work schedule at the chaotic whim of his clients. Honestly, the man hardly got enough sleep to warrant the amount of time he was on his feet in life-and-death situations, bags under his eyes and the subtle tremble of his fingers when not completing a surgery clear indicators of his exhaustion. So Shu could be forgiven for his immediate response, when, while slipping out from some deep-pocketed client's home close to dawn, he heard the telltale sounds of pained breathing and physical struggling. [break][break] "Oh, for fuck's sake..." he muttered under his breath, pausing, listening to those shallow breaths, already knowing that whoever the hell it was was just around the corner, down that alley just to his left. [break][break] You should just go home, his mind assured him. You should just go home and rest. You're done for the day. This isn't your responsibility. Their health isn't your responsibility. You need sleep. The meds are going to wear off soon. You need rest. Go home. Don't help them. You can't help them. They're just some nobody... [break][break] He cursed himself as he turned to his left and started jogging down the alleyway. [break][break] For all the years he'd spent using those highly-trained hands for good, training his mind to withstand--poorly--the guilt of all the pain his medical knowledge had caused, Shu was still, deep down inside, that little boy with the bright emerald gaze just wanting to help out, to keep people safe, to heal. He couldn't ignore someone in trouble anymore than he could say no to every little request that came from those rich bastards. He had the skills and training to help; he should help. [break][break] At least, that's what he told himself as he rounded the corner, spotted that hunched over body in the gloom of the early morning. He slowed, slightly, as he drew closer, already pulling his long locks up into a loose, wild bun. His gaze flitted across the woman's form, noting the plethora of scrapes and bruises along the field of her skin, the casual wear she toted, the wad of jacket pressed against some clearly-oozing wound at her side. He was kneeling next to her before he could stop himself. [break][break] "Miss, are you okay?" he posed, without hesitating reaching forward to push back her bangs, to try and catch her eye, to check pupil dilation. If her breathing pattern was any indication, she was going into shock, which wasn't good by any means. It was as if instinct were taking over, Shu's tone, usually so harsh and deathly monotone while working, taking on some softer cadence he only really used when around his sister. She looks so young..."My name's Shuichi," he tried, emeralds searching her gaze for recognition, for focus. Just pretend she's Sachi... He smiled, some reassuring expression he rarely bore these days, at least authentically. "I'm a--" He faltered, just momentarily, wondering briefly if he had any right to call himself that. It'll help her trust me."I'm a doctor. Can you-- Can you tell me what happened?"
Two years of this damnable job and a lifetime in the world of elitist bastards had made Shuichi wholly aware of which rich bastards were to be feared and which were easy pickings. Yoritaka Yozo was one of the former. The guy was a madman, hooked on the high of violence and power, his hotel empire a front for a plethora of unsavory body-trading. The only thing he seemed to like more than getting rich off the pain of others was those shots of morphine and pretty pills provided by none other than Dr. Morita. [break][break] But Shu wasn't an idiot, and self-preservation was the key to his success and continued survival in the hellscape that was the Tokyo underground. This meant two things: one, he made sure to stay around during Yozo's product testing because if he died on one of Shu's offerings, the young doctor wouldn't live to see the next sunrise; two, he needed some sort of deterrent for the rich prick to keep his hands and, well, prick away from him while partaking. [break][break] Raosetsi Shizuka was that deterrent. [break][break] The guy was a beast, some visage of intimidating, unhinged energy, and he was perfect for those days when Shu had to mingle with his more unsavory clients. Shu wasn't wholly sure whether he fully trusted the erratic man, but he had, so far, proven reliable enough, his mere presence usually keeping the creeps and associated violence at bay. He couldn't complain with results like that. [break][break] And so there they stood, that tall drink of chaotic water and his mildly shorter employer, a strange pair of vibrant blues and pinks, radiating conflicting energies into some cohesive haze. Shu glanced over at his companion before entering that high-rise Roppongi penthouse, emerald catching sapphire for a moment as he did a final check. [break][break] "This one's mmmm... a lot," he noted, those traitorous nerves subtly creeping into the underside of his tone. "And he'll be on enough ketamine to down a bull. You uh... you've got this, right?" [break][break] He waited, just enough time for a confirmation, before rapping his fist against that oaken door.
