Logs: Welcome to Sumaru, Izo Imaizumi

IC Date: May 27, 2011
Who: Izo Imaizumi, Masahiko Irie
Location: Sumaru Prison
What: Izo arrives in Sumaru, amidst complications.

Sumaru Prison. There are two places that go by that name. There is one prison that is abandoned and used by children to play in, there is another one... One that is actually used to hold prisoners and let them serve their sentence. One of the prisons is a place where bandmates find new music and rehearse in their attempts to become better musicians, the other is a place where criminals are supposed to find remorse, but often share and learn how to be better criminals. It is in the second prison that an important meeting will take place.

The first to arrive to this meeting is the person who currently resides in prison. A man who has learned almost all there is to learn about crime, life, and the bloody overlap that is the Yakuza way of being. That man is Irie-sama and right now, he's hungry.

Dressed in a orange jumpsuit, the sixty-something man currently sits alone in a room that is usually reserved for those meeting with their lawyers, police, or other official business. His fingertips pushes against one another, making them appear to be five legged bugs mirroring one another as they flex and bend. His elbows rest on the table, so that his hands mask the lower part of his face, mostly hiding his lips save the glimpse of a small frown between the space of his fingers. Brown eyes stare at the door, waiting to see who comes to greet him this day. He is a patient man, after all.

The new arrival will find that when he gets to the prison's lobby area, there will be someone waiting for him. While there are guards asking for a sign in, there is a young man there that appears to be in his high school years. Dressed in a white business suit with a black dress shirt, Masahiko Irie seems to be a lad with a rather serious look upon his face as he waits for this mysterious new arrival, his own eyes searching the door in an unconscious parrell to his relative that is a couple of security checkpoints within the facility. The Seven Sisters student doesn't know WHY Izo has been called to meet with himself and his grandfather, but it must be important for Irie-sama to ask for the individual by name. After all, Irie-sama is not one to waste his time on fools.

The last month has been nothing short of a harrowing ordeal for Izo Imaizumi. He's come a long distance from home in space, but not in time: the wound in his stomach isn't healed, yet; the skin of his knuckles is closer to healed, but scabbing unavoidably, a source of minor self-consciousness in the classes he's thrown himself into as a welcome distraction over the course of May. There are other bruises, too -- wounds less easy to see, intangible things brought about by the way in which he's been suddenly torn from his old life and thrust into a new one...here in Sumaru, and in the greater scheme of things, confronted suddenly with a mess of supernatural impossibilities he does not understand.

Not a man of much expression or many words, there is nevertheless a faint glint of curiosity in the dark eyes that fall upon Masahiko -- curiosity, and surprise. He had expected something...else. Someone older, perhaps.

The door falls closed behind him.

The younger Irie's attention is grabbed as soon as Izo moves into the Prison lobby. He is studied up and down, checking off the physical descriptors given to him by the orchestrator of this encounter. Seeing as the stranger fits the bill, Masa moves toward him and gives a bow. "You must be Imaizumi-san. I am Masahiko Irie. From what I hear, it's an honor to meet you."

After the formal greeting is given, a nod is given toward the left of the room. A silver tray rests on a side table, large enough to cover most of the surface and long enough to be a little difficult for most to carry using the elegant handles on either side. The tray's contents are hidden by a silver cover that only has the proper kanji for the Irie household as decoration. "My grandfather asked that you be the one to take in his meal. He's on a special diet, so in working with his physician, the prison lets him get meals from outside." Of course, that isn't supposed to happen, but it seems that even in prison, the elderly Yakuza has strings he can pull.

"Irie-san." Izo's voice befits his stature, fairly deep, and also -- possibly for that reason -- naturally quiet. He bows in his turn, and -- in the manner of one who adheres to certain cultural traditions -- all trace of the discomfort caused by that gesture remains concealed, from both voice and tone. "The honor is mine." Straightening, he looks at the nearby tray. If his stoicism is somewhat antiquated by modern Japanese standards, so is his impulse to uphold other traditions: "I wanted to bring a gift. I wasn't sure what they would allow."

