Post by Yūjin Inazuma on Dec 26, 2018 17:57:32 GMT
can't fix this, i'm hopeless.
my sanity is spent, just tell me where my time went
▼
 NOTES: Noriko Ishida | If Yūjin had been able to, he would have desperately apologized for his lack of understanding over the on-board artificial intelligence systems installed within 'Behemoth', but he was preoccupied with the sensation of his mouth being stretched back by the speeds at which the motorcycle pulled him, his Digimon Abel, and his other three passengers across Nishi-Shinjuku. Fifteen minutes, the estimated time of arrival, had been all but shrunk down to the closest thing the veteran Tamer had ever come to experiencing teleportation between two full wards. Sure enough, Roppongi Hills came blazing into view as 'Behemoth' expertly steered its way through Tokyo's infamously congested traffic lanes, despite the machine's chunky armored frame. Of course, several blocks behind them were feeling, rather understandably, a shade annoyed with the clouds of smoke left in the wake of Yūjin's hot-rod from Hell. When 'Behemoth' came barreling towards the development project's centerpiece that was Mori Tower, it decelerated independently of its driver's will so that the vehicle could wheel its way to a gentle stop, leaving both Yūjin and Abel paralyzed in their seats from the sheer velocity they had been driving. Even the both that Noriko and he had rescued was feeling dizzier than a person would after having their wisdom teeth extracted while under the influence of anesthetics. It took the young woman a moment to adjust herself and dismount the bike properly, as it was pretty large even for the one steering, before Yūjin found himself pulled away from his trance by Noriko's gratitude. "N-No big deal, really... I'm happy to help," he stammers, gyrating his neck to shake free of the vertigo that clung tightly to his head. "Eugh... I think I'm gonna be sick..." Abel moans with a wheeze, trying to lean over the side of the motorcycle as nausea begins to set in. "Please, don't..." Yūjin begs with the enthusiasm of a bored sloth, then takes an embarrassed glance up at the young woman and her Nyaromon, shrugging. "You'll probably see me around; it's kinda hard to miss this," he says, suggestively lifting his eyebrows up as if to draw attention towards the strange mess of spikes he called hair. But, considering the size of Tokyo and its population, he would have to think of some means to get to her in case they needed to contact one another... An idea registers inside the Tamer's thoughts. Careful to avoid accidentally elbowing his only other human passenger, Yūjin retrieves a small coin from his pocket, a novel trinket stamped with a big question mark, then flips the metal disc to Noriko with his thumb with the expectation that she will be swift enough to catch it, producing an audible ting in the process. "I know some people, have a few connections in strange places," Yūjin informs Noriko, cranking the handlebar softly to let the engine keep running; people were starting to look his way, and based on their expressions, they weren't too happy with all the noise 'Behemoth' was producing. "Show that to somebody, and mention the 'No-Namers'. They'll handle the rest." Even then, saying it as he did makes the name sound weird as hell. The No-Namers. This was the 'faction of no faction', a loose collective of people and Digimon whose lives were all affected and changed by the growing hostilities between the Tamer coalitions. Many of them were called such due to their own lack of affiliation to any of the major groups struggling for control of Tokyo, as a pejorative way to insult their non-commitment. But why devote yourself to fighting, when all it does is hurt people and make existing problems even worse? Was there even a way out of such a fate, if one could call it that? Perhaps this coin was Yūjin's way of suggesting the potential existence of a third option, a road completely not considered by any other party including the primary participant? Perhaps it was his way of letting her know that there was a cause worthy of fighting for, if she felt like she had to fight for anything. "You take care, Noriko-san! I'm gonna scram before the neighbors pull a fire alarm or something, heh..." Yūjin said, petting a queasy Patamon out of pity before he cranked the motorcycle's handlebar a second time, manually, before allowing his feet to lift off the ground so that 'Behemoth' could enter a swift forward roll. Just as swiftly, he roared off into Tokyo with another plume of hellfire and brimstone, hoping to avoid drawing police attention to Roppongi Hills in total spite of the fact that such a sting could have taken down some prominent Yakuza operations. Here was hoping none of this affected her home life... [ E X I T ] |
PYXIS ★