Even with the world still spinning, Shu managed to frown at that selfless comment. He's the one bleeding and he's worried about ME! his mind murmured, unaware of that streak of red running from his hairline, of the crimson stains at the knee of his slacks. It was almost insulting, the concerned panic in his companion's tone; he was fine, right? Just a scraped knee and a little dizziness, right? You'd think a man who'd spent the last decade working in [break][break] "I'm fine," he lied, though the world was getting a little easier to manage. Despite the assurance, he, after a brief moment of clearly-nervous contemplation, took the offered arm. He wrapped around it perhaps too easily, grateful, if nothing else, for the ability to put less pressure on that damnable knee. Pouting perhaps more obviously than he would have liked, social inhibitions rather absent after that head bonk, he murmured, "Clinic... My clinic is just a few streets over..." [break][break] And off they went, two battered bodies stumbling through the alleys of Tokyo, their destination some backdoor clinic with enough sequestered narcotics to numb a herd of elephants. The trek was less than smooth, the pain in Shu's knee increasing as his head finally started to really clear up. He needed some pain meds; bad. He knew Kane needed them too, though, and stitches. Lots of stitches. As they fumbled together, Shu kept trying to take a bit more of the pressure off of his companion, though any excessive pressure on his bad leg resulted in some sharp hiss of pain and a stuttered stumble so that by the end of their journey, Shu was all but hanging off of the other, his grip tight on that offered arm, practically lying on it, his breathing a bit shallowed. [break][break] "M-Made it..." he murmured, guiding their conjoined forms to the nondescript door. He released Kane, reluctantly perhaps, to fumble in his pocket for his keys, unlocking the four different deadbolts and slumping against the doorframe for a minute to catch his breath. He took a moment, breathing, before glancing over his shoulder and shooting some pitiful little grin in Kane's direction. "L-Let's get you patched up, Mr. Oshiro." And with some weak laugh, very unlike the stoic visage he tried so hard to maintain during working hours, Shu grabbed the other's wrist and started tugging him into the space.
Shu's brows furrowed in annoyed concern at Kane's dismissive words, his mouth opening to reprimand him, to assure him that injuries were something to worry about no matter how many times you'd survived them. He never got around to it, though, a sudden sharp tugging on his hair stripping his voice from him, sending him careening back towards the ground. A stuttered yelp of pain erupted from him as he made sharp contact with the ground, his head bouncing where it hit the concrete. [break][break] For a moment, all Shu saw were stars. Slowly, his vision cleared, the world looking like some piece of watercolor before that hovering boot came far too quickly and far too clearly into focus. Panic filled every ounce of the doctor's countenance, the pain in his head, in his leg, completely forgotten as he watched in slow motion that foot come down towards his face. [break][break] Shuichi was still lying there, staring up at where that boot had lingered, when the man charged Kane. Unable to fully grasp what had actually happened, all Shu could really process was the fact that he was... Alive! I'm alive! He was still there, shaky, a cocktail of terror and relief in his gaze as Kane stumbled his way. Weakly, he took hold of the offered arm, stumbling to his feet, his grip on the other so tight it turned his knuckles white. [break][break] "Are you okay?" [break][break] Shu stared at him for a long moment, his system simultaneously on high-alert and scrambling to catch up to the scene. They were alone; just the two of them, their assailants run-off or taken care of. He ached. A lot. But Kane looked far worse. [break][break] "F-Fine..." he lied, still gripping the other's arm, his breathing shallow as he, without thinking, rest his forehead on his companion's shoulder. "Th-Thank you... Thank you..." He swallowed, steadied, pulled back and tried to move through the painful haze that was his current state of mind. Wounds... we need to... look at your wounds." Where were they again? What was close? A hospital; though they weren't about to go there. "Clinic... My clinic's near here... or apartment... we can go..." [break][break] He closed his eyes, focusing on his words, on steadying his tone. He looked a bit better when he opened those emeralds and spoke again. [break][break] "I've got medical supplies; I can look at your wounds and get them fixed up."
