The foul weather that had preceded the undead assault on the Rukongai, and also ended it, had persisted well into the following week. Rain an cold, however meant little to the Owner of the Notched Axe, and his employee. Business proceeded as usual for the two, with Sengoku making fairly regular deliveries of alcohol to other business in the district, and also picking up what supplies he needed from the markets. It was on one such run that he found himself today. Slung over his shoulders was a long straight staff, and hung on either end of the staff were large baskets full of groceries, wrapped thickly in paper to protect them from the steady, cold rain.

Sengoku himself was wrapped in a thick cloak of un-dyed wool, with a wide brimmed hat of dried straw over his head to keep the rain off. He glanced over his shoulder periodically, checking on the progress of his pursuer. A small gray puppy, its fur soaked so thoroughly that it hung from it like a sheet, padded along behind him. Its tail was wagging, its toongue lolling out in a typical 'happy dog' fashion. It seemed completely fine with the rain, even going to far as to pounce and bite at its reflections in the puddles. Sengoku snorted and kept walking.

Eventually, he came to his home: The illustrious Notched Axe. He pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the smokey, warm, dining area. A few men and women sat at some of the tables, eating and drinking and warming themselves by the fire pit. The puppy followed him in as though it had been here all its life. It even had the audacity to follow him right back into the kitchen, where it shook off the water clinging to its fur. This caused the pup's gray fur to puff out, making the puppy appear a bit bigger than it had been before. It plopped down on its furry little haunches and yipped loudly, tilting its head at Sengoku as the man set the groceries down and removed his hat and cloak.

He raised an eyebrow at the puppy. "I don't recall inviting you into my establishment, mutt." To which the dog wisely whined, tilted its head in the other direction, and remained seated. It looked scrawny, and hungry. Sengoku was many things, but he wasn't cruel. "I suppose you could wait out the rain here..." He murmured. he reached over to a table, were Mihamaru had apparently been slicing up meat for a stew, and plucked up a few cubes of the raw beef. he dropped the meat on the floor, and the dog promptly attacked them with eager glee. Sengoku left the dog to its scraps, and began putting away the supplies he'd managed to procure from the markets.

While Sengoku and his new best friend walked into the bar and into the kitchen, Mihamaru was in the basement, their makeshift cold storage room. While there are many kinds of food and drink in the area, what Mihamaru went down there to check on was a mild spoil from the battle the other day. While he managed to get a few things from the monster attack, like gunk that took days to clean off, and the knowledge that he isn’t as skilled as he used to be, he did manage to steal something of actual value, that he’s keeping hidden down in the basement. In the event that the monsters come back, the two cures he managed to pocket could be useful.

After checking that they were still there, Mihamaru walks back upstairs, to check to see if Sengoku came back. Almost immediately, he hears him talking to someone in the kitchen, an intruder from what little he was able to overhear. He quickly walks towards the kitchen, holding onto the end of his cloak with his right hand in case a fight breaks out. ”Hey Sengoku, do you need help getting rid of th...”

Halfway through his offer for assistance, he notices that Sengoku is merely talking to a small puppy. ”I’ll admit, I didn’t see that coming.”

Sengoku glanced at Mihamaru as the man came up from the basement, and snorted. "Stow it." He growled, a smirk on his face. "I take in strays all the time. You ought to know that." He picked a jug up off the table and uncorked it, sniffing at the mouth to see what was inside. Deciding it was, in fact, mead, he took a swig and then corked it, setting the bottle back down. The dog was now licking the floor where the meat had been sitting. "The weather's getting cold again. Save the wood cutting for when the rain stops. If you get sick from being out in that cold, I'll end up having to do all the work myself."

