Set the Fire [Yun/Closed]

[attr="class","mouths1"]Shibuya was certainly full of activity tonight, as it has always been. Colors flashed, throbbed, and blinked all over the streets and buildings in a royal rainbow of visual delight. Music from the numerous clubs and bars thumped loud enough to rattle the very windows of their respective establishments.

One such venue, in particular, stood out for gaming savant Yun Yoshimasa. Normally, he would avoid places like these; they were all seedy, and full of people looking to prey on unsuspecting individuals for everything they were worth. But the focused gleam in his purple eyes and his calm, unhurried breathing suggested he had business to attend to in the festive district of lights and sounds, and this spot had been the agreed point of rendezvous.

Rumors had been circulating around the Internet, the news, and a few coffee shops that Yun frequented on the regular that somebody under the vague description of a "hulking behemoth" had been spotted a couple of times in the past, and that his appearances were occasionally linked to a series of especially brutal assaults.

The spiky-haired man sighed calmly, replete with patience, as he toyed with the box of cards that lay fastened against his studded leather belt. He would rather be at home making changes to his deck, but it would have been equally unwise — and uncharacteristic — to simply let these whispers of a phantom juggernaut go untested. What if he actually existed? What was he like? Just how brutal was this figure?

Some may have called Yun reckless, even suicidal.

He simply feels it's a matter of principle, grinning impishly at the thought.

[attr="class","mouths1"]A chill practically crawls down the back of Yun's slender neck. But his form remains frozen where it stands — not from uncertainty or terror, but smoldering curiosity, a sensation that continued to grow hotter and brighter with every passing second.

A breeze kicks up. Dust rolls across the pavement of the alleyway as a column of moonlight penetrates the skyscrapers that towered above Shibuya, as if to set the scene for Yun himself. He basked in the silver beam with hands stuffed into both pockets, even as an audible clap pierced the silence from behind.

Yun swivels on his heels to face this trespasser, only for amethyst eyes to draw upon the form of a man unlike any he had seen before; sinewy musculature framed every part, each equally sculpted with a painstaking attention to detail. Clearly, a degree of single-mindedness was put into crafting that body body, and it truly was a visual feast to partake in. The presence of white hair made the tanned giant's silhouette stand out even more, and his jacket gives him an off-yellow outline to follow more easily.

Was this man the fabled "phantom juggernaut" that the porcupine-headed gamer heard so much about?

"Is that so?" Yun riposted sharply, pulled his hands out from both pockets to fold his arms confidently, his own jacket and multi-pointed hair swaying in the breeze. "I don't seem to recall asking you for your opinion on my exercise habits. You appear to have that covered." He sized the meaty giant up and down to emphasize his own sarcasm.

Outstanding as his attitude towards this massive tower of muscle might have been, Yun was not so foolish as to enter this scenario without a few contingencies up his sleeve.

One such defense, assuming the white-haired stranger was sensible enough to read between the lines and postulate it as such, was that of a faint golden twinkle nestled perfectly in front of the Moon, flickering just bright enough to obscure the form of whatever was producing it.

"If you're looking to solicit 'protection services', don't worry," Yun continued with a faint sneer, "I have that covered, as well."

[attr="class","mouths1"]Oh, what bravado! The chest-puffing, the unsubtle displays of intimidation, it was all really charming. Yun had to physically restrain himself from sniggering. Surely this man had better things to do than assault young people, did he not?

The gamer watches as the beefy behemoth summons a roll of boxing tape, unraveling it in thick layers over each of his sausage-like fingers. Wow. He actually is being serious. Yun would have made a quip, but there were definitely better moments for it than this one.

Still, the walking pile of bricks readily acknowledged Yun's absence of fear, and felt it necessary to remind him why this assessment was incorrect. Such deterministic thinking always spelled a person's downfall in the end.

Yun tensed as the giant lunged forward with trained precision, pulling his shoulder back only to throw his fist with the intent to punch his head clean off. A simple approach to a supposedly simple opponent, apparently.

The smaller, leaner man shifted leftwards and allowed his body to fall neatly away from the approaching hulk, then fluidly entered a sprint, darting swiftly into a nearby junction that led into a narrow corridor, one the man would definitely have trouble slipping through with his massive frame.