It was wrong, the thoughts that flashed through Shuichi's mind as that woman wrapped her arms around him. He tensed, even with the narcotics taking hold of his system, debating how quickly he could get that scalpel in his back pocket through her pharynx. He didn't, of course, knowing he'd be a dead man in a matter of seconds, even as those fingers trailed through his hair, even as she whispered to him, even as she pressed those poisonous lips to his cheek. [break][break] He released the breath he'd been holding in as she mercifully backed away, his expression not losing that tensed, quiet anger. He hardly liked being in the same room as other people, let alone touched by them. Especially when the company was so disreputable. As she spoke, he spent the time calming himself, running his own hand through those long locks as if trying to weed her touch from them. He tensed, just briefly, at the "drugged out" comment, though he hides the jarred expression well enough. [break][break] Thankfully, Sunadokei didn't linger long, sashaying away after a moment of observation, her form replaced by that briefcase of cash. This he could manage; this he could understand. Had that Klonopin not started to creep its way through his system, he might have even let it lie there, been satisfied. Instead... [break][break] "I want twenty." His gaze was on that briefcase as it snapped shut, his voice far steadier than it had any right to be. His emeralds glanced in her direction, maintaining that steadiness, his arms crossing over his chest in a far more confident pose than he actually felt he deserved to brandish. "Ten million up front, five after the sting, and then the remaining five after you have your information." A pause, Shuichi trying not to gag on his words. "Seems like a good deal between friends to me."
On those rare occasions when Shuichi's services weren't needed, when he had an evening to himself, he was most often found tucked away in that modern-aesthetic townhouse he called home. He would sit with a good book or get high and play video games until he passed out or, more often than not, struggle with the crippling anxiety looming in his gut by sitting on his couch and downing a handful of Xanax and a bottle of wine. Luckily for Jikai, Shu had been halfway through that latter option when he'd gotten so stressed that pacing around his home with a bottle of Merlot wasn't doing enough, sending him over to his clinic to straighten things up. [break][break] When's the last time you put literally anything in order? his brain chided as he trudged through the dark, as he arrived at that little back-alley door, as he slid in and glanced around at the practically-immaculate space. It wasn't large; he was the only worker, it didn't need to be especially spacious. A waiting room, operating room, bathroom, and a little office for him to disappear to if he needed. The address wasn't often given out, Shu reserving this place for those high-profile clients and those strong bodies he most frequently hired to keep him safe while on the job. [break][break] He got to work immediately, some manic energy in his movements as he flitted from room to room, grabbing up documents, washing already-clean tools. The wine bottle followed wherever he went, propped on some countertop every time he reentered one of the different rooms, occasionally giving him some escape from the wholly-unnecessary cleaning. The place was as prim and properly put together as his home, cleanliness and obsessive-levels of organization a relatively useful byproduct of Shu's anxiousness. The fact he had felt the need to even come to the clinic, let alone as hopped-up as he was, was ridiculous; he should have been back home, snuggled up on his couch, crying over some sappy move or-- [break][break] KNOCK! KNOCK! [break][break] The sound that left Shuichi's lips was some strange halfway point between a yelp and a cough, the poor thing halfway through a swig of Merlot when that fist hit the door. He stood in the waiting room, eyeing the doorway suspiciously, clinging to the neck of that bottle like it was a lifeline ready to pull him to safety. As the anxiety meds and wine had begun to settle in his system, the world had begun to melt into something like a watercolor painting, the only things in focus hyper-visualized to a jarring degree. [break][break] In that moment, it was like the clinic's front door was the only thing in existence amidst a sea of melting colors. [break][break] Slowly, so agonizingly slowly, Shu crept towards the entrance, his visage something akin to a terrified animal. When he did eventually open the door--against his better judgment; inhibitions were all but chased out by that chemical reaction going on in his system--his guest was treated to a sight rather abnormal for the young doctor. Disheveled locks hanging loose around his frame, one of his oversized at-home sweaters and a pair of old, torn-up capris replacing the usual professional, perfectly-fitted ensemble he bore while on the clock; he looked like, well, a normal twenty-nine-year-old on a day off. [break][break] It took Shu a long moment to focus in and register who exactly was at his doorstep, Jikai's form clearing through the watercolor haze and shooting a fresh, unexpected wave of anxiety through the young man. [break][break] "J-Jikai?" he flustered, words slurring ever-so-slightly, brows furrowing in confusion. "Wh-Why are you--?" [break][break] Blood. That was blood. Oh no, that was a lot of blood. [break][break] "Sh-Shit! Come in, come in!" [break][break] And without waiting for too