thenearshore | KINYOBI is open for business!

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KINYOBI is open for business!

Who: Gojyo and anyone!
What: Drinking, fighting, insulting this disgusting bar...
When: Any time from August 9th through the end of August
Where: KINYOBI, in Musashino, Tokyo, Japan
Warnings: Please put warnings in the headers of your comments as they become relevant.

1. Friday nights at Friday's
Kinyobi is a small, dark bar, located on a street that was never nice, not even when the plant across town was open. This is an industrial area, and this used to be a blue-collar, industrial bar -- the floors are permanently sticky, there's dents and gouges and names carved in every wooden surface, the restroom is a horror movie, and the booze is either watered down or rotgut, depending on the day of the week and the mood of the bartender.

Still. It's home.

2. Shinki Sundays
Gojyo looks up when the bell on the door chimes, and smiles broadly at the newcomer. "Hey, come on in!" he calls. "You're shinki, right? Lemme see your mark."

3. Wildcard?

And some images to give an idea of what the inside of Kinyobi looks like:

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Edit as of October 6th, in-game: there is now a bar dog.

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It's been a few days since Tsuzuki started helping out around the dive bar. He'd been nervous walking here the first day -- the alleys are very dark, and the closed-down plant down the street stripes the sky with skeletal lines of chimneys and bundles of wires. It's like a dark indie comic of a setting.

On the other hand, no one can actually see him, which is a reassuring feeling.

He's been working on the probably futile task of scrubbing all the stickiness out from under the old bar tables and booths, at least before the evening rush arrives and he starts helping Gojyo serve, and it's still late afternoon and quiet in the bar when he heads back to the storage room to mix another bucket of floor cleaner.

Something rattles in the back of a shelf, and Tsuzuki makes a face. Not rats, too. Surely this place doesn't have rats. He reaches out with care and as quietly as he can whisks aside a pile of stained bar towels. The thing behind them isn't furry. It's not even, as far as he can see, alive.

It's a big, old, green-glass bottle of sake, with a handwritten label, and it's rocking back and forth like something's trapped inside.

Carefully, Tsuzuki reaches out and grabs it. It keeps struggling and shuddering in his grasp as he turns it carefully over, and the liquid looks -- well -- just like liquid. Maybe a bit dark and cloudy for sake. It's an old bottle, that much is for sure.

"Hey!" he calls out into the bar. "Gojyo? What's this?"

When the bar served the plant (or so Gojyo's been told), the evening rush started six minutes after the 6pm bell sounded. Now that the bar caters to lost salarymen, kids looking to sneak a drink somewhere that doesn't card, tourists seeking that 'authentic experience', and dead people, the evenings don't really get underway until much later. And for 'underway', read 'any customers at all'.

Which means that, while Tsuzuki is scrubbing at the tables, Gojyo is performing the requisite sniff test on all the juices and other mixers as he pulls them out of the groaning old mini-fridge under the bar. It was easier running the place when all they served was booze, but the people on the internet had been right -- having mixers, and even non-alcoholic options, was good for the bar, even if it did mean more work for him.

"What's what?" The last orange juice is questionable -- that fizz probably isn't club soda -- so Gojyo upends it in the sink and sticks his head through the doorway in the back. "If it looks like a pile of..." His voice trails off, and he frowns at the bottle Tsu is wiggling at him.

"Oi, oi, don't shake it!" The bottle looks old enough that the booze inside is either valuable or disgusting. Either way, he doesn't want to see it dropped on the floor. He holds out his hands for the unfamiliar bottle. "Where'd you find it?"

"Back of the shelf behind the towels," Tsuzuki says. "And I'm not shaking it, it's--"

It's not shaking on its own anymore. He stares down at the bottle sitting still in his hands, makes a face, and holds it out.

"... it was shaking on its own. Maybe it's haunted." The suggestion could have been facetious, but after the last couple weeks of being attacked by formerly inanimate household objects, Tsuzuki sounds completely sincere.

None of them have chased him to the Near Shore yet, but it might just have been a matter of time.