Yun scowled, dipping behind a wall in the hopes of losing his line of sight. That definitely could have gone better.

[attr="class","mouths1"]Yun's ears picked up the shuffle of footsteps and labored grunts, provoking from his lungs a reflexive gasp. The bearish brute chose to follow him into the alleyway, rather than simply up and leave? The prodigy had to give him credit for embracing the spirit of tenacity; if anything, it made for a more challenging scenario for him to overcome.

Just in the nick of time, Yun's slender form disappeared into a nearby pocket of shadows as the lumbering tower of muscles barged his way through the barrier, slowly and quietly maneuvering its way between a jumbled pile of pipes and oil barrels stacked on top of one another for additional cover. Occasional glances towards the Moon and the mysterious golden shimmer hanging before the giant silver disc gave Yun the intestinal fortitude to maintain his composure and avoid being spotted.

The titanic man called out to nowhere in particular and moved his way toward an abandoned shed of sorts, certain he had found his quarry. He was even willing — and physically able to — tear his way through a cluster of rusted iron chains, just for the chance to dig his mitts into somebody's bones.

Yun raised an eyebrow. Something convinced him that this freak was desperate for a fight, and if he had the brawn to literally pulverize a handful of iron, then allowing him any kind of physical contact, even for the briefest of moments, would spell a very painful terminal experience.

For now, it was best to remain invisible. The rhythmic pulse of hard techno continues to thump and bump further into the night.

[attr="class","mouths1"]The behemoth paused, leaving Yun in a state of suspense. Too many stimuli prodded at his brain, too many odors and noises. He could feel the music growing louder, becoming synchronous with the adrenaline that coursed and pumped through his veins.

Beads of sweat begin to form on his brow. Yun sighed quietly. He just had to wear leather tonight.

Suddenly, the towering Goliath turns with a snarl, zeroing in towards Yun's precise location, demanding that his soon-to-be-victim seriously reflect on his poor life choices. For once, he was half-inclined to consider that as an option.

Yun took one final glance toward the enigmatic golden glint, then bolted from behind the industrial detritus into a daring charge, intending once again to draw the bronzed monster of a man into taking pursuit.

The next time one turns their attentions to the Moon, the metallic presence that glimmered bright like a star would no longer be there; it will have completely vanished without a trace.

As for the prodigy, he opted to continue pulling the brutish fellow along the dark passages of the Shibuya alleyways, drawing closer and closer to the source of the techno music, its tempo accelerating even faster as if it were synchronized perfectly to Yun's heartbeat, echoing the exciting passion he felt from this game of cat-and-mouse.

But who was the cat? And, more importantly, who was the mouse?

[attr="class","mouths1"]An idea burst its way into the forefront of Yun's active thoughts. He could lose this juggernaut in the crowd. Only a complete maniac would launch an assault against civilians, and it certainly didn't seem like this man had anyone else on his agenda to pulverize in the foreseeable future.

Betting his chips on this one gambit, the star-haired cardsharp turned a final corner and found himself barreling shoulders first into a small crush of passersby, momentarily disrupting the collective of people long enough to regain his bearings and close in on the entrance to LAIR, an off-Shibuya nightclub and the source of the eccentric techno beats that rocked and throbbed the inside of Yun's skull.

Considering that everyone had roughly the same sense of fashion the prodigal gamer sported, strange hairstyles included, Yun felt assured he would blend in and took it upon himself to slip into the front of the line that, little by little, trickled between the burly, clean-shaven bodyguards and the sword-wielding thug that stood as this venue's vanguards.

Once he closed in, the lefthand sentinel lifted a hand, a signal for Yun to halt.

Play it straight, Yun. "Yun Yoshimasa. I'm here to speak to your boss," he spoke, coolly, glancing over his shoulders with a suggestive tilt of his head. "It requires his immediate attention."

The samurai-looking fellow initially took offense to the spiky-haired young man's bold request and nodded silently to his two subordinates, whom returned the gesture before allowing Yun to slip neatly between them to be accompanied to the manager's office.