"Rain-rain-rain-rain, why don't you just go the fuck away?~" Ubaga chimes rather sarcastically as he finishes up with locking the Ramen Bar down. He pulls up the hood of his thick black robe and then tucks away the two packaged up steaks he was bringing with him. Because his hood had such thickly woven coating, the water seemingly beaded and ran off the sides. So because he had such fine weather garments, he didn't bother to hurry at all. After about an hour of wandering in the rain, Ubaga finds himself arriving at his destination. Ubaga heads up to the large wooden door of the Notched Axe and pushes it open with his elbow while simultaneously removing his hood with hand of that same arm. Immediately his nostrils are greeted by the rich, thick smokey scent of cooked meats. His ears drowned in the boisterous laughter and mixed chatter amongst the bar patrons. He wanders over to the fireplace, taking along with him a stray seat at an empty table. Propping the chair opposed to the fireplace, he sits inverted. Once he removes the packaged steaks and sets them neatly down on the cool edge of the fire place, he leans over and grabs the fire poker. Ubaga begins to tease the fire, leading it to unlit parts of wood, but ony partly. He enjoys gazing into the destructive nature of fire. It just seemed so right to him.

Briefly Ubaga averts his gaze and gives the area around him a brief go-around, trying to spot Sengoku among the mix. Unfortunately, he was still in the back tending to other things and so Ubaga just kept to himself and knew that when spotted, Sengoku would most likely approach. "He doesn't like when people touch his things.." he chuckles softly to himself.

Wait. “Taking in strays?” Suddenly Mihamaru remembers a thought he had a few weeks ago, about the source of the meat.

…

…

Before he can comment more on the absurdity, another customer walks in. While he normally only recognizes the regulars by face, this guy’s rather... distinctive appearance makes his identity obvious. He’s... um, that guy who runs that place in the 2nd division. ”Yeah, it looks like you’ve got something important to take care of. Oh, and I’m not cooking anything until I see that dog moving and barking. Just... just for laughs.”

Sengoku raised an eyebrow at Mihamaru's odd behavior, then glanced out into the dining area, where Ubaga had seated himself. He gave Miha a brief look, then shrugged. "Go on out and take some orders, refill some drinks. I'm going to start cooking again." The puppy had made his way over to the fireplace, and was now lying in front of it, licking his fur dry. Sengoku began mixing flour, water, and eggs into bread dough for the stove. A pair of rabbits hung from a rack nearby, waiting to be skinned and cooked. He began to whistle as he worked, kneading the dough into a soft, stretchy ball, then dividing it and shaping it. Sengoku did love his work.

After having poked the logs of fire enough, he sets the poker down on the edge of the fireplace, handle hanging off the edge to stay cool. Ubaga then shifts his gaze, at first to locate the errand boy, but quickly his eyes avert to the canine wandering up and over to the warmth of the fireplace. It had a damp coat of fur and immediately began tending to itself once finding a spot closest to the warmth. Ubaga wonders at first why the dog was here. Normally, he didn't see dogs in the Notched Axe, then again, it is on rare nights that he is even in attendance. He doesn't give the dog a second look, instead he gazes around momentarily. It was easy spotting Mihamaru through the thicket of smoke and customers. Ubaga remains with a locked-on gaze, ready to motion him over should he even give a glance.

While looking back to see Sengoku feeding the dog, Mihamaru walks out and writes down the customer’s orders half-heartedly. Seems to be mostly booze. While writing the orders down, he keeps thinking about the dog. He claims he takes in strays all the time, yet why has he never seen them? And if he does, where are they? After a while, he finds himself at the guy with the bone things. ”Hey there, what’s your pleasure?”

[crap post is crap]

Sengoku had just finished shaping the loaves, and placing them on a wide, flat square of stone, then placed that stone in the large oven in the back of the kitchen. He brushed molten butter over the loaves, then he stoked the fire in the oven and stepped out of the kitchen tend to the bar. He wiped it down, refilled people's drinks, and took some orders for food. The puppy waddled around the bar and scrambled up onto a stool, looking at him, and he ruffed up its ears, smiling just a bit. His bar was his home, and for once it was almost completely at peace; No irritating hollows masquerading as humans, no rowdy shinigami, no one actively seeking trouble...it'd be nice if it would stay this way.

