A Match Into Water (Okami)

The sky exploded with a cacophony of colors. Screams rang out in the chilly night air as countless people rushed the city streets, shouting and roaring with… excitement. Tonight was the night of a big concert for the residents of Karakura, but none was more excited than a fresh man named Bartholomew. God, that was just the worst name. He hated it so much that he couldn’t even deal. Why would anyone name their kid Bartholomew? It was just so… stupid. That was why the Obscurum decided to undertake the moniker Demon when he was very young, and he ran with it ever since. Floating among the clouds on a platform of spiritual energy that was collected beneath his feet, he watched the people scurry like ants.

It didn’t matter how fast they ran or how excited they were. They’d never have the view he had. Still, Demon found it was a little distant for his taste. As he passed the tops of sky scrapers, his arms folded over his chest in an effort to protect himself from the nip of the wind, he began to descend. Of course, he had a ticket, so he may as well join the people. Blithering idiots that they were. Touching the ground with his polished, black dress shoe, the perhaps overdressed quincy, his cross dangling from his ear as it always did, disappeared into the crowd. Flashing his ticket, he was given admittance into the stadium.

”Mic Check, One Two. Mic Check, One Two.” The lead singer’s voice, once heard, caused an eruption of euphoria from the crowd. Demon himself let out a whoop and holler, losing himself in the excitement. Finding an open space in the crowd near the front (or rather, making one by flaring his reiatsu to sicken the people around him a little into giving him some space), he stared intently as the band members tested their equipment. This was going to be so fucking awesome.

Suddenly, an announcer appeared on stage. Taking a hold of the microphone, he raised his hand without saying a word to entice the audience into roaring again. It worked. ”Alright, alright. Now presenting, without a moment of further hesitation, make some noise for…” He took a step back and the lead singer took the mic from him and screamed at the top of his lungs. ”PIERCE THE VEIL!” The guitarist stroked his six-string with a mighty riff, and the drummer took off. Demon screamed again. His blood pumped inside of his body so quickly he thought he was going to have a heart attack. It practically boiled. They were opening with his favorite song. They were opening with his favorite song. What were the odds?

Waka's eyes opened groggily, the aggressive sound of Post-Hardcore arousing him from a drunken sleep. He rubbed his eyes, glancing about with a blank expression on his face. Ah? He stood slowly, searching for balance on his nonsensical sandals. Despite his intense hangover, he moved as skillfully as ever once bearings were found. He now assessed his surroundings more acutely; Waka's awareness of his environment was typically uncanny, but his wild night prior to now hindered that ability. The Post-Hardcore that awoke him sounded somewhat familiar, but he wasn't completely acquainted with it. The sea of mostly stereotype-fitting punks roared in excitement, a fair portion singing along. Waka turned to one of them and tapped him on the shoulder. " 'SCUSE ME, WHAT’S GOING ON HERE? " Waka shouted in order to remain audible, but was still polite. The young man leaned in closer to hear, and then shouted back, " PIERCE THE VALE. " Waka smiled and nodded, mouthing the word "thanks". He had heard of the band, actually, they were from his hometown, though it wasn't his typical cup of joe. The young man returned the nod and became absorbed into the music once again. Waka's smile quickly faded. How long was I asleep..? He frowned. Come to think of it, when did I fall asleep? Finally shrugging, he drew a flask, filled to the brim with sake, from within his bright pink kosode. " If I can’t remember, I suppose it wasn't important. " He muttered to himself.

Waka raised the flask to his lips, but paused when he noticed a faint, unfamiliar reiatsu among the massive crowd. His curiosity prompted him to seek out the emitter; it felt somewhat human. He drained the flask of its contents, before tossing it aside as if it were worthless. Waka began to part the crowd, making his way towards the source with surprising ease.

Despite his best efforts, there appeared to be someone heading for Demon without any sign of slowing or sickness. He could put more reiatsu into it, of course, but that wouldn't help anyone. If this person was actually trying to get to him, he should let them. Maybe it was important. Still... Lowering the spiritual pressure he was exuding, the crowd suddenly seemed to swallow him up (save a small, personal bubble he just couldn't see to let go). The song ended. Looking back up at the band with his reid eyes, Demon grinned. In the Darkness, Music was a friend. The heavier, the better. Sheer volume and a rapid tempo created an echolocation for those that were listening for it.

