( he recalls the electric dread of another similar situation — he stood above the decapitated body of the baron, causing the water of his still-running shower to go red with blood, and he had scarcely caught the presence of another behind him before a blade had been extended to rest on his shoulder. but regardless of why he might claim he had followed him from that bar in the slums, kieran had been far more motivated by curiosity than violent intent. makoto keenly knew the difference. this creature they hoped would pursue him is, in his mind, not at all very dissimilar from the monster he feared he would become in his human, mortal life. he can't help but remember what he'd read out of those books on serial killers he'd hoarded in secret in his room: often the first time a killer satisfies their macabre desire, they are at their most wild, messy, and emotional. further predations are attempts at recreating and once again catching that high, though through practice and procedure they could become impersonal and perfunctory.
all of this feeds into one assumption that makoto critically makes: he can't assume that this demon will take his time. as labyrinthine as kowloon is, they are still out in relative public, and he must know by now that he is a wanted man. the attack would come swift, devastating, and sudden, and the three of them would have to react in kind.
what he certainly hadn't accounted for was gen making the first move.
their target is skillful enough at the hunt that makoto hadn't sensed his approach beyond the awful, creeping unease that comes from the paranoid thought that one might be being watched or followed. he had been forcing himself to try to keep his attention forward, to be as tempting of bait as he could manage, but there is a sudden shift in the earth beneath his feet and an accompanying sound of earthen grinding. he turns on his heel, eyes wide in shock, to see the hooded figure sunk into the earth up to mid-thigh. the attacking demon seems just as surprised, looking down and pulling at his entrapped legs with a gravelly string of low curses. the hooded head snaps up and fixates on makoto.
"the hell is this? is this your doing?!"
makoto flounders for an answer, and it's not acting; many of his memories regarding his interactions with minegishi gen came back to him, but he can't for the life of him recall seeing whatever he might've been capable of in a fight. he begins to make the mistake of thinking that their mission would be done so quickly and easily, but the other Shard-Bearer foils that when his body grows hazy and indistinct before disappearing entirely — that is, until he reappears in his entirety right in front of makoto, having used Misty Step to escape gen's trap. not seeing the real perpetrator, though, he makes his own assumptions. "well?!" he doesn't wait for a real reply, one of the crimson claws darting out from beneath the hooded cloak to sink cruelly into makoto's chest to hold him in place; hot blood immediately begins to well up from the wounds and stain through layers of clothing.
the pain, too, is immediate, and for a long second it's all that occupies him. everything that has happened up until this point has only taken the span of seconds, and so he forces himself through it to put forth the only real action he can commit to in this scenario: there is a strange shifting in the space behind him as his wings reach from beneath the hem of his jacket. this alley is too narrow for him to spread them entirely, but that's fine; all he needs to do is to strike out with them and sink the talons deep into the flesh of the other man's shoulder and leg, effectively locking them together.
makoto finally looks up from his wound to the dark pooling beneath the hood, smiling with sharp teeth. one of his eyes has reverted to its typical eerie appearance. he can taste blood in his mouth as he speaks, the faintly wet quality to his words perhaps indicative of an injured lung. ) Well. What will you do, now you know there is more than meets the eye?
( he doubts he would prove so slippery now. not unless he had a way of carrying him along with him. and if flight is temporarily denied as an option... he just has to hope gen and sebastian act before he's torn to pieces. )
no subject
all of this feeds into one assumption that makoto critically makes: he can't assume that this demon will take his time. as labyrinthine as kowloon is, they are still out in relative public, and he must know by now that he is a wanted man. the attack would come swift, devastating, and sudden, and the three of them would have to react in kind.
what he certainly hadn't accounted for was gen making the first move.
their target is skillful enough at the hunt that makoto hadn't sensed his approach beyond the awful, creeping unease that comes from the paranoid thought that one might be being watched or followed. he had been forcing himself to try to keep his attention forward, to be as tempting of bait as he could manage, but there is a sudden shift in the earth beneath his feet and an accompanying sound of earthen grinding. he turns on his heel, eyes wide in shock, to see the hooded figure sunk into the earth up to mid-thigh. the attacking demon seems just as surprised, looking down and pulling at his entrapped legs with a gravelly string of low curses. the hooded head snaps up and fixates on makoto.
"the hell is this? is this your doing?!"
makoto flounders for an answer, and it's not acting; many of his memories regarding his interactions with minegishi gen came back to him, but he can't for the life of him recall seeing whatever he might've been capable of in a fight. he begins to make the mistake of thinking that their mission would be done so quickly and easily, but the other Shard-Bearer foils that when his body grows hazy and indistinct before disappearing entirely — that is, until he reappears in his entirety right in front of makoto, having used Misty Step to escape gen's trap. not seeing the real perpetrator, though, he makes his own assumptions. "well?!" he doesn't wait for a real reply, one of the crimson claws darting out from beneath the hooded cloak to sink cruelly into makoto's chest to hold him in place; hot blood immediately begins to well up from the wounds and stain through layers of clothing.
the pain, too, is immediate, and for a long second it's all that occupies him. everything that has happened up until this point has only taken the span of seconds, and so he forces himself through it to put forth the only real action he can commit to in this scenario: there is a strange shifting in the space behind him as his wings reach from beneath the hem of his jacket. this alley is too narrow for him to spread them entirely, but that's fine; all he needs to do is to strike out with them and sink the talons deep into the flesh of the other man's shoulder and leg, effectively locking them together.
makoto finally looks up from his wound to the dark pooling beneath the hood, smiling with sharp teeth. one of his eyes has reverted to its typical eerie appearance. he can taste blood in his mouth as he speaks, the faintly wet quality to his words perhaps indicative of an injured lung. ) Well. What will you do, now you know there is more than meets the eye?
( he doubts he would prove so slippery now. not unless he had a way of carrying him along with him. and if flight is temporarily denied as an option... he just has to hope gen and sebastian act before he's torn to pieces. )