"I would like to speak with Sengoku about semi-urgent matters regarding the well-being of the 3rd and 4th's inhabitants -- In the meantime I'll take a flagon of Ale, errand boy. AND give me some from the fresh batch; don't be trying to serve me up the spoomy leftovers. 'Less your fixing for trouble tonight." Ubaga replies promptly with a dead stare before returning his gaze to the fire. It wasn't that he didn't like Mihamaru, but moreso at that the kid had one of those "punch me in face" kind of faces.

SPOILER: Click to show

keyboard's on the fritz

Snapping his neck. Stepping on his neck. Strangulation. Stabbing him through the eye. An old fashioned beatdown. Disposal? Well, maybe he could convince Sengoku to make him into the food, and call it “Mystery Food”. Maybe he could leave the body in the wastelands, and let the Masks do the job themselves.

While thinking of ways to enact bloody vengence on this guy with the balls to call him “errand boy”, he hears he wants to meet Sengoku, and apparently wants the finest ale in the place. ”So you want the boss and our finest poison. Coming right up, Skeletor.” Before the customer can argue over anything, he walks away from him, towards the kitchen.

Walking into the kitchen to see Sengoku and his dog, he clears his throat to get his attention, and slides a list of drink orders from the other customers. Suddenly, he remembers he didn’t write down what Skeletor wanted. ”Oh, and before I forget. We got a guy out there who wants our freshest ale, and to talk to you about something important. He’s got a bone in his nose and a stick up his ass, if that refreshes your memory. Now, does the dog have to go? I think I’ll give him a surprise.”

Sengoku was scrubbing a mug clean with a semi-sanitary rag. He raised an eyebrow as Mihamaru came up, and snorted a bit. Given the description, it could only be one person. "Ubaga? What the hell could that old bastard want?" He put the mug down and pulled a jug of ale out from under the bar. he popped the cork, filled the mug, and then took it and the jug over to the fireplace where Ubaga was sitting. The dog, being of a good-natured and curious sort, waddled after Sengoku; Obviously he didn't care to be left out of the action. Sengoku pulled up a chair next to Ubaga and passed him the mug. The puppy leaned up against Sengoku's leg, and the barkeep scratched the dog's ears idly.

"So, Ubaga. What brings you to my tavern today?"

"As of recently certain events have proven that, while we may have strength and courage, we are horribly unorganized and lack certain level of security." Ubaga pauses momentarily to both accept the mug and offer over two thick-cut slabs of fresh beef. He doesn't hand the white package over but instead slides it along the edge of the fireplace until it was within Sengoku's reach.

"For you and errand boy -- a small token of my appreciation and respect toward you and business we conduct. Two slabs of my finest cut meat. Now..."

"Back to my being here." Ubaga brings the mug's rim to his lips in a light perch, allowing the liquid to smoothly course through his mouh and down his throat until emptying about half the serving. "I would like to construct a squad of citizens. The purpose of which lies in the general well-being of of the Rukongai. I've set my eyes on various assets and individuals; you are one of those individuals-" briefly Ubaga waves his hand carelessly out in the open, "- and this is one of the assets."

Perching the rim to his lips once more, he tops off the mug and then sets it down afterwards. "I do not wish to own you nor the landmark. But rather utilize the benefits of an alliance that would result in a mutual gain."

SPOILER: Click to show

still on the fritz

While Sengoku is talking to Ugly, Mihamaru takes the drinks to the various customers who ordered them, while taking a moment to comment on how odd it is that so many people ordered just drinks, and nothing else. After finishing with the orders, Mirhamaru walks around the tavern, checking to make sure there aren’t any more people waiting for anything else, before passing by Sengoku and the jerk who called him merely “errand boy”, and overhears an interesting tidbit.

"I would like to construct a squad of citizens. The purpose of which lies in the general well-being of of the Rukongai."

”Lemme stop ya right there, Ugabuga.” Pulling a complete about face, he turns around, and quickly pulls out a chair for himself before sitting down at the table between the two men, while resting his right hand on the table. After tapping the table with his index finger a few times, either to drum up anticipation for what he’s about to say, or possibly to remind himself what he was going to say, he starts speaking again. ”This whole ‘defenders of Rukongai’ thing you’re planning right now? It’s been done before. I should know, I was part of one five years ago. The fact that I’m more or less homeless, the ‘errand boy’ in a tavern, and even lower on the totem pole in said tavern than my boss’s new “best friend” should give you an idea how well things worked out.”

