... When along came a spider. [Kitsuné]

[Ciroton]

OoC: Here it is. Although, I'm feeling a bit under the weather and could not come up with a better title.

BiC:
Morning dew shined on the long grass from the rays of the newborn sun, the earth just starting to awaken from its night’s slumber. High in the trees that dwarfed the grass sounded the song of Blue birds, rejoicing that day had come at last. All manner of life began to stir, including unwanted monsters and other feral beasts.

However, none of this came to the people travelling on the road that cut through the forest and past the early morning majesty. Once a hunting trail, the ancient path gave way not to both men and beast, but to masses of metal moving at great speeds, all of them in a rush to get nowhere. Among these so-called marvels of technology drove a bus, hurtling through the serene forest like every other vehicle that came this way.

Not unlike many of the other passengers slept a man, exhaustion having caught up with him hours before. Even the gentle bumps and vibrations from the engine could not wake him or the other people sleeping. However, as the bus passed a clearing in the trees, the morning sun shined in through the opposite window and onto his face, nature giving the man a gentle wake-up call.

Turing his head to not be blinded, the man slowly opened his eyes and took in the deciduous forest for the first time. All drowsiness left the man immediately upon waking; surly he would be at the next stop in his mission. Keeping his head low to avoid the blinding sunlight, the man opened the small bag beside him and drew a cellular phone.

Opening the phone, he turned it on to see what time it was. Despite the intense glare on the screen, the man could make out the numbers that said 7:34am. “Good,” spoke the man for the first time since waking. “We should almost be there.”

So, the man sat there, watching the road, and waiting for the other passengers to wake up so he could do something more interesting. Alas, four hours later, the bus was pulling in to the stop in a small village about a mile off the highway.

“Village of Jalson,” spoke the bus driver through the speakers.

With that, the man hurriedly grabbed all of his belongings and disembarked from the bus after thanking the driver. Apparently, Jalson was supposed to be a friendly and lively village that always welcomed visitors. However, as the bus pulled away and the man got a good look around, there was not a soul to be seen. “That’s odd,” wondered the man aloud as he reached for his phone. After pressing a few buttons a sonar-like display came up on the screen, dozens of little dots all over it.

“There are people here … but no one seems to be outside,” said the man before putting the phone back in his pocket. Maybe someone died and this is part of the mourning process? The man thought as he walked to the inn.

As he opened the door to the inn’s lobby a small bell jingled to signal his arrival. The reception room was quite handsome, oak and teak wood furniture along with other various items, and a bright red area carpet in the centre surrounded by maple planks. Over all, the room looked like a cabin one would find up north. However, no one was at the desk, nor was anyone waiting around to be served.

Suddenly, a man with a large shotgun jumped out from behind the counter shouting, “I’ll be damned if you take another visitor you damn dirty monster!” Reacting instinctively, the man drew a small handgun from its holster and pointed it at the man with the shotgun. However, the receptionist seemed to have come to his senses when he dropped the gun and threw himself at the floor in front of the man.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I thought you were … never mind,” sobbed the clerk.

“It’s okay, I guess I did kind of drop in unannounced,” said the man as he holstered the gun. “I have a reservation here and I thought I’d check in.”

“A customer!? You must be Kazuya Hayashi!” The receptionist said with glee. “You’re the first person in over a month to make a reservation, so of course I would remember your name,” added the man after seeing the look of confusion and surprise on his face.

“Yep, that’s me,” said Kazuya with a smile.

“A million apologies, Mr. Hayashi. I’ll check you in then show you to your room.” Sure enough, ten minutes later Kazuya was in his room, thanking the inn’s owner who was also the man who tried to shoot him. After the man left, the Shinigami threw himself on the bed and looked at the wooden ceiling. “I wonder what he meant by monster?” Kazuya asked himself as he waited for the lunch hour to roll by.

[Kitsuné]

OoC: Sadly, this is the best my creativity could muster.

IC:

Light bore down heavily towards the village of Jalson; raining a angelic sparkle. A bright light; yes, but not one that would cause any extra irritation to the townspeople. No, they bucket-loads of irritation, horror and sorrow. These three reasons were the sole reason that when a stranger arrived in the town, he’d be utterly confused, go looking for people, and perhaps perish. Due to his curiosity.

A similar thing was happening today in Jalson. A red-clothed stranger arrived in the village; confused, disappointed, annoyed. Well, perhaps he should have turned back? But he didn’t.

“Where the hell is everyone?!” he growled in frustration.

He clutched a pair of chained sticks, and wore an open vest of a vivid red; and harmonious crimson trousers that hugged his waist tightly, hence the reason they hadn’t fallen down yet. He wore nothing on his feet, yet they bore no blisters of marks.