much of a reaction, Shu was grabbing at the other, instinct taking over even in that inebriated state, tugging him into the clinic. It was a bit of a chaotic pulling, that wine bottle a bit... intrusive, but the moment Jikai was fully inside, Shu closed and locked the door behind him. Social recollection wasn't the most successful of endeavors for Shuichi in that moment, his brain always capable of recalling with perfect clarity the name and location of every bone in the human body while so often forgetting faces and names in the haze of intoxication. Fortunately, they'd had enough interactions--Jikai was one of Shu's go-to bodyguards--that the young doctor managed to remember his face and importance enough for that preservation instinct to kick in. [break][break] "What happened?" he inquired, setting his bottle down and turning to assess the other's form. Normally, he'd have given some space and time for the man to explain himself, never partial to touch when not necessary. As it were, his hands were back on the other the moment they were free from the wine, tugging at fabrics so he could look at his wound, a one-track mind another byproduct of that chemical-cocktail state.
Shu nodded along to Kane's explanation as he rifled, trying not to think about how he, too, had fallen into that category of desperate student seeking some way to get through his exams. He was also trying to ignore the way that man crouched near him, that relaxed pose, that... Too close, his mind murmured, Shu's childhood yearning for touch having been replaced by some aversion to it in his later years, especially during his working hours. Still, he didn't back away, though he tensed in preparation for any sort of accidental touch their hands might share in passing those boxes from hand-to-hand. [break][break] He didn't even register the rustling as suspect, so caught up in his own anxious contemplations, only noticing something was wrong when Kane's hands froze in their advance. Confused emeralds glanced to that moving form, brows furrowed, a creeping panic beginning to fill his system. [break][break] Years earlier, before he'd learned the truth of the family business, before he'd gotten sucked into this disastrous life, Shu would have been struck paralyzed by his terror at whatever danger lurked in those alley shadows. As it were, three years of this work had made him far more reactive, his hands quickly moving to tuck the boxes away at Kane's indication. A part of him wanted to run right then; another wanted to stick close to his companion's side. [break][break] He won't protect you, idiot! his mind screamed, reminding him that to this man he was just a useful associate, a tool to get his money. That thought circled his mind as that window broke behind him, as he turned to stare, wide-eyed with terror, to spot the two men careening down into the alleyway, as he heard his blood pumping in his ears, as he-- [break][break] What? [break][break] Confusion riddled Shuichi's features as Kane stepped between him and the assailants, some momentary consideration that maybe, just maybe, there was more to that-- [break][break] Run, idiot! [break][break] He scrambled the moment that man started after him, tried to slip around his momentary protector. He's just protecting the delivery, he reminded himself as he began to stumble to his feet and away down the alley, Something YOU should be focusing on. He tried to ignore the sound of confrontation behind him as he darted away, that backpack cradled to his chest like some valuable heirloom. So chaotic was his stumbling, his heartbeat ringing in his ears, Shu made it hardly a yard before he'd tripped, a hiss of pain escaping him as the fabric of his pants ripped and his knee was gashed. [break][break] There was a part of him that wanted to just keep running until he was back at his apartment, deserting Kane to... whatever the hell was going on behind him. But Shuichi had always been a helper, that good-hearted nature never completely overshadowed by his current cynicism and sense of self-preservation. And so he instead slid around the first corner he found, leaning against the brick, trying to stifle his breathing as best he could, waiting for the sound of struggle to cease and, hopefully, an opportunity to see what was happening. [break][break] From the sounds of it, the two invaders had run away, though there was a long moment after the initial decline in sound that Shu stayed put, hidden away, too terrified to actually peak his head out, fighting against the pain in his leg from that stumble. Eventually, though, as stuttered footsteps grew closer, he couldn't help himself and managed to brave a quick glance around the corner. [break][break] "Sh-Shit!" he cried, spotting the battered form of his colleague, immediately, almost on instinct, stumbling out of his hiding spot and over to Kane's side. A flash of that former self, the one that still lingered just beneath that beaten-down surface, came through as he hooked the backpack over his shoulder, freeing up his hands to reach out and steady the other man. "S-Steady! Steady! Are you okay? What happened? Did they get you anywhere else besides the shoulder?" [break][break] The doctor's voice was some strange cocktail of concern, wavering fear, and that seriousness one only got from spending a few good months working a trauma ward. Shu's eyes were already assessing the damage, instinct taking over, so distracted by the wounded man that he didn't notice the third assailant slipping up behind him, reaching to grab a handful of that young physician's locks.