Ignoring the fact that such liberal use of air quotes seems rather... perhaps arrogant would be the proper term, Mihamaru takes a breath before continuing. ”Look, do you even have a plan for this? If the idea is to make it so that we don’t need Sword assistance, they don’t really patrol out here anyway. If it’s to defend from Masks,I think half of the customers here are part of Sengoku’s little ‘Rukongai Defenders’ thing. If your plan really is just a simple ‘Step 1: Recruit strong guys, Step 3: Safety,’ then I hope you don’t mind people getting slaughtered like collow, because that’s all you’re inviting.”

Sengoku glanced at the meat and listened to Ubaga's words. He didn't have anything against the old man, but he felt a rueful smile creeping up on him. Mihamaru interrupted with a little spiel, which made Sengoku smirk even more. He tossed one of the packages at Miahmaru's face, a silent 'shut up boy, I feed you', before returning his attention to Ubaga. "My employee has a point, Ubaga. Rukon Citizens have always worked to defend themselves. Some iterations are more organized than others. My father and grandfather were both part of similar groups." he took a pull from the jug, and felt the heat of the alcohol wash down his throat. "Organization is tricky, Ubaga. These men aren't shinigami. They don't take orders well, and most of them are barely even useful in a fight. When that plague rolled through, and the dead were walking around, most of these folks were getting themselves chewed on and tossed about like rag dolls." He ruffed up the dog's fur again, and glanced at Mihamaru.

Wait...had Mihamaru said he was homeless?

"Your errand boy just made an ass of himself. His point is invalid." Ubaga snorts as a grin cracks into place. Ubaga had not invited Miha to this meeting nor did he ask of his opinion. Nonetheless, the man retains a friendly display and relaxed posture. It wasn't Ubaga's place to dismiss the boy so he merely kept his attention focused on Sengoku. "Heh, Sengoku... Your father, he was an honorable man. May he rest in peace. I had not known your Grandfather, and that is not to say I really knew your father. You have a rich lineage, you were born to fight. I.. may have accidentally mislead you with the word "group." See, my plan far outweighs the expansion any previously constructed organization could offer. I'm talking about governing the Rukongai. Implementing a system. That's simmering on the back burner." Ubaga says before grabbing the firepoker so that he could adjust the wood accordingly. "What I'm here to discuss is your position as Head of Security. You have the traits of a leader and the respect of the fighters. With you I can visibly portray that not only does the 3rd and 4th have a backbone, but the Rukongai in it's entirety. We need step up and show the people that they can look up to a familiar face and feel safe not only because they can relate but because we've physically proven through sweat and blood that we'll lay down our lifes to protect what's rightfully ours."

Ubaga releases the firepoker and looks back to Sengoku and says, "Do you know what an Arrancar is?"

There it is again. “Errand boy”. This close to the fire, a single shadow tentacle could sneak up behind him. He’d have the element of surprise, after all. And now a conversation on family? Considering his family is probably on a boat going after a particularly mean trout, a discussion of lineage almost seems tailor-made to annoy him.

That last little tidbit though, is interesting. One of the benefits of his... circumstances, is that he has the benefits of fairly uncommon knowledge. That specific brand of Mask, for instance, is one such example. ”Those are the Masks that look more like us, right? They’ve been getting ballsy lately. One of them walked right into here a while ago and just ordered something. Way I figure it, his stupidity could mean two things. Either he’s so mind numbingly stupid that he honestly didn’t see a problem with that, or smarter ones are doing it, and we just caught the stupid one...”

Ubaga maintained that friendly air, using it to hid an arrogant superiority that made Sengoku's skin crawl. He didn't show it, but Ubaga was getting on his nerves. "Before we go any further, Ubaga, let's make something clear. Mihamaru is not my 'errand boy'. He's my employee. He's also vital to the day to day runnings of my establishment..." He shot Mihamaru a look, a blatant 'keep your god damned mouth shut', and looked back to Ubaga.