"Don't joke about that," Gojyo deadpans, turning the bottle over in his hands. Tsu might be taking the threat seriously, but Gojyo sure isn't. This is the mortal world, not the Far Shore! Ghosts here are all glowing purple, and this bottle is many things, but it's neither glowing nor purple. It looks like a perfectly normal, albeit old and dirty, bottle of... what, sake?

"If we get haunted now it's your fault." The label is nearly rubbed off, but it could be a sake bottle. It could absolutely be a bottle of very old sake.

But there's really only one way to find out. Gojyo turns, and peers back out into the bar. Still no customers. They've got the place to themselves.

Good.

"Wanna grab a couple glasses?"

"I'm not joking!" But the bottle's stopped moving, and is sitting peacefully in Gojyo's grip as he looks it over. Maybe Tsuzuki was seeing things. Maybe there was some kind of... fermentation... thing. Like if the pressure was too high, and there was a little leak somewhere in the seal making it jolt around--

Can that happen? He has no idea, but it sounds plausible enough to allay his fears of ghosts. Besides, he's curious.

"... Anyway," he says, "sure. If we get haunted, it's your fault, because I warned you."

The pressure might be too high at that, because the cap doesn't want to come out. It's just a cork with some wax, but the wax is both greasy and crumbling with age (which is seriously disgusting), and the cork doesn't want to wiggle at all.

Gojyo gives up cranking it with his right hand, and switches to his left, tucking the bottle half under his arm and twisting at the cork with everything he's got. "It's already a bar for dead people," he grits out. Shit, that cork is really wedged in there! This is some divine strength wax or something! "Ghosts would just be..."

He doesn't get to finish his statement. The wax finally gives way with a sick -- and upsettingly flatulent sounding -- pop, and the blast of something purple and glowing from the neck of the bottle sends Gojyo slamming back into the shelving behind him.

And then there's dogs. Or things like dogs. Purple, shiny, definitely ayakashi dog things, and lots of 'em. Everywhere.

"Oh shit."

"Oh, shit!" Tsuzuki gasps, jolting backwards into the shelves on the other side of the storeroom in a reflexive attempt to get some space between himself and all those dog things.. It's not a big storeroom. It's just barely big enough for two men and a bunch of cluttered shelves, and the ayakashi crowding the place are leaving both of them with no way out that doesn't involve getting blighted half to death.

Or actually eaten. His panicked gaze shifts from the ayakashi to the door to Gojyo back to the door, and he swallows.

"--Okay, so," he says, in a voice a nervous half-octave higher than usual. "If we shove 'em out, and cast a borderline across the door, and you text your god to come help..."

The nearest dog-spirit lifts its head, muzzle curling back from a mouthful of bright, shiny white teeth, and sniffs the air. It turns its head just a little further to fix Tsuzuki with one yellow eye, and whispers in a clotted, inhuman voice, You smell tasty.

"Yeah," Gojyo's nodding, but he's barely hearing what Tsu's saying. That's a pack of ayakashi wolves, and they look like they're starving. His own wide-eyed gaze flicks from wolf to wolf to Tsukuzi to... to the front door.

Oh shit there's going to be people -- shinki people -- coming in any minute for drinks, and they're gonna get eaten. Shit.

His brain spins. "No, wait." He takes a second to scan the wolves again. None of them are standing inside anything. They're not ghosts -- they're more solid than that. "The other way 'round. We trap 'em in here, then slam the door." How they're gonna do that, though, he's got no idea.

Tsuzuki shoots Gojyo a quick, panicked glance, stepping back from the dog spirit. It advances, long, purple brush of a tail flicking with interest.

"How do we get out?" The wolves are between them and the door. He heals, but that doesn't help blight, and if they get swarmed and eaten, he's almost completely sure neither of them are going to come back from it. There's not even enough room in here to cast a borderline without wrecking something.

He's definitely open for ideas, though. The wolf advances another step. Tsuzuki's shoulders hit the shelf behind him, and he perforce stops.

"Nice doggy. Nice doggy."