/What did they tell you?/, he wants to ask. /Do you know what it was that I did? If you did, could you explain it to me?/

He doesn't say either of those things, of course. He reaches for the tray and takes it carefully into both hands, cautious, lest something be jostled -- including himself.

The tray seems to be the appropriate weight and there doesn't seem to be any sort of jostling save the soft clink of china hitting china. Oddly enough, Izo only gets to move a few steps before the tray is taken by a guard. "You'll get this back in a moment," the man in uniform states. Perhaps getting the idea that the new guy might be worried by this, Irie raises a hand in a slow gesture with a small nod to assure the taller associate that all is well.

"It's fine. This is the time that you get a bit of grace due to ignorance. Enjoy it while you can... Because once you learn the truth, you lose the right to make excuses and have to take responsibility," Masahiko states in a gentle yet somewhat cryptic statement. The white suit gives a nod is given toward the guard and Masahiko moves toward the security checkpoint. While he is patted down and run through security along with Izo, the tray is allowed to go through without even a look over, carried by a guard around the metal detector. Once it goes through, it is handed back to Izo. Assuming that the new guy has no trouble with the checkpoint, a guard leads the so-called Yakuza Prince and the New Guy to where they need to be.

The two are lead through the prison, a place that seems to have some odd signs of tragedy that even those without keen senses can pick out. There are burn marks on the ceiling, cracks in the stone floor that would have had to be made with something with incredible power. There are even a couple of jail cells that are open, flowers and various forms of memorials left inside instead of prisoners. As the boy passes by them, he gets a small frown upon his features his eyes seemingly lost in thought. After passing the cells, he coughs and refocuses himself back on the present. "First time at the prison?" comes the simple question from Masahiko as he walks by Izo's side, Irie's gaze straight ahead instead of the person he's talking to. An impassive (but attentive) gaze greets Masahiko's prudent words, and Izo nods once, then follows silently as they go through the process of being temporarily inducted to the prison population. He relinquishes the tray, passes through security without incident -- he is already uncomfortable being here amidst lawkeepers with his face in plain view, his association to the family evident for anyone who cares to look; he would hardly have come armed or even wearing any object that might be looked at askance -- and only speaks again when Masahiko poses his question, turning his eyes to the side and downward rather than moving his head.

"Yes." For a moment it may seem as though that's all he intends to say, but some impulse drives him to add to that brief syllable: "I've seen the university campus and the inside of my apartment since I arrived. Not much else."

"Ah. <<No problem>>," comes the simple response from the teen, a little English thrown in seemingly for the hell of it.

There really isn't time for a response as the two are led to the room in question. The door is opened and the cold gaze and warm smile of Irie-sama greets them both. "I was wondering how long I was going to have to wait." The hands pulls themselves apart to give a pleased pair of taps on the table. "Now it is time to dine with family. We have a lot to talk about." Masahiko moves to take his seat across from his grandfather and considering that there is one more seat beside Masahiko, it is clear where Izo is to seat himself.

Does Izo know English? Hard to say; he nods and is quiet again, but any dossier of worth about him would surely have noted that he's a rapacious student, and -- English being a fundamental course -- it's likely that he has at least the basics of /that/ language, if not others.

Placing the tray down on the table's edge with ceremonial care, Izo bows, and in that deep bow slides the tray very slightly forward. It's a respectful presentation that ends with him seating himself -- and, for the first time, one of his eyes twitches with mild discomfort.

"Thank you both for coming," Irie-sama offers with an incline of his head. "I know it is hard for you both to find time to visit me despite your schedules.... But the heavens bless those that show respect to their elders."

A handle marred with a couple of liver spots and twice as man scars of various shapes and sizes moves to the tray's lid, lifting it slowly to reveal the bounty.

