---

Night fell upon the small Japanese town tucked away in the central mountains of Japan, the cool breeze of the waking Spring undercut the heated tones left behind by the warm day. The smell of flowers still lingered in the refreshing night air, yet those who could see the unseen would feel unease stemming from below the surface. Shadows lurked at every corner and the watchful eyes of those robed in black would take notice, the unwary and the inexperienced would expose themselves and be cut down in the street, and then disappearing like ash in the wind.

Yet those that did not expose themselves, would become a looming threat that could yet be identified. Each night, signs of such would increase in frequency, the shadows that suggested a hidden foe, the leftover carnage of another hunter amidst the town's open streets, and the fear expressed by would-be prey. There was something more than just the usual quarry.

---

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The small Japanese town of Sagamiyama had a population of around 300,000, it was situated somewhere in the Chubu region closer to the Kansai region. It boasted a beautiful mountain view, traditional shrines with history, and an easy trip to Kyoto, Osaka, or Tokyo by shinkansen. It was far enough away from the big city to be a quiet, peaceful town, but also has great access to the amenities and luxuries of those very same things. Truly a gem of a place to live.

Over the last few months however, a select few who had a run-in with death itself, were given a second chance, in exchange their souls and their lives were dedicated to helping the other realm, the afterlife, as substitute Shinigami they would help souls move onto the other world, and slay Hollow who threatened to devour them. Shinigami from the world beyond, Soul Society as they had called it, were there to assist and teach them. When needed for their duties on short notice, they would take a Konpaku that implanted their bodies with an artificial soul to act as their living counterparts, while their skills were needed elsewhere, and after such they would simply return to their normal lives.

Today was peaceful, a day to enjoy, because when night came, these fledgling substitute Shinigami would be forced to embark on a journey that had been forced upon them the moment they accepted the offer. A fate that may affect the three realms.

---

The coffee shop was still packed to the brim when Mitsuaki stepped out into the somewhat warm air of the spring day. Black apron firmly tied around his waist, he just needed a break; a simple five minutes to recuperate, catch his breath and his bearings, and then get back to work. Sure. Why did he even have this job?

To try to have some semblance of a normal life. Right.

It had been a month and a half, if his counts were correct. A month and a half since he had almost died, swallowed up by that monster. Ever since, his life was truly anything but normal. Training, learning how to fight and to defend others, with his newly granted shinigami powers. It had been too much at first, but now, Mitsuaki thought he was finally starting to settle into his new life. His double life. As soon as he had some semblance of hope, though, that he was finally beginning to learn how to live in this new light…

“Why’d it have to be me, Juno? Why couldn’t we have just switched places…” His voice spoke out to no one but the air, doubt clouding every word. Juno would have been perfect for this, he would have excelled at it, Mitsuaki thought. Here he was, struggling to still just grasp the situation of what had happened to him, even when the writing was on the wall everywhere he looked. Hitting his fist against the wall, he regretted it almost immediately.

“Hey!” Mitsuaki jumped as the door banged open, a rather large, angry looking man stepping out. “Mitsuaki! Get your ass back to work!”

“I’m uh…not feeling very good,” Mitsu rubbed at his sore, aching hand.

“Don’t care, get back inside!”

“Think I’d rather throw up,” he hated this job. He hated his boss. He hated the people that came in to get their vanilla latte’s, no whip, extra shots. Why couldn’t they just make coffee at their own damn houses.

“You get back inside or I’m writing you up!” His boss was steaming.

“‘Kay,” Mitsuaki went the exact opposite direction. He didn’t need this job. He could find another job; a job that paid more and didn’t have a horrible boss, or equally horrible customers. The tips weren’t even that good. Steaming, throwing out one curse after the other, Mitsuaki couldn’t help but break into a wide grin when his boss slammed the door behind him as he headed back inside. Leaving the apron on the garbage can, he was free to spend the rest of his day doing anything other than work. Maybe he’d roam around, hit the arcade, or see if anyone he knew was around. Anything but sit in his own head, and wallow in what could have been.