[It's been a few days. Gojyo's done some stupid things but- as far as Sharak is aware- he hasn't actually killed anyone. Nor has he exploded into some kind of blight monster. All in all, Sharak is prepared to call it a win. She hadn't really planned on holding Gojyo to that night of free drinks, but it could be a nice end to the week. She'd have hope that maybe she could have an evening drinks with a friend and have it be mostly peaceful, but something she found earlier in the day told her otherwise. They're due for a talk.

Still, it's time to take the kid gloves off. When Sharak enters the bar just as the sun sets, there's a lit cigarette dangling from her lips. In the interest of attracting as little attention as possible, she's dressed in casual clothes for a change. Jeans and a button down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up and the first few buttons undone.]

Oi! Gojyo!

[... Okay, even out of uniform, the magic has to work pretty hard for a woman like Sharak to go unnoticed. Even if she had bothered to remove the tail, it probably wouldn't have made a difference.]

The doggy is not nice. The doggy is drooling all over the floor in a very not-nice sort of way.

"We get out..." Gojyo's hair is whipping back as forth as he desperately examines the shelving and walls (and floor, and ceiling) for answers.

The ceiling is just sagging, water-stained plywood that's been painted over with a few layers of thin plaster. They could bust through it easily, but then wouldn't the wolves just follow? Gojyo's gaze darts to the door again, and he takes another step back (or tries to, anyway -- the shelving doesn't budge). If that can get out through the ceiling, then one of them runs around to the front and slams the door? That only leaves the hole in the ceiling to seal with a borderline.

Which is good, because only one of them can cast a damn borderline. At least, Gojyo sure hopes one of them can.

"I hope you've had all your shots," he mutters. The ceiling's got to be full of rusted nails and mold and who knows what else. None of this is going to be fun. He reaches out blindly, never taking his eyes off the wolves, and sweeps an armful of bottles and cleaning supplies and god knows what else onto the floor between them and the ayakashi. The wolves start at the noise, then snarl -- they're close enough that Gojyo could smell them, if ayakashi had a smell. "Climb the shelves, quick! Get to the top!"

"What?"

The doggy is not at all nice. The doggy, as Tsuzuki takes his eyes off it to stare at Gojyo in bewilderment (he can't be serious, can he? Are those shelves going to take their weight?) lunges for him and closes its jaws on his leg. He yells, kicking at it frantically until it lets go and backs away. The pain of torn flesh is sharp and hot, with a sullen acid burn of blight.

And his pants are completely ruined. So's the storeroom going to be, he thinks, in no time at all at this rate -- even if they don't knock the shelves down trying to climb out of ayakashi-wolf-reach.

Well, fuck it. He slashes a hand down, shouting, "Line!" The borderline that blazes up between them and the wolves is almost transparent blue-white, and it cuts through three shelves and the paw of one ayakashi who was getting just a bit too close to Gojyo. That wolf recoils with a pained canine howl, limping backwards on three feet with its wounded foot tucked up to its chest. The severed shelf-ends topple sideways with an almighty crash of wood, old and new cleaning supplies, and something that had been made out of glass but, luckily, doesn't add to the pack of ayakashi when it smashes loudly under the shower of debris.

Shit. "Hold that line!" Gojyo shouts, scrambling up the shelving to Tsu's left. The shelves creak and sway, but they seem to be holding. How well they'd do with two full grown men on them is anybody's guess, but Gojyo's hoping to avoid having to do that kind of math today.

He's really strong. He's discovered that about himself already, but it's still amazing how smoothly his fist goes through the plywood of the ceiling. The rain of dust and filth that erupts when he pulls his fist free makes him sneeze, but he shakes it off and punches up again, yanking at the edge of the plywood to try and make a hole big enough to climb through. The shelves creak again, ominously.

"Almost through! You still okay?"

"Fine," Tsuzuki calls hoarsely back between fits of coughing. There is a lot of dust up there, and he's got plywood bits stuck in his hair and showering down the back of his shirt. And, what's worse, his leg still hurts. Is it just the blight? Or is it not healing? He grits his teeth, free hand clenching as he holds the borderline against the ayakashi. Two of them are pacing, sniffing at its edge. One bares those creepily white teeth, crouches, and hurls itself at the center of the line, only to bounce off with a yelp.