Various pieces of sushi seem to be the main course, a bowl of miso soup offering some something to wash it down. A thin film of plastic wrap keeps the soup from leaking out over the sides, which is removed somewhat awkwardly by the Yakuza boss. There is a can of soda, the Pepsi seemingly out of place with the rest of the dish. Perhaps wishing to join the fellow outliner for unlikely dinner pairings, a small envelope is folded up and placed underneath the can. It is this that Irie-sama moves to second, lifting the can and opening the envelope. While it has a small circle of water from condensation, it appears that the contents inside are safe, because he begins to read. There seem to be three sheets in total, the writing small enough that he has to squint to be able to read it properly.

Masahiko doesn't speak at all during the silence, merely waiting calmly as if this is a process he has done many times before. Irie-sama's hand moves toward the tray of utensils, getting the pen that under the napkin, chopsticks and soup spoon. There is one sheet of paper that is included that seems to have blank spots on it here and there, and it is that which Irie-sama uses to write. As he writes what appears to be orders of varying sorts, Irie-sama speaks to those who have audience with him. "So, Imaizumi-kun... How about you ask a pair of questions to start this exchange? Sure you have at least that many to ask me."

Izo...waits. He is not restless when he is focused, and he could hardly be more focused than he is now, feeling very much like Damocles must have felt sitting beneath that thread-hung sword, without much knowledge of what may come.

The question arrives almost as a relief. "Yes. I was told that someone would be able to explain what happened in Shinjuku, and why I was sent here. That's a very general question, but I can think of no other question I would rather ask." Beneath the table, he laces his hands tightly. The posture does not look natural for him: he is a sprawler by nature, long-limbed and catlike. The formality of the moment and the tension of it conspire to leave him looking ill-at-ease, though his expression yields no such thing.

The writing continues, Irie-sama seemingly able to juggle two tasks at once without batting a lash. "I suppose that is /the/ question, isn't it? Second only to the question that the man in the butterfly mask asked you."

A couple of seconds pass, Masahiko looking from Izo to his grandfather, trying to figure out what to say or if it is the time to speak. Like Izo, he is not sure what is happening, but seems more willing to express his confusion as he looks from one to another. Thankfully, the eldest here decides to offer some answers.

"In short, you have been blessed with a unique opportunity by the gods, Izo Imaizumi. The power you have is that of Persona. The ability to summon a representation of yourself and use it in battle. The news and some people call it head gods, others spirits. In the end, what they are called doesn't matter. What it means, however, is that you have the power to transform your future in a way few can. It is a gift that my grandson also shares, as do many in this region. It is why you have been called here. To learn more about your gift and ensure that it become the blessing it was meant to be, not the curse that you may currently consider it."

The man in the butterfly mask? Memory tickles, but fails him: that was a very, very long time ago, and in the present moment, buried beneath pressing concerns, he cannot remember what it is that the Grandfather refers to.

Coal-black eyes burn with some of that question's fire, however, as he listens raptly to what's said. His face is not immobile, merely subtle; his brows slide toward one another in a faint confession of his pensive confusion, but not enough to wrinkle his brow. When Irie-sama refers to Masahiko's possession of the same unique gift, Izo looks at the youth with mild surprise for the second time, and a repressed eagerness to press him with further questions -- no doubt those will come, later.

The silence that follows the answer is not brief. Izo thinks about what was said, and what it means to him; it resonates for a time before he's willing to speak again. "It saved my life." If he fails to curse this latest turn in his life's story, then he also seems hesitant to wholly embrace it; his words ring with indecision and uncertainty. He doesn't as yet know what to make of it, it seems.

But he has a second question to ask, so he takes advantage of it: "How am I to learn?"

As Masahiko hears that this young man also has the gift, his eyes open wide to the revelation. There was a gut feeling that it had to be something relating to the supernatural, but Izo is older than most. But like the New Guy, he doesn't express most of his questions. Mostly because it is not his time to talk. After all, Irie-sama is the one who called the meeting and it is he who is directing it.

"Your circumstances in how and when your Persona manifested is similar to Masahiko-kun's... Clearly a sign that you were meant to be together. It is one of many reasons why he will be teaching you how to use that gift and the other supernatural things of this world. While he is learning in many ways himself, he has made friends who are more knowledgeable than himself. If he cannot answer your questions, he will at least be able to direct you to those who might... And together you will learn and grow. He is a gentle, but powerful man... He will be more than willing and able to help protect your sister."