The alarm buzzed. A hand shot out from under the covers. The alarm fell silent. From under the covers a face emerged to stare at the ceiling above. With a barely audible groan the body levered itself upwards to wake up. A glance at her phone told Sara that she didn’t have school today. She could just lay back down and sleep the day away. That sounded ideal. She could just sleep and sleep and sleep and never wake up. In fact, she did lay back down on the futon, considering that course of action. And then she sat straight up as she heard a crash in the kitchen.

That would be her stepmother. The woman worried about her. Sara was even willing to bet that she worried more than her father did. It was … nice, she supposed, if not a little awkward. Sara wasn’t used to people worrying about her. Sara supposed that she could go to the gymnastic gym. There was little opportunity to go during that week and her stepmother had taken the time to find the gym for Sara, before Sara had arrived. That still sounded like too much work and too much effort. She still levered herself out of bed and moved to pack up the futon. The sooner she delt with her stepmother’s worry, the sooner she could be done with it for the day.

*_*

That afternoon saw Sara wandering the streets of Sagamiyama. She was carefully avoiding both a certain flower shop and a certain mechanic’s shop as she looked for a place to ‘buy a treat’ as her stepmother had insisted, she did after gymnastics and pushed a few bills into her hand. That had happened this morning as Sara didn’t eat breakfast. Sara rarely ate breakfast, avoided dinner with her father, stepmother, and two younger half-brothers, and lunch was hit or missed. So, that was another thing that her stepmother worried about. Sara really did want to find a treat to eat, because her stepmother was nice and a good woman, and Sara really didn’t like worrying her, but nothing seemed appealing.

Not for the first time Sara thought about letting the mod soul that she had gotten from that one Shinigami from the candy shop had given her about two months ago just have her body. The few times it had interacted with her family it had interacted with them better than she ever could. She was worried that Tatsuha and Hayasegawa would have problems with that. They had to be watching her. They had known about her drawings after all, and she wasn’t she that she would be able to tell when or how they were watching. Sara giving the mod soul her body seemed like something that would upset them. Not for the first time she wondered why she had said yes to their proposition two months ago. Being a substitute Shinigami hadn’t solved any of her problems and she was still no closer to seeing the places that she saw in her dreams and nightmares. Tatsuha and Hayasegawa kept saying ‘someday’ and that was starting to get frustrating.

Finally, she decided on just getting takoyaki from a stall that didn’t have a long line. There wasn’t much of it so it was easy enough to force down. It didn’t taste bad either and for a moment Sara debated weather or not she should get some more, but no, it was probably time to get home. She had just a little bit of homework to do before she went back to school, and it wouldn’t hurt to work on her Japanese a little bit either. Maybe she could get to bed early. Gymnastics had been strangely exhausting even though Sara hadn’t done much. She could just sleep and sleep and sleep and never wake up. That sounded ideal.

Retirement, Darius decided, was not at all what it was cracked up to be. Four months, since he had handed in his equipment and been left to run free. Two, since he had brushed hands with death, and come out the reaper. He'd been busy enough at first, filing all the paperwork, getting affairs in order, arranging the wedding. Now, with most of both done and settled, he found himself with an overabundance of free time that had gone from relaxing to mind numbing in short order. There were only so many games he could play, and only so much time he could spend sleeping in, before long standing habit and the simple realities of his personality demanded he make himself busy with something productive... At least, something other than the training that had been quietly undertaken, in that world nestled within their own, where spirits ran free of their bodies.

Exercise was an easy place to start, once the wounds across his midriff had sufficiently healed. It filled his mornings well enough- once his fiance went off to work. Weekends has been easy enough, too, once some encouraging words from his soon-to-be wife had nudged him into starting up a self defense class for the young adults and teens in the area. But, that left his afternoons during the week painfully empty, in the hours before she came home. Much to the polite suffering of his neighbors, he had taken up trying to learn guitar, in those hours, settled on his porch with a beat up old acoustic he'd bought in town across his lap, and instructional videos pulled up on his laptop, set in the vacant of the two rocking chairs.

It was there he could be found, fumbling his way through a lesson and gritting his teeth at every muted note or off key pluck, by the wandering youths as they went about their own lives. Darius had been a pleasant enough presence in their varied group training with the shinigami, always encouraging, if a touch loud. He'd made a point of inviting everybody to his little weekend classes, an effort to encourage comraderie and fitness among their growing group of misfit substitutes, as he put it. So too had he declared his door open to them all, whenever they needed it... Though perhaps there were better things to come across than his awful playing. Surely, he would improve with time.