What's Gojyo's plan? Are they both going to climb up into the ceiling? The shelves are creaking already, and the ceiling had crumbled way too fast under a punch.

On the other hand, Tsuzuki's sock is squishing with blood and there are a lot of ayakashi waiting between them and the door. Maybe they'll be able to barricade the ayakashi in here after all, if they drop down behind the bar and come at them from the front.

It's not like he can think of anything better right now.

The aggressive ayakashi flings itself at the borderline again. Tsuzuki can feel the impact rattling his molars.

"You can hurry up though," he calls, voice a little higher-pitched with nerves.

He thought that demand was a bit...well, a bit. from the instance he heard about it on the net. "Is a borderline fine? You know our marks are part of our names, right? Some people're not comfortable with sharing it." Considering the name is required for some spells, it's not exactly a surprise.

So, this is what a bar is like? This was probably Botan's first real trip into the city, if you didn't count the short visit to get rid of some cursed charms. So following the directions to Kinyobi let her get a first-hand look at many different things- especially when she had flown her way over. Glancing over at the bartender, her magenta eyes locked over to his, though more curious than anything else.

"I mean, I could," her hands go to grab the bottom of her shirt, crumpling the hem in her fingers. "Though I'd have to lift my shirt up pretty high for you to see. If that's what you really want."

"Working on it!" he hisses back, coughing through a lungful of dust. One more good handful of plywood and foam and god knows what else rains down, and finally the hole in the ceiling is big enough to squirm through.

Here's hoping it's strong enough to support his weight.

"I'm gonna climb up in here then pull you up, okay?" he calls over his shoulder, feeling through the hole for something sturdy. There's got to be beams in here, right? ...Ah, yes, there. That's solid wood. With a grunt he hoists himself up; the space is crowded with beams and wires and pipes and shreds of insulation, but he's skinny for a big guy. He can fit.

And he would have fit, had the beam not crumbled in his hand from dry rot. With a yelp Gojyo falls, bringing a big chunk of the ceiling with him.

Tsuzuki's been drilling his borderline practice. Tsuzuki has, in fact, gotten pretty good at it: he seems to have a natural aptitude for the kind of focused mental effort that goes into creating and sustaining that barrier. Or training, but he tries not to think about that too hard.

He's fairly sure, though, that no shinki in the Heavens could have held a borderline with half of a ceiling, and Gojyo, landing on their head.

Gojyo's knees and elbows turn out to be a lot sharper than they look. Tsuzuki goes down in a heap, the borderline fizzles, and three glowing purple wolves leap forward with deadly grace. Swearing, Tsuzuki flails and tries to roll sideways. He's more resilient than Gojyo, even if his leg's still hurting -- that's just the blight, he's sure of it, a bit of water and he'll be fine. He can take a couple of bites.

The teeth that actually do sink into his shoulder, though, hurt. A lot. His curse breaks off into a pained squeak, and he winces through the dust and the darkness -- oh, shit, did the light go when Gojyo fell through the ceiling, too? He thinks it did, or there's more plaster dust in his eyes than it feels like there is.

"Call for help!" he manages to croak out, and, not caring about the blight to his hand, tries to punch the wolf worrying his shoulder away. He misses.

The light did, in fact, go out. It's a wonder Gojyo didn't electrocute himself -- that ceiling is not up to code.

His head is pounding -- shock of the fall aside, he's inhaled enough crap from that ceiling that he's going to be wheezing for a week -- but there isn't time to recover. The wolves are on Tsuzuki, they've got no god, no way of holding them back. He can't fight them off -- he swings (as much as he can from his position still half-kneeing in the rubble) but all he manages to do is blight the hell out of his hand. And he's got no phone. It's behind the bar, where he leaves it for safekeeping while working.

"I can't!" he shoots back, throwing out his hands in desperation. He can't cast a borderline -- he's never had the concentration for it, and he knows as he tries that it's a futile effort. But what else can he do?

There's a flash of light, and nobody is more surprised than Gojyo at the nearly seven foot staff that appears in his hands. For a long second, he just stares at the object in his hands. What in the world...?