Shuichi could have scoffed at Sunadokei's comment about separating work and play. He would have were he not worried about the woman's potentially volatile reaction. How often had the stressors of this damnable occupation followed him home? How many nights had his sleep been interrupted by the far-too-visceral memories of the terrors he'd inflicted? How many pills had he popped to try and stay sane when not on the clock? What little he could do to keep himself distanced from his work was merely out of survival instinct; he'd not have survived this long if he didn't put up what little barriers he could manage. [break][break] The threat of violence had he not willing come was enough to tug him from his musings on self-preservation, an unamused grimace gracing his features as that threatening undertone took root in his consciousness. Shuichi had enough connections and protections from those connections that he was sure Sunadokei could, at the very least, face a plethora of problems doing something of the like, though that would most certainly only come after the meeting, and Shu had never been keen on confrontation. [break][break] Better to suck it up and bear it, his mind bitterly mused. At least you'll be getting paid. [break][break] And paid he would be; hopefully quite a bit for the amount of work Sunadokei was asking of him. Not only would he have to actually go about extracting information, but he'd be a part of the sting operation to get the traitors. It wasn't ideal. Shu didn't like to put himself at risk, even a minute amount of it. Despite his self-deprecation, his self-preservation instincts were far stronger, lending his preference towards avoiding dangerous situations. Standing in as bait for some traitorous thug operation was, again, not ideal. [break][break] But no wasn't an answer, he knew that, knew from word-of-mouth and his own firsthand observations how more likely it was for him to come out unscathed if he just went along with Sunadokei's whims. It was that knowledge the spurred him towards his acceptance of the deal, that caused that twinge of nervousness to cross his features as that woman stalked towards him, stepped too close for comfort, stared him down so intimidatingly. [break][break] "Dental would work," he agreed, knowing all too well how effective the methods were, hating how his hands had become so skilled at those extractions and adjustments that brought his victims to their knees. He glanced away, incapable of bringing himself to maintain that eye contact even as the Klonopin began to hit, began to numb those anxious spikes piercing his gut. "Makes it hard to talk, though. Fingers are a better place to start." He sighed, adding with a shrug, "We can play it by ear." [break][break] A pause, enough for Sunadokei to pose a reply if she liked, before his gaze flitted back to her violet hues. [break][break] "You're asking a lot, though," he said honestly, the narcotics giving his tongue a bit of bravery. "I don't usually like putting myself in the line of fire..." and he glanced briefly at those strong, intimidating bodies bordering the room, "... no matter how strong the protection." Those emeralds flitted back to that woman standing so dangerously close. "What's the pay?"