"For the time being at any rate. As such, anything you want with me and my establishment also involves him. You want to make this place a base of operations, which means it could come under attack by the enemies you will doubtlessly make with this venture. Mihamaru has every right to know the risks first hand, and I'd prefer if he heard it from the horse's mouth. He's defended the Rukon, and its people. He's earned his place here." Sengoku gave Ubaga a deadly serious look, digging in his heels and making it clear he wasn't budging on this. Mihamaru had already answered Ubaga's question about the arrancars. Sengoku had never been certain that the man he'd so frequently encountered had been one of those arrancars; they were damn near mythic. No one had really seen one outside the wasteland in decades. But if Ubaga was right, and the red headed man HAD been an Arrancar, then Mihamaru was also right; the Arrancar had been spectacularly stupid.

"If you're willing to indulge me in allowing Mihamaru to be a part of this, then I'm willing to listen. Otherwise, be on your way Ubaga, and we'll keep doing what we do best." Serving food and drinks, harassing Soul Reapers, and busting Hollow Heads.

"Errand boy here has not earned my respect. Unfortunately for him, he isn't making much progress in obtaining it either. Personal differences aside -- there is a way he can prove himself. You say that you cannot partake in this venture without him, then I must abide accordingly to see that our future remains prosperous and tranquil." he replies shortly before turning eye to Mihamaru.

"Now you want me to respect you by halting my referring to you as errand boy, okay. Mihamaru, you will now, and forever, refer to me as Mr. Yammakoshi. It is what I require not just of you, but most of anyone I know. Respect that and we'll see where this goes." Ubaga says. Briefly he glances at Sengoku and taps the rim off his mug as a gesture towards a refill. "Initiation. A process in which you will endure if you wish to take on an allegiance with me. Sengoku here claims you're vital to operations here, but are you a vital piece of my operation? We'll see if you have what it takes."

"There is only one objective. You, Sengoku and I will trek out into the heart of The Wasteland. I will act as the navigator and Sengoku will be your guardian angel... so to speak. Your primary goal is to obtain the mask of Four-arm Gorilla Pete. He is a very volatile Adjuchas with a reputation for separation of skin from bone. I will lead us to and from his location without the interruption of other Hollow and if you can't manage to tough it out and retrieve the mask, Sengoku will step in and end it."

Ubaga shifts his gaze to Sengoku and says, "Now if Mihamaru here is willing to accept my terms, then I'll be able to share what I know about these masked men."

An interesting proposal, that. While resisting the urge to lay more snark on the fool who can’t seem to take nicknames well, he ponders on how he’d go about the plan. ”You said you’d lead us to my target, yeah? I’m no tracker and have no idea who this Mask is, so that would be an important part. But if you can fulfill the role you decided for yourself, then I should be able to take him out easily enough. However, the idea that three guys, even if they're us, can get deep enough into the Wastelands to find a specific Mask, and get out without being surrounded and worked over like Sengoku to a guy who refuses to pay, sounds frankly laughable, at least to me.”

Seriously though, “Four-arm Gorilla Pete”? Do Gorillas typically have four arms? And what kind of name for a Mask is “Pete”, anyway?

'Four-Arm Gorilla Pete'? That right there earned a derogatory snort. "Gods be damned I just LOVE it when Hollows try to give themselves names..." He shook his head, a small smirk on his lips. He took another pull from the jug, offered it to the other two, and then set it down on the table. "I dunno Mihamaru...think you can handle the fearsome 'Four-Armed Gorilla Pete'? Sounds like he might be serious trouble." He was joking, and it could be heard in his voice, but he took in every word the other two said. Once again, Mihamaru had hit the nail right on the head. Ubaga had been living out in the wastes for a long, long time. It stood to reason he knew how to get around hollows...but that was him, alone. Three people? That was a bit of a stretch. he glanced at Ubaga for a long second, as if challenging the old man to refute Mihamaru's questions.

"The kid's got a point, Ubaga. How do you intend to get all three of us THAT deep into the wastelands? Or does Petey-boy tend to hang pretty close to the Rukongai?"