This was bad. Yun was already biting off more than he could chew by simply attempting to sate his own curiosity for suspicious rumors. Now, he was forced to request the help of gangsters and delinquents to keep space between himself and his pursuer.

Using the music as a psychological metronome to even his breathing out and return his mind to a state of clarity, Yun started meditating as the brusque samurai escorted him through the club, towards an unlit back corridor leading directly to the proprietor's observation room.

He had to think of a better strategy, and fast. Otherwise, a lot more people apart from himself might get hurt.

[attr="class","mouths1"]Once the thick stench of cigar smoke reached his nostrils, Yun watched with nary a word of objection as the sword-wielding bouncer pushed the door wide open, causing plumes of tobacco-scented mist to drift their way out in volume.

There was no turning back. That psychopath was hot on his tracks without any arguable justification, almost as if he were--

"Send him in," says a thickly-accented voice unknown to the gamer, and without delay his small, leather-clad, pointy-haired body is promptly shoved into the club's backspace before the heavy steel portal was thrown shut with an audible slam.

Yun's eyes darted around the room like flies, searching for everything — anything — that could put some distance between himself and the testosterone-driven giant. Hopefully those bouncers were capable of doing their job. It was bad enough this club had lax security as it was. But, that wasn't something this man needed to know. He doesn't dare speak a word out of place. They might have liked to claim that they were 'businessmen', but Yun fully knew who, and what, they really involved themselves with.

"I heard from my boys that you said you needed to talk to me," speaks the gruff fellow from behind the optical protection of his bright red office chair, which appeared more like an elaborate throne where Yun was standing. "Said it requires my immediate attention?"

The space in dialogue was Yun's cue to speak with calm urgency. "I would not have requested your help unless I felt it was necessary. I need your protection." He glanced at the cluster of security monitors on the wall in a five-by-three arrangement, hastily moving from projector to projector for signs of havoc.

After a pause, the club's proprietor swivels on his chair, revealing a half-balding man in his middle fifties in a gaudy white suit and chomping down on a cigar as though he were trying to slice through it with his teeth, smiling viciously even as it lie tucked between them. "This sounds like it's your fuckin' problem, kid. I don't just hand out my services to milk-drinkers like yourself."

Yun clenched his teeth in frustration. What was it with people calling him a kid? Unwilling to argue the assumption, the duelist with flamboyantly-styled hair pointed directly at the monitor labeled "Front Door", drawing the gangster lord's attention, if momentarily. "It'll be yours, too, if you don't help me."

The tubby criminal grunts, a consequence of his poor health, and squints to get a better look. At first, he growls with audible anger upon noticing the visibly-injured body of one of his best bodyguards on the ground.

But this rage was quick to turn into something entirely different, an emotion that Yun truly did not anticipate: the gangster begun to panic. Though it was brief, his bloodshot eyes were able to take in a clear image of the man that was truly responsible for the scene outside. That psychotic grin was unmistakable.

"No! Fuck no! Get your fuckin' ass outta here, right now!" Alarmed and infuriated, the club owner stood up from his chair with mild struggle, using a ruby-tipped cane for both support and as a noise-maker to create a raucous within the observation room, hoping — or, more accurately, praying — that the display of intimidation would get Yun to leave.

"You're kidding me, right?" The gaming savant could hardly believe it. What made this man so terrifying that other people were compelled to descend into a state of primitive fear at the sheer mention of him?

"Out!" Yun barely managed to avoid being pummeled over the front of his head with a rogue snifter of brandy as it shattered in cacophonous fury against the wall behind him, a clear indicator that his presence wasn't welcome.

Quickly running out of strategies to employ, the prodigal duelist barely manages to scramble his way out of the heavy iron door and back into the club's main premises as the hard-hitting techno beats changed to a more accelerated tempo.

Ignoring the samurai-looking fellow that escorted him back — or was he condemning him to a fate worse than death? — Yun rapidly tried to lose himself among the throngs of the club's leather-wearing patrons, making sure to keep within his element by staying close to groups of fellow hair enthusiasts. He certainly needed a bone thrown at him right now, because LAIR was full of them tonight.

Yun curses beneath his breath. I could really do for a comeback victory right about now...