“Jesus Christ!” his high-voice cried out as he eyes scanned the roads.

The streets were empty; stripped of the buzz and bite that one would expect a village of any size to maintain. A tumbleweed rolling about in the winds would not have seemed out of place.

“****, I’ve come here for nothing…” the fighter moaned as he realised how his time had been wasted.

“… I’ll be damned if you take another visitor you damn dirty monster! … ” a distant shout echoed through the tranquillity and silence.

Following his ears, the man began to run towards the inn, where the yell had come from.

Opening the door, he tentatively stepped inside and…

“Gahhhhh!” a fierce scream hammered over the sound of gunshots.

Hastily throwing up a barrier of stone, the visitor crouched low. Bullets ripped through the shield of rock like lightning as the crimson fighter’s mind began to search frantically for ideas. Resting on a suitable one, the man launched himself out from the boulders; blasting lightning at his assailant in mid-air.

The gunman dropped what was now recognisable as a shotgun and fell to his knees.

“I’m so sorry my friend!” he sobbed in hysterics, “I thought you were…” he broke off. “I’ll give you a room for the night!” his eyes glittered as he changed the subject, luckily it was something the red-martial artist needed.

“Okay…” he responded as he lowered his weapon. “You’d better tell me what’s going on tomorrow though.”

“I will!” the clerk replied in fear. “There’s one other man staying here too, though.”

Nodding, the barefooted man grabbed one of the numbered keys the receptionist had offered; and walked towards the door entitled: “Rooms”.

“Wait!” a shout followed him. “What is your name?”

Smiling, the red-clothed fighter responded, “Heishuro Maruchi.”

[Ciroton]

OoC: Didn't want to overcontrol your character until I am more farmiliar with his personality, plus I couldn't think of a go place to good from where I left off.

BiC:
Dust circled carelessly above his head as he lay on the spring mattress. Neglect seemed to spew from the walls of the modest little room, obviously vacant for quite some time. Moreover, after pulling away the curtains from the room’s lone window, he found it boarded up. It was now clear to him that something had spooked the innkeeper to such extreme measures. No wonder why there haven’t been very many guests, Kazuya thought harshly.

Growing tired of the depressing atmosphere, the Shinigami stepped out of the room and began to walk down the hall. The red carpet at his feet complimented the dark finish on the wooden floor and walls, along with the several paintings, the hall was quite handsome.

Suddenly, a gunshot pierced the tranquil silence of the hall in which he stood. Concerned for the safety of the manager, Kazuya dashed to the other end of the hall and down the stairs. Rounding the final quarter, the man stopped short of the door that led into the lobby. Pulling his gun out of his holster, he slowly opened the door just enough so he could see the lobby.

Inside stood a man dressed in red clothing with the innkeeper as his feet. However, the owner seemed to apologising to the man in red, his voice sounding as though he was on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry my friend! I thought you were…”

Again, he cuts off his sentence, thought Kazuya as he holstered his gun. The two exchanged a brief dialogue in which the innkeeper basically gave the man in red a free room for almost blowing his brains out. With their conversation over, the man in red began walking towards the door that the Shinigami stood behind. Well, it’s lunchtime anyway, he reasoned as he opened the door.

“I’m going out for lunch,” Kazuya said, ignoring the man in red. “I’ll be back shortly after, so please don’t try and shoot me again.”

“Of course, Mr. Hayashi,” said the clerk as he walked toward the door. Stepping outside, he was once again met with an eerie silence that seemed to penetrate the soul itself. Shaking off his feelings of discomfort, the third seat began his search for an open restaurant.

[Kitsuné]

OoC: Crappy, short, rushed. Enjoy:

IC:

“Who was that?” Heishuro questioned as soon as the door closed behind the mysterious man.

“Him?” The receptionist confirmed with a sly smile. “Kazuya Hayashi, the first person to book a room in Jalson for months!”

“Why?” Maruchi pounced on this new hint of strange activity in Jalson.

“Well…” eyes darting left and right, the man’s face blushed a furious scarlet. “You should go to your room now, settle in and every-”

“I’ll go see what this Kazuya is like, actually.” Maruchi butted in, cramming his door-key into his belt and belting after the man.

Before he could be stopped, the martial artist had slowed into a walk; as he saw Hayashi walk into what appeared to be a restaurant.

Quickening his pace, he curled his lip in anticipation; and bashed the door open without hesitation.

“Another customer?” a barely male voice rang upon his entry. “This is a strange day, isn’t it?
Heishuro’s gaze was automatically drawn to the owner of the unusually high voice: a bartender wearing a dark blue overall; with long straggling hair.

“What’ll be?” He grinned, before adding a short “Sir.”

“Just a water,” the crimson-warrior responded hurriedly.