Masahiko looks again from his grandfather to Izo, a hint of red vanishing as quickly as it began... Nice words no longer being considered in the face of a new task.

The sheet is paper is finally completed, and it soon finds a home back in the envelope. A name of a Yakuza that Izo will recognize is written on the front and the envelope is handed to him, clearly expecting the young man to deliver it.

"There are many that have these gifts that try and abuse them. In fact, you likely past by the scars of those who tried to abuse their gifts of Persona to tilt a gang war in their favor." The chopsticks are taken up, the porcelain pair being used to pick up a nice piece of sushi. "I wish that all who had such gifts would use them to better mankind, but as we all know, power can be a very corruptive force, more so when it goes beyond what most mortal men can imagine."

To say that Izo has a great deal to digest would be an understatement. For him, the moment is akin to coming to the end of a hallway suddenly, only to find that it empties out into a vast valley: unexpected, overwhelming. The implication of power is dizzying, exciting, daunting; where power exists, there are always others who seek it for their own purposes and -- Izo, being a philosopher at heart -- is not unaware that there are dangers beyond that of the Sumiyoshi-kai that he may come to know in the days to come.

It's the sidelong mention of his sister that punctures those swirling internal thoughts, struck through them like a lance of chill silver. The words are benevolent, referencing protection, but Izo would not be Izo if he did not hear the threat in them: he is not enough to protect her on his own. The reminder cools him, and in its way restores some degree of clarity. He sets musings about his capabilities aside, and, looking between the two men in his company, dips his head in a nod, picking up the envelope and carefully tucking it into his coat's inner pocket after a glance at the name. Courier work is nothing new, after all.

"I will do my best to honor the family with my choices. I'm grateful for this opportunity."

A small smile forms on the thin lips of the elderly criminal. The offer of protection is seen as a threat. Perhaps it is meant that way. After all, a Yakuza's words often requires some reading between the lines. "I expect nothing less from you, Imaizumi-kun."

Masahiko is still silent, merely watching the exchange as if it were some sort of table tennis match.

"You are new in the ways of the supernatural. But you show promise in your character and resourcefulness... And I value wisdom as much, if not more, than power. After all, a blade that cuts down friend and foe alike is worse than a blade that never cuts at all. My grandson will teach you the Game of Gods, and you will become join him in the game. Do well, and you will have all that you wish out of life and more. Fail and you will damn yourself, but countless others." There is a pause given, clearly wishing to put as much gravity on that statement as he can. Taking in a deep breath, Irie-sama concludes with one simple sentence. "I will grant you one final question, then I must ask you to leave me to my meal before it chills."

One more question. Just one. Should he try to save it for later? No -- too impertinent. One more. Out of the virtual sea of questions he might ask, what should he value most? He debates, then shifts his perspective: what can he ask of the man across from him, that he could not ask of that man's grandson? Thought of in that way, the question must be obvious, and some of his hard expression must necessarily soften when he asks it, though he seems self-conscious about the personal nature of it, particularly with Masahiko in attendance:

"How is she? My sister."

He has not been home, of course, since it happened. He didn't dare -- not to visit, not even to write her a letter.

"She does not understand what has happened and she misses her brother dearly. Other than that, she is fine."

The answer is given in a matter of fact tone without Irie-sama looking up, as if expecting the question this entire conversation.

The high school senior, however, gives a small frown as he hears the exchange. Masahiko doesn't know exactly what is going on between his grandfather and Izo, but he isn't sure if it's good. After all, while Irie-sama does things for the 'common good', some of his methods are far from ones that most would consider fair or noble. Still, Masahiko rises and gives a formal bow. "Thank you for seeing us today, grandfather. I hope we will have a chance to be the people you believe we need to become."

Slowly, Irie-sama pushes away from the table, moving to stand up as he awaits Izo's farewell.