But here, out in the open, it was just fun. Clearing his throat, the lead singer let out a scream that rose the hair on Demon's neck. Excellent. Every reason for his existence, every fiber of his being, swayed to the beat of the song. Immersing himself in the music, Demon allowed himself to rock out, revealing a portion of his personality, a fun-loving and enjoyable side of his personality, that many people didn't get to see. There was just something about the songs that this band played. Of course, none of their older stuff, but the newer, especially from their latest album, really set his heart off.

A sudden glimpse of his pursuer, and Demon was at full alert. Both hands held a strong concentration of black reiatsu, a thick liquid condensing from the energy, seeping onto his skin in the form of ink. Swirling over the surface of his flesh, it slithered along until it reached the place it always did when he called upon this power. Sunrise Crush. The image of a hammer smashing through a sun appeared from the black ink, just behind his left shoulder. It wouldn’t be seen, but it would be there. However, he sensed no hostility in the glimpser’s reiatsu. He wasn’t under attack. Shaking off the energy from his hands, he scanned the crowd.

Seeing everyone in the world expect for the one he wanted to, he closed his eyes and searched instead for reiatsu patterns, looking for the one of the man he saw glimpsing, but he didn’t really have a lot to go on. Suddenly, it was obvious. The one he was looking for was telling him where he was. So, the Stranger did seek a meeting with him after all. Keeping his sunrise crush tattoo, Demon began moving his way through the crowd, a constant wave of reiatsu parting the people before him like a great sea. Standing around ten feet from him, Demon slid his hands into his pockets and increased the range of his reiatsu, giving them a wider range to speak in.

”Are you looking for someone in particular or just curious?” Demon hated wasting time with conversation unless it was about something especially important to him. He’d see what this man wanted and decide whether it was worth his time to bother with him or go back to the concert. Raising an eyebrow expectantly as he waited for the answer, the young Obscurum began nodding his head to the beat of the song that radiated from around them as every member of the crowd who could sang along at the top of their lungs.

Demon shrugged. He supposed that made sense. Crossing his arms, his head still bobbed along to the beat of the songs playing, slowing down slightly as a softer melody filled the arena. "My name is Demon Obscurum, Quincy. " The Obscurum had been watching. He saw the new person reach for his waist, and the tattoo on his back pulsed, ready to activate. Suddenly, though, the man stopped, and dropped his hand. Deciding that no further action had to be taken, Demon allowed the tattoo to simmer back down into an inactive state. If he needed it, it would be there, but until then, he was good.

"But a good introduction is always followed by another. You know my name, now I'd like to know yours." Demon didn't really feel like he had an enemy on his hands here. Hopefully, he'd be able to go back to the concert sometime soon without any real trouble. He'd hate to break up the music with combat. Still, if it came down to it, and Demon had to fight, he was prepared to show no mercy on the figure who ruined his vacation.

Demon returned the bow, though it was a little stiff. His eyebrow raised a little at the self-inflating comment, but he didn't say anything. "Waka it is." Bartholomew Obscurum was the first person to understand modifying your name for ease and personal affinity. But then, the man said something that surprised him. He didn't know what a Quincy was? Huh. Strange. He supposed that there weren't many of them around, and if this guy had no access to any form of records from the past, then it made sense that he didn't know of him.

"A Quincy is human, flesh and bones just like a Fullbringer, which I assume you are. If I'm wrong and you're in a gigai or something, I apologize. But yes, Human. Unlike most spiritual beings, who produce their own reiryoka, a Quincy can take them from the atmosphere around them and channel them into weapons and ammunition. A simple way to look at it is like this. A Shinigami is a Laptop with the battery in, but no charger. A Quincy is a laptop with no battery, but a charger. We are the protector's of mankind from much darker beings." And that was all he was going to say. The music was really starting to get to him, and his headbob had increased to an almost seizure-like drop. Besides, the Quincy past was too dark for casual conversation.