It was perhaps incorrect to say that Shuichi looked forward to these monthly meetings. On the contrary, he wasn't the fondest of the exchanges that he knew led to a plethora of dumb kids with too much of daddy's money in their pockets feeding their addictions. He'd been one of those kids not too long ago, had gone to dealers before he'd been able to write the prescriptions himself. The idea of being a part of that vicious cycle, of being the catalyst for that vicious cycle, was something he preferred to avoid at all costs. [break][break] He couldn't quite say the same for the man he was meeting in that back alley. [break][break] Kane Oshiro was something of an enigma to the young doctor. Handsome, friendly, and far more down-to-earth than he had any right to be while working with the Ajiwau. And, god, that eyepatch was such a point of contemplation for Shuichi. He used to love things like that, those little pieces of people that made them minutely unique, used to love learning about them. But you weren't supposed to do that, weren't supposed to get to know your associates in this business. You weren't supposed to find them appealing or endearing or anything more than just "useful." [break][break] He's just useful. Good money. Easy company, his mind reminded him as he trudged towards that meeting spot, thick sweater and a handmade scarf from his little sister in place to fight off the chill of the evening. He'd always been a baby about the cold. One of the few you don't have to hire a bodyguard for. Don't ruin that. [break][break] "Of course," he replied as he joined his business partner in that dark space, the flash of a perhaps too-friendly smile splitting his flushed-against-the-cold cheeks. He didn't usually smile during these types of things; another Kane Oshiro-flavored enigma. "The Doctor always delivers!" [break][break] Stupid. That was stupid, his brain chided, Shu actively wincing at the peppy lilt to his tone. What the hell was wrong with him? He was literally handing out illegal narcotics to a guy who made a living feeding unhealthy addictions. Shaking off the strangely friendly opening, flushed with embarrassment, wishing he'd thought to pop some Xanax before meeting up with Kane, Shu tugged off his backpack. [break][break] "Big order this month," he noted, glancing up at his companion as he knelt down and began to rifle through the bag, some forlorn smile flitting across his features. "Business booming?" [break][break] A moment later and he'd be tugging out that little care package he always delivered the narcotics in; two of them this time where normally there was just one. Simple white boxes, a teal ribbon keeping each sealed. They looked like little presents, held up to that taller form, that same conflicted smile still roosting on Shuichi's lips.
If there was ever a place Shuichi didn't want to be on a Friday evening, it was amidst the throngs of gyrating bodies and booming acoustics that made up the Seventh Heaven nightclub. Any nightclub, really, though knowing who he was there to meet with was... less than comforting. Miss Sunadokei Hiyokuna was far from Shuichi's favorite person to work with on a regular basis, all too aware of the dangerous demoness lingering beneath that impressively-built surface. But Shuichi wasn't one to say no to a job; he'd never been, really, ultimately the reason he ended up in such a morally-reprehensible occupation in the first place. And, if nothing else, despite the spike of anxiety that came with Miss Hiyokuna's presence, she had always paid him well, always taken care of him, which was more than he could say about some of the bastards he regularly worked with. [break][break] And so Shuichi sucked up his misgivings, downed a few Klonopin, and stepped out of that far-too-garish-for-his-tastes limousine. [break][break] The trek to that VIP suite was less than eventful, Shuichi's stoic guide offering no reprieve from the droll that was a man who hates large crowds of people walking through a large crowd of people. He'd walked this trail a plethora of times prior, though it had been longer than normal that Sunadokei had called on his services. No one's pissed her off enough to need you, his mind noted, a grimace finding a place on the young physician's features as he weaved through the sea of moving forms, a quick recounting of those previous jobs flashing through his mind. [break][break] He was still musing on the former deeds done in the name of Miss Hiyokuna when his gaze was all-too-filled with that very same form. A faint frown found his features, briefly, as he realized they were similarly dressed in hues of purples and blacks, even sharing the choice of turtlenecks, though his was of the long-sleeve variety and was more black with purple accents than the violet top his companion adorned. [break][break] "An unfortunate byproduct of being a hot commodity," he murmured with some sarcastic, humorless lilt to his tone as he took up a relaxed position before his potential client, some attempt at masking the chaotic rumble of nerves fueling his system as he awaited the offer. A faint smile, far from expressing how uncomfortable he