"The path on which we travel is not entirely free of Hollow. Throughout the day it is littered with the animalistic demons and at night... well, let's just say the weirder Hollow come out to play. It is during the end of the day cycle that we will make our trip. At sunset the Hollow on this path retreat to slumber before the creatures of the night begin to prowl. It is in that small window of time that we make our move."

Ubaga takes a broad sip from his newly refreshed mug before continuing on, "I whole-heatedly agree that the task of transporting three heads to and from the The Wastelands sounds a bit farfetched. However I ask that you install a little bit of blind faith in my claims because all the guarantee I have are my words. My life has been the hunting and surviving of Hollow, I surveyed these paths and I researched these Hollow through observation." Ubaga stops once again to drink from the mug. 'Aahhhh' he sighs happily before starting up again, "Enough chatter about the Gorilla! ..Let's move on to these masked men.. Arrancar."

"Hmmm.. about 500-something years ago, way before Mihamaru here was suckling at the teet, I had a visitor at the Bar. For about ..oh say, 100 years, I thought it was a human, or Shinigami. That is until it showed me the mask hidden under it's hood. I nearly killed the Arrancar right then and there, though I held my urges back, not just for the sake of my establishment, but to prevent any possible threat that would be inflicted upon an innocent due to crossfire. So I took a strategic approach about offing it.. I scoured the land for a bane. Poison. After 300 years, I obtained a vile that contained a very lethal liquid. It was just last week that I killed it."


"During the time in which it kept stopping by my bar, we made conversation. It is within that conversation that I learned a great deal about it and their race. What I'm about to share does not leave our ears. Not yet. Do I have your words on this?" Ubaga's eyes briefly glance at Miha.

300 years to find poison? Maybe it’s just due to the fact that Mihamaru has only lived for a fraction of that time, but the claim just reeks of either laziness or incompetence, neither of which are thoughts that inspire confidence in the man. Although, the idea of insider information is an interesting topic.

What could he know? Unique abilities? Weaknesses? Maybe they have some form of government which could be crippled. All of these thoughts run through his head, before he notices another flaw in Ugly’s plan. ”Look, if you’re going to keep saying things that are so dumb that even I catch on to them, you’ll just make yourself seem incompetent. So how about we have this super secret hush hush insider talk somewhere that, you know ISN’T a crowded tavern full of people who aren’t the three of us. Unless they don’t count, of course.” The guy’s apparently old enough to have been personal friends with Sengoku’s father, which makes him old as dirt to begin with. He’s hardly the “ancient sage archetype”, and not just because he lacks a long white beard.

If this keeps going, the reputation as the mildly stupid tavern worker that Mihamaru painstakingly created will crumble!

Sengoku grimaced. The thought of wandering out into the desert was not a pleasant one. The thought of being lead out into the desert by someone he barely knew, maneuvering through a narrow window of convenient timing he knew nothing about, killing a hollow he knew nothing about, and coming back out through the same maneuver...there were WAY too many 'ifs' implied here. How the hell was Ubaga planning to make this work? Sengoku had never been a fan of blind faith, and he didn't trust Ubaga.

Mihamaru went on being a rude little bugger, as was his prerogative. Sengoku felt the whole thing was coming to a head, and this needed a resolution. "Ubaga. You're asking us to take your word on this, to trust you. You're providing nothing but your word, and I'm sorry, but that's simply not good enough for me to risk my life on. Now, you want to provide something a little more concrete than a 'narrow window of opportunity', then I'm willing to hear you out. Otherwise, I'm not setting foot in that desert with just you, me, and Mihamaru. NOW, as to setting up a more organized defense force? THAT I can help you with, I'd be glad to help you with that."

"Sengoku, if you can't come to bring yourself into trekking through The Wastelands without my assurance then I have sorely over-estimated you. I'm tying to install peace of mind for our citizens; a public figure that isn't afraid of Hollow. Not the outcome of death or even the agonizing, slow torture of being disemboweled via teeth." Ubaga replies before finishing off his mug.

"I apologize for having wasted your time. I'll pay for the ale next time your around the bar." Ubaga stands and departs.

