(no subject)

[vivememorleti]

Kisuke hasn't been completely neglectful of the people that he knows need most to avoid the Grand Fisher, although he has certainly been neglectful, and he would not even for a minute excuse himself for it. But the price of the information he'll gather is worth the price on his soul -- better a person with as foul a background as himself than someone who deserves to keep their reputation. Or is that an excuse?

Either way, he knows a young lady who needs the tip, and he knows where to find her -- thanks to the fact that she is wearing his merchandise.

He finds her shortly after she leaves work, and waits on a bench beneath a lamp-post on her path home, on an otherwise abandoned street, leaning against the back of the seat with one foot folded over the opposite knee and his heavy wooden sandal dangling from long toes. He doesn't think she will pass him by without stopping. His presence can't be taken as a coincidence. Wisely, it never can.

The weather is excellent. It would be better if the air felt less sinister lately.

Comments

[willowed]

The soft murmurs throughout the city haven't escaped Nuriko entirely. Even before she can put words to the phenomenon passing through town, Nuriko feels it, a shiver down her spine as a dank wind rushes against the nape of her neck. Sensations difficult to describe, but impossible to deny, that leave her rushing home at a clipped pace and eager to rush to the safety of Rin's arms.

Today, it looks like her plans are about to be delayed. Were Nuriko more stubborn, she might pass by Urahara without a second glance, forcing him to speak up.

But she owes him too much — a debt that runs far deeper than the price of the body she wears now.

"Should I be afraid?" she asks as she approaches, a thumb hooked around the strap of her purse, heavily draped over a shoulder.