Shifting his gaze to the rest of the ‘restaurant’, Maruchi ignored the disappointment of the bartender, and searched for Kazuya.

Through the haze of tables and rooms, this was no easy feat. He wondered aloud why he would seclude himself in a deserted restaurant. Darting through the neat and tidy array, he saw obvious signs of inactivity. Dust, plainness… he wouldn’t have been surprised to see a tumbleweed spinning past, even if it was inside.

“Hey, mister…” Heishuro’s eyes widened as he forgot the name of his pursuit. “Umm… Hayishi?”

Glancing around, the man made no attempt to appear, of respond to Maruchi. Cradling his head in his hands, he slumped into a rusty and dusty chair.

[Ciroton]

OoC: It's not the length that matters, but the quality of a post.

BiC:
With his back toward the door, Kazuya found a seat right by the boarded up window in the deepest public room of the restaurant. Although his mind grew concerned by the skittish villagers of Jalson, he knew there would be no progress made by wondering and day dreaming. Besides, he had skipped breakfast that morning, making him feel famished. Placing his food on the table, he moved it aside to accommodate his feet and pulled out his phone.

Normally, he wouldn’t be so rude as to put his feet on the table, however, given the decrepit state of the restaurant he figured the manager would hardly notice or care that his dirty shoes were on an even dirtier surface. Reaching into his other pocket, the Shinigami withdrew a pair of earphone, intending to listen to the music on his phone while he ate. Satisfied with his surroundings, the man quickly dug into the plate of food now resting in his lap.

Sitting there whit the music coursing into his brain, the man from the inn’s voice could not be heard as he called out for him. However, his smell crept on towards the Arrancar, almost like a silent alarm. As he finished his meal, the overwhelming smell of sweat and leather. Hmm, Kazuya thought. It seems like the man from the inn followed me. I wonder what he could want? Opening his eyes again the man got out of the chair and walked over to the door. Sure enough, there he sat.

At a glance, it looked like the man had fallen asleep, what with his head cradled by both hands while resting on the table. The third seat saw no reason to disturb, especially while he slumbered. Still, he could not help but imagine why he might be following him in the first place. As far as the Shinigami could tell, he hadn’t even drawn his pistol in front of him.

Shrugging it off, at least for now, Kazuya went back to his table, the music still playing on his phone all the while. Reclining once again, his mind drifted back to the terrified population. Hmm … pondered the death god. That man in red seems awfully suspicious. No one has worn that kind of gear for hundreds of years, at least, not commonly. “Bah, I think too much,” stated the man aloud as he sipped some tea he ordered with his lunch.

[Kitsuné]

OoC: This is what you get when you rush me. >>;

IC:

“Why do I even want to find him so much…?” Maruchi mused aloud. “It’s not like I even know him.”

Letting his mind wander… Heishuro began to question this mystery man’s true motives. It’s a little too convenient that there’s only one person openly walking around town, he conversed with himself. I bet he’s got the whole town frightened of him…

Leaning back in his chair, the fighter laughed at his own naiveté; “Hey… Kazuya!” Pausing, he considered if was wasting his breath or not. Just barely deciding on the former, he continued: “I wanna have a little talk with you about what’s been going on ‘round here.”

After mere silence, the elementalist readjusted his mouth to normal, realising the failure of his intimidating voice and accent.

Raising himself off the chair, the red-clothed fight re-began his search for Hayashi.

[Ciroton]

Remaining in his seat with his feet on the table, Kazuya continued to sip his tea in solitude behind the closed door. His mind remained in deep thought, concerned about the population of the village. Many of his comrades, if they were presents, would’ve told him he worried too much. However, something in the back of his head kept telling him that the whole situation reeked of malicious intent.

Even if it had no link whatsoever with his job, the Shinigami could not deny his interest with the village and its people. After all, his captain said he could take as long as he wanted with his current assignment. What harm would an extra week or so do anyway? All right, he thought. I’ll start snooping around after I’m finished lunch.

“Hey, you!” Sounded the voice of the man from the inn. “I want to have a word with you.”

Keeping his attention on his hot cup of tea, the Arrancar gestured for the strange man to take the seat in front of him. Taking another sip while the man sat down in front of him, he could not help but notice how physically fit this guy was, or the black belt he sported. “So, what is it that you want to talk to me about?”

“I want to talk to you about these villagers. There’s something not quite right about them,” spoke the man.

“Wow, you figured it out too? My, what deductive skills you have there,” Kazuya spoke sarcastically. “Come to think of it, we haven’t been properly introduced. My name’s Hayashi Kazuya, or Kazuya Hayashi, it depends on your nationality.” Extending his hand after setting his tea on the table, he awaited his reply.