[exit]

SPOILER: Click to show

keyboard is still broken

After Skeletor walks out the door, Mihamaru takes a deep breath before letting out a sigh. ”Jackass.” Taking the chance to stand up and push the chair he was sitting in into place, Mihamaru walks off to see if he can refill the drinks of any customers. While pouring the booze for the customers, Mihamaru reflects on the conversation that just occurred.

The idea of three people wandering deep into Mask territory, for instance. Being alone out there is the sort of thing that lazy parents use to threaten their kids. “If you don’t clean your entire plate, we’ll leave you for the Hollows to get ya”. Hell, normally you expect a small army to go through.

And while the idea of the “Mighty Morphin’ Rukon Rangers” is still pretty foolish, the idea of a more unified Rukongai bears promise. Too bad the guy who came up with it is a total asshat.

Ubaga had made a low blow, trying to call Sengoku a coward. He wasn't exactly subtle about it, and he'd been loud enough that a few other patrons around the tavern had heard it, many of whom were giving Ubaga a rather unfriendly look as the old hermit left. There was a difference between being brave and being stupid. Sengoku had responsibilities here, in the Rukon. He didn't just tend to his bar, he patrolled the borders. He saw to it that people had food and security. He helped build up houses and shops that were damaged by weather, time, or fighting. He trained his fellow defends, and he lead raids out into the fourth district to thin out the number of hollows living there. For Ubaga to suggest that Sengoku was anything but a leader merely showed how little the elder man understood of Sengoku's role in the Rukongai. Sengoku WAS a leader, and perhaps a smarter one than Ubaga thought. It was all well and good to go rushing off into the wastelands when you didn't have people counting on you at home. It was something else all together when you had a life and duties.

He polished off the jug and collected the cups, and went about his business. The crowd thinned out after a while; some were headed home to their families, others out to start the border patrols. Sengoku and Mihamaru cleaned up the place, shooed out some drunks, and when it was all said and done, Sengoku brought out a bottle of the harder liquor that he kept under the counter and poured a bit into two glasses. He nudged one to Mihamaru and took up his glass, knocking it back in a single swallow. "Good work today."

It was a generic statement, barely more than a moderately coherent grunt. It was a precursor to a conversation, presumably. Sengoku filled his glass halfway and looked at Mihamaru. The dog had managed to work its way up onto the bar somehow and was sitting nearby, wagging its tail and looking from one to the other. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

Due to a rather unfortunate head injury, from a completely random event that had absolutely nothing to do with his own actions, leading to a completely understandable absence, a peculiar boy by the name of John had missed what was apparently a once and a life time chance. The undead roamed streets, mangled, killed. All while the boy was busy sleeping in his bed. Some superhero he was. He couldn't even make it to the end of the world! What was it? December 22st?

But, that was of no matter!

He would make up for that little mishap!

He was the greatest superhero in the world!

No little head injury, no matter how damaging, debilitating, or otherwise, was going to stop him! Of course he had to prove that first. His parents, having long realized his nature, had decided to let him scurry about the districts unsupervised, like good parents. Nevertheless, he was just starting. A superhero first had to make a name for themselves! Which he had around the districts... Not a favorable one though... As he was more or less a nuisance to pretty much everyone else. It wasn't as if he was a bad kid though. He completely believed in being a hero of justice serving the people. That was the foundation of his very being...

No matter how horribly misguided he was.

He was going to be a hero of the people... Whether or not the people wanted John to be a hero... Well, that was a question that didn't need to be answered. But he perseveres, because he's the hero Rukongai deserves, but not the one it needs right now.

But still... He keeps trying.

THAT'S WHAT A HERO OF JUSTICE DOES!

Despite the fact that it was raining....And he was cold.... And hungry... And the fact that his extraordinarily long and useless hood dragging around in the mud... Making it kind of... dirty.

Rain rain go away the superhero wants to play today~

Rain or shine, no manner of inclement weather was going to stop John Egbert from protecting the people! HE WAS A HERO OF JUSTICE. AND JUSTICE NEVER STOPS BECAUSE OF RAIN.