felt, spread across his features as he added, "Nothing personal." [break][break] Luckily Sunadokei didn't seem keen on keeping the pretense of teasing comrades-at-arms up for too long, blessing Shuichi with a quick move to the talk of business. He preferred this; jumping right in, getting the information, finishing the job as quickly as possible. Why waste time with affectionate informalities with someone he had no drive to be affectionately informal with? Even so, he almost wished he'd been given a bit of breathing time before that vial was tossed his way, his brows furrowing for a brief moment before realization struck and they shot up, emeralds finding that buxom figure before him and glinting with confusion. It wasn't often he arrived at the job and was given drugs; normally he was the one administering. [break][break] "My shipments have been coming up light lately..." [break][break] Ah, so it was going to be one of those. [break][break] "... the checkbooks are coming back light. I have reason to believe some of my men are skimming off the top..." [break][break] Shu flinched as that thug snatched back the vial, some annoyed expression crossing his features before he turned his attention back to the woman of the hour and waited patiently for the kicker, for that moment when he'd have to stifle that screaming voice in the back of his head that always tried to remind him that he didn't get into the medical field to hurt people. [break][break] "So tell me darling, do I have your attention so far?" [break][break] Ah, there it was, accompanied by such a dastardly little expression. Shu could have laughed at how perfectly discordant the woman's inner and outer displays were. He knew quite a few psychologists he was sure would find hours-worth of study material in the woman's company. [break][break] "If you didn't have my attention, I wouldn't be standing here," he replied, his tone far too defeated for a man certainly about to make an impressive amount of money. He flashed another smile, confident, if nothing else, in his ability to accomplish whatever task she set him on. "What would you have me do to help, Miss Hiyokuna?" [break][break] God, he hoped the Klonopin kicked in quickly.
Overwhelmed by every little thing; Torn apart, unraveled at the seams; I think it’s rooted in the way I breathe...
Shuichi always wanted to help people. As a kid, he would rush over whenever someone got hurt on the playground and try to patch them up with leaves and sticks, mimicking what he’d seen his physician parents do. As an adolescent, he was always the first to volunteer to help his classmates or to show the new students around the schoolyard. As a teen, he volunteered with the school nurse on top of his student council responsibilities, helping out around the clinic and at sports events. As a young adult, he graduated top of his class and was an early applicant to some of the best medical schools in Japan. [break][break] Yes, Shuichi always wanted to help people, always wanted to be a support, a friend, a go-to. He wanted to live up to the long, impressive shadow cast by his parents, both famed Japanese medical officials. He always wanted to be better, always wanted to do his best, always wanted to be someone his little sister could look up to. [break][break] And then he hit medical school. [break][break] And he realized how bad he was at dealing with real, in-your-face stress. [break][break] And so Shuichi Morita, prodigal son of the Morita medical clan, moved through his MD program with a smile on his face, a cheery disposition, and an ever-growing need for excessive validation and pills to numb his stress. Self-prescription is a hell of a drug and it didn't take long for addiction to kick in, Shuichi's practiced eye catching the signs but being helpless to stop it. [break][break] What made it worse was the proposition the elder Drs. Morita brought to him when he’d finally graduated. Apparently the family business included far more than just serving the public; Papa and Mama Morita had joined up with the Aijiwau, working as narcotic suppliers and medically-licensed torturers for the elites they wined and dined at all of those grand parties during his childhood. And of course Shuichi said yes, of course he agreed to join in the “fun,” because he’s a helper, a pleaser, an anxiety-riddled mess with enough knowledge of the human anatomy to keep a high-ranking politician alive while they chase the dragon and an Aijiwau traitor fully cognizant and aware of the torture being administered to him as punishment. [break][break] And so the anxiety has gotten worse, the narcotic abuse with it, Shuichi’s form constantly filled with some horrific cocktail of debilitating self-doubt, nerve-wracking guilt, and the constant need for verbal confirmation that he’s not a disappointing failure. He hates what he does and he hates what he does to people, but he’s better at it than most, and what wasted potential he would be if he used those skills for anything else. [break][break]
Appearance Notes
Height: 5'9" [break] Eye Color: Emerald green [break] Hair Color: A dyed salmon, some half-way point between pink and orange