Surely.

Still, if they did decide to make their presence known, he greeted them with a smile, quick to set the instrument aside- otherwise, it seemed unlikely he would notice them at all, so focused on his pained attempts to learn and fill the time.

Anthony "Tony" Adams-Himura

---

Why did i still work here? Tony asked this to himself, in many ways, it was repetitive, just tending some fat japanese appetite. he was walking from his job, ever since the "incident" he had begin to go during the midday, he certainly didn't want to be fling around like a trash bag any time soon.

He mostly tried to avoid his "friends", god knows what were they going to ask him, he could tolerate the mechanic, he seemed like a bit of a chill guy, though, he was loud, very loud. the clerk... we don't talk about her, she's too... familiar, in a way that Tony didn't really liked.

Once he reached his humble house, which i gotta say, it was not. his mother did get themselves a beautiful home, with some modern house aura around it. yet, it wasn't worth the price... it wasn't worth it at absolutely all. but well, another thing from his bone-chilling mother is that she really doesn't care about the price. at all.

"Mom, Dad, I'm home..." Tony said as he entered the house, he found his dad sleeping on the couch, well at least this didn't change when they moved to japan, his dad still has his "work" naps. once he passed his sleeping dad he found his mother drinking coffee on the kitchen. dynamic-wise they were doing whatsover, but you could say that his mother was the "breadwinner" of the house.

"Hello son, how was your job?" She was dry and cold, yet still showing a slight motherly-worry to it, in her own way of course.

"Fine mom, just the same thing all over again... this time midday of course." Tony sat down on one of the chairs of the kitchen, his hands quickly moved to his head, rubbing his hair lightly, he had gotten his blonde from his father, although it wasn't as light as his.

"Hmm... i recomend you should stop dying your hair white, you're already pretty much white in color." His mom took a sip from his coffee before standing up and patting his head like some dog. she has done this since he is a child, and it would waste time to explain how much did Tony hated this.

"I know mom..." He skipped the recomendation, not because he was uncomfortable with it, but because it was tired from the same thing being said at him, it was the 7th time on the week she has told him this, which makes him think it's maybe an order. her tone doesn't really change when she speaks.

Tony's mom. Hanako Himura, was like that. cold and serious, yet a bit different on the inside. it had taken a bit of time for Tony to notice this, even as her son.

She left to her room, leaving Tony in the kitchen alone. after a brief silence, he walked to his room, where he entered it, metting by the posters he had hanged on his walls, he walked pass them into his bed, where he collapsed, not from exhaustion, but because of how bored he was, these were the times where he wished that something would happen, it is weird, he never really likes that, but once he became a substitute shinigami, he has been having these "episodes", where he wishes for something, even slightest, to just happen.

Mikazuki Nakajima

Mikazuki Nakajima was happy. Happy enough to go cycling around town, eager to see his acquaintances in Substitute Shinigami-hood. Considering how he liked cafes, he decided to go for some coffee first and maybe talk with meet Mitsuaki, whom he knew worked in the nearest one.

Bad idea, as he witnessed the older youth walking out of his job in the coffee shop. Somehow, he did not think that Mitsuaki was the one in the wrong. But what should he do to help? Did Mitsuaki even want help? The boy knew that Juno Suzuma's death was one year ago, and he had gleaned enough to know that Mitsuaki had the look of someone who had lost his brother twice.

No, it was not his place to pry; the last time he, Mikazuki Nakajima, did that, he had found out his grandfather was a war criminal. He knew that it was highly irregular, even in these modern times, to side with a Westerner over his own flesh and blood, but Mr. Leonid and his squad did not deserve what had happened to them in that war far back in the last century - A war that still scarred Mr. Leonid and might do so all the way in the afterlife where Shinigami are from.

He cycled to try and look for Sara, finding her having just eaten takoyaki from his favorite takoyaki stall. Stopping his bike for a moment, he watched her go home, half-tempted to approach her, feeling that she needed help, but knowing full well he should not rush to do so - There was a fine line between concern and stalking.