But it's a weapon, and that's just what he needs! He swings the nearest blade around, jabbing at the wolf attacking Tsu. The crescent blade crashes through the shelving like... like a hot knife through really cheap plywood shelving, and Gojyo changes tactics to smacking the wolf with the spade blade instead. "Get off! Get back!"

There's a flash of light, and Tsuzuki manages to inhale a lungful of crappy plaster and dry-rotted sawdust when he gasps in surprise. He hacks, chokes, and curls into a rib-rattling cough as the wolf, swatted by the metal -- shovel? Spear? What is that thing? -- releases his shoulder and backs off. The other two are backing away behind it, watching the weapon in Gojyo's hand with a wariness that's beyond mere animal fear.

Ayakashi really freak him out. Tsuzuki wipes his good hand over his mouth, leaving a dirty streak on his cheek but clearing the worst of the mucus from his lips, and rolls up to his knees. His other arm's hanging limp from a mauled shoulder, and he can't move it without stabbing pain, but it'll heal. They'll be fine. Gojyo's next to him and he's got a weapon.

... Gojyo has a weapon.

Halfway through fumbling his phone out of his pocket with one hand to place a frantic post for help, Tsuzuki shoots him a disbelieving glance. The back storeroom's messy, sure, but it's not messy enough that he'd miss something like that.

"Where'd you get that thing?"

Tsuzuki's hurt pretty bad, from what Gojyo can see (he's not taking his eyes off the wolves long enough to really check, but there's a lot of blood, enough that he can smell it). He's still moving, though, and from the sound of things is able to get to his phone. That's good. He'll call for help and then help will come and this can go from life-threatening to simply embarrassing.

"It just appeared!" He jabs at the nearest wolf again, the blade slicing painfully into the purple-red flesh. The wolf snarls with rage, shaking its head and back up just out of range of the staff... but none of the three are going anywhere.

That's good, right? They've got their attention. At least they aren't trying to leave the bar. ...Yay?

"Maybe this is why I couldn't cast borderlines, huh? I got the offensive shinki power instead of the defensive one!" But it's not time to brag -- there will be time for bragging later, but now is really not the time. "You callin' your god?"

The wolves aren't going anywhere, and that's good, because it means they're not going to attack anyone else coming in. It's also bad, because there's no way the two of them are getting out of the storeroom now.

Tsuzuki tests his leg. It hurts, but it hurts like blight and not like it'd been chewed on, even with the blood chilling on his pants and sticking the fabric to his leg hair. He can put his weight on it with no problem, and he does, standing slowly.

Sakura, here, fighting a pack of wolf ayakashi? He cringes at the thought.

"She's not a fighter and I turn into a spoon." He'd been thinking of posting a general cry for help -- but what if no one's checking the BBS? What if it scares off their customers, just when the place is starting to get a little busier?

He swallows. "What's your god's number?"

"Sharak?" Shit, if Sharak finds out about this he'll never hear the end of it! "You can't just...?"

The lead wolf -- the wound on its face already healed -- lunges forward, great jaws snapping and spattering Gojyo with stinging, blight-raising spittle. He curses fluidly under his breath and swats the wolf back with the sharp edge of the blade. The little pain caused by the blade isn't going to hold them back for long, he notes grimly, and mentally gives in.

"She's in the index," he offers at last, defeated. "Sharak Sanzo, with the sha for gauze." If the wolves want to eat him before she shows up to save his ass, he'd really be okay with that.

Oh. He's one of those. Gojyo dismisses his concern with a wave of his hand.

"Yeah, yeah... cast a borderline if you don't want to show your name mark, whatever." Some people might have embarrassing names, but he doesn't understand the straight-up hostility he's gotten from some shinki over this. It's just a name! "Just prove you're not a god, okay?"

Did she really just say...? Oh shit. Gojyo straightens up in a flash, waving his hands frantically to dissuade her.

"That's fine, that's fine! You don't need to...!" There's no way she's of age, shit, he's going to get fired and go to hell both. "Just promise you aren't a god, okay? That's good enough."

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KINYOBI is open for business!

1. Fridays

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Sanzo Saturday

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Shinki Sunday

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