But, he was kind of cold... And what did cold people do? Well, that was obvious. They go inside to dry off and get warm. And where was the best place to do such a thing? Why, at that one place in that one area of course! The answer was so simple that it didn't even need to be spoken!

SUPERHERO HQ!!!! :O :O :O :O

The place where all the heroes would meet up. Of course said place wasn't actually a headquarters for superheroes. But, that really didn't matter. John just so happened to be gifted with a horribly overactive imagination, and sadly, he truly believed that the tavern was a SUPERHERO HQ! And what better place was there to go then the SUPERHERO HQ!?!? Such a place was a prime spot for gathering information, and if any disturbance were to occur, John would presumably be aided by other GRAND SUPERHEROES JUST LIKE HIMSELF (not)....

The SUPERHERO HQ was merely a short trek away from him, and, even if he walked, it wouldn't take more than a few minutes to reach it. But, of course, John had other, less viable plans that always made things much more complicated. So, as overzealous as always, John set out with a full sprint, despite the rather horrible conditions providing for some rather poor footing. Thus, like a gust of wind he blasted forward with a inhuman amount of vigor. The wind combined with the rain, making a rather horrible combination as the droplets crashed against his face. Making him actually....Wetter? Was that even possible at this point? The dead sprint certainly lessened the time it would take to reach the SUPERHERO HQ into just seconds, but, there would be a price to pay.

If past history was ever a good indication of something, it would certainly be that repetition is the key to human behavior. John, while as quick as a mouse, had as much restraint as a 2 year old in a candy store. He REALLY didn't know how to control himself sometimes. And rather expectantly, John reached the SUPERHERO ENTRANCE TO THE SUPERHERO HQ in just half a minute. And rather expectantly, just as he attempted to stop just before the door, he slipped, stumbled, and crashed right into the door....Which, amazingly, had withstood the impact, and had flung open instead.

John, almost as if he was making an occupation of it, crashed right into the floorboards. But, on the bright side, he was no longer being soaked by the rain. Not that it mattered at this point. His entire ensemble was completely drenched in the rain, which leaked onto the floorboards... Which was already rather damp in the first place. He was certainly shattering records today. Sooner or later, he'll be voted as the hero with the worst type of heroic introduction ever.

No doubt some people would be shocked. Worried? Maybe. Most would probably recognize his blue pajamas outfit... And just pretend that it never even happened. It was probably just better that way. Honestly. If they didn't acknowledge it... Then they wouldn't have to deal with it.. And because it was John... Well, nobody wanted to deal with such a nuisance.. But, the important thing was that he was okay... He was most likely used to crashing into stuff at this point.... Hopefully... Yeah... He probably was.

After a long day of work, Mihamaru finishes up cleaning out the drunks and, more importantly, the dishes. While taking a break, Mihamaru decides to sit down across from Sengoku, and takes a gulp from the drink. While normally not a drinker, preferring coherence to the sauce, it would be rude to say no, especially since this is probably the closest to nice Sengoku will ever get.

And almost on cue, an insult. Some things will never change.

“Wait, am I stupid for treating one guy who thinks he's special like everyone else? For pointing out the obvious flaws in his plan? For telling him that a public bar isn't the place to have private conversations? For not killing him after he called me errand boy the 3rd time? Because I didn't piss in his glass and call it ale? Or was this something I did yesterday? Come on, you gotta be more specific like this!”

Or he could be talking to the dog. Well, that was embarrassing. Before he can voice his confusion over which of the two were insulted, a weirdo in green shows up. He looks vaguely familiar, but whoever he is, he looks like trouble. ”You look a bit young to be in a tavern alone, don’t you think, kid?”

Sengoku poured out more liquor, this time sipping it. "You're an idiot for not telling your boss that you're living on the streets like a homeless bum." he scowled and glanced at the new arrival before returning his focus to Mihamaru. "You're making me look bad, moron. I've got six rooms up there that no one lives in, and you didn't think to ask if you could stay?" Sengoku wasn't an unreasonable human being. He'd had prior employees stay in the tavern. Some of them had even survived the experience.