Which was a shame; the two were just one year apart in age. If things had been different... No. It was always too late for regrets.

He decided to cycle over to Mr. Stone's house. Darius was a fun guy and he liked learning from him. Plus the American reminded him of how Mr. Leonid could have been if his grandfather, whose blood he inherited, had not inflicted horrors no one should go through, much less forced to see one's squad be subjected to.

The sound of acoustic music was as familiar as ever...

@WSilversun@LadyAnnaLee@Morgannis@Sho Minazuki

Anthony "Tony" Adams-Himura

---

"Screw it!" he said to himself, he was not going to just lay on his bed and expect something to happen out of thin air, Tony changed his working clothes (the which he didn't even got out of when he came to his house). he got into his "locked in" outfit, a red jacket, combat boots, and black cargo pants. once he changed in this outfit he began to walk out of his room, completely forgetting that in the case of a hollow attack his clothes were going to be those black robes.

"Let's see what's happening outside..." Tony opened the door to the outside of his house. nothing. nothing was happening, this was something expectable, yet why was he... surprised? he really wants something to happen, something to act like he acts, who would Tony be if he wasn't laid-back and just let everyone around him just talk and talk, only talking when he wants...

This, this wasn't healthy, he needs to talk with someone, yet who could be? the cl- nope. so it is the mechanic, fine, he will go. after all his work is to hunt hollows, or at least he understood that. Tony was gifted with this powers for some reason after all, not just to do nothing with them, this was like a job, but without the paying and all.

Once he arrived at the bike shop he noticed a man approaching, he had those clothes, the shinigami ones, he wasn't Ouga, at all, he was, actually who was he?

"Hey!!! who are you?" Tony really did not cared about the people that was around the streets as he shouted this to the man, they looked at him weirded out, what was he doing? they thought. and Tony, in his fashion washed this gazes like a stone in a river, though, this weirdly made him feel a bit good, all the way back on his school he acted quite regular for a teenager, he didn't really talked that much. this didn't apply to his current self. he can scream and still maintain that laid-back actitude.

---

Mindless wandering had driven him towards the bike shop, his mind in another realm entirely. Mitsuaki felt eyes on him at one point, head raising for a moment to scan the area, but the feeling was gone before he found the culprit. It was probably just his boss, cursing him from the cafe he hated.

Maybe he could get a job at that video store down the street; he’d probably have to work late though, if he worked there, and that wouldn’t do. That was the reason the cafe was so promising, the early morning hours being better suited for his extra-curricular activities. Then again, if he overslept and missed his shift, it would be just as bad as having to run out on a night job. Maybe getting a job with Ouga or Shouko would be possible; would they care if he were late for a shift, seeing as how they knew what could possibly go on in the lives of Substitute Shinigami’s.

A voice, practically screaming, pulled him from his thoughts. Jolting, Mitsuaki stood on edge as his eyes swirled around, looking for the man who it came from. Finding Tony, the young man blinked, his eyes shifted to quickly find Bokuto as well, decked out in all of his Shinigami glory.

Had there been a call? Was there a hollow around, were they supposed to be training at this hour? Mitsuaki didn’t remember any sort of training schedule for today.

Either way, the situation needed to be dealt with, before Tony did something that he would regret.

“Hey, Dingus!” Mitsuaki drew closer to Tony, hissing out. “Quiet down,” eyes narrowing, he glanced towards Bokuto as he stepped up closer to his substitute comrade, the one currently in a real body. “You know people can’t see him, right?” A hand raised to motion towards Bokuto, a slight wave that would look natural to people watching them; his voice was quiet enough now with the distance he was from Tony that only his two comrades would be able to hear him. Although there weren’t as many people around as say, if they were in Tokyo, there were still enough that this was becoming a scene.

“Go inside before someone calls the police on you,” not like he really cared what happened to the American. Mitsuaki stepped around Tony then, hand grabbing for the door into the bike shop, pulling it open and stepping inside. He had given his opinion, told Tony what he should do, but that was all he would offer. Ouga was probably already aware of what was going on outside; it wasn’t like they could just hide themselves from the stronger Shinigami, or that the man was deaf. The man would take control, if needed, and Mitsuaki wasn’t about to stand in his way of doing that.