The answer is as much as could be hoped for. Izo takes it with good grace, and stands to add his bow to Masahiko's. "Thank you," he adds. "For everything." 'Everything', of course, is incredibly complicated...but he does not lack for sincerity, even so. He straightens, steps around the chair, and slides it neatly back into its former position, quarter-turning to the teenager beside him, whose lead he intends to follow.

A bow is given toward the two. "May the gods bless you in your endeavors. While you may have a tough road ahead, I have faith that it will merely make you men of distinction and honor." His well wishes offered, Irie-sama moves to his food to properly enjoy it. Masahiko closes the door behind him, and stands somewhat close to Izo as they are lead back out front. "So, um, guess we are working together?" the young man states with a rather large amount of uncertainity as he rubs the back of his neck and a smile that appears a little on the goofy side. After all, Irie's used to working with Yakuza people before in varying ways, there is something different about how Izo carries himself. And like most people, Masahiko is concerned with what he doesn't clearly understand.

It's the 'um' that gets an actually amused look out of the typically-reserved Izo. After such a tense and formal meeting -- tense for him, at any rate -- it serves to vent some of that pressure, and humor is what replaces it. This is, as Masahiko seems destined to learn, pretty normal for the Tokyo boy. "...sounds that way," he agrees, and then amends: "Me working for you, more likely. And hearing what you have to say." As they pass down the corridors toward the lobby, he looks over his shoulder briefly before returning his gaze to the slighter figure beside him, this time keeping them there, rather than on the hallway's end. "Is this safe to talk about openly?"

"No, not really... Not unless we keep this general," Masahiko points out as he glances around toward the cell blocks. "Most of the people here are Sumis are the prison fight a year or so ago... They sided with the people in a group we are gunna be fighting a lot, so ya." Masahiko's thumbs dig into the corners of his pockets as he looks staight ahead. "I figure we can talk about the supernatural another day. I find that most people like to dump this **** pretty fast and hard. Wasn't a fan when they did it to me, so I'll try and not repeat it for you. So, figure let you take some of this in tonight and when you're ready, we can get you situated in all of this a bit at a time over the next couple of weeks. When you and the other guy are ready, we'll see about 'moving forward'. If you have any questions before hand, I'll give you my cell so you can reach me anytime." He moves to get a business card from his wallet, handing it to Izo with both hands, the thumbs on top and all that good stuff.

The card is one for 'Emapthy for Apathy', a non-profit of some sort it seems. It has the e-mail and cell phone for Masahiko, who is listed as 'Student Volunteer Leader'. The notion of Izo liking his information in any form other than 'fast or hard' wins another little twitch of the lips out of the man who is ravenous for data of all kinds, at all times. It's a point that he's willing to let go of, if only because he's also ravenous for food, of which he was able to eat none earlier -- he had been too anxious about the meeting to come, and it isn't like him to go more than a few hours without food.

He stops dead in the hallway as he's given the card, in order to receive it with the proper formalities, taking his time in reading it before he secrets it away in the inner pocket of his coat, alongside the letter. He taps the outside of it with one finger, and arches one of those dark brows. "The other guy?"

"Friend of mine. He'll work fine with us, trust me. He does a little work for my grandfather here and there, but he's a good guy," Masahiko replies simply, pausing the conversation as they get to the front lobby. When he speaks, it is a bit softer so other people can't easily overhear.

"So, if you have questions, you can save them up for when we next meet. I tend to test the strength of those working with me, so bring some clothes you don't mind getting bloodied up. If you are green to this stuff, want to get you used to it in a controlled fight rather than the real deal. There is gunna be a lot of messed up stuff we'll be dealing with... So best to prepare you for it so you aren't like 'why are we fighting a giant phallic thing' and wanting to claw out your eyes." There is a brief pause before Masahiko gives a smirk. "Well, you might STILL want to claw out your eyes, but at least you'll be ready for it!"

A fight? Blood? Izo thinks /first/ of the size difference between them...and only then, afterward, of the knife wound in his stomach, still healing. That is probably a telling sequence of events, and something else for him to think about. When in doubt? He nods. That is also normal, for the boy from Shinjuku. "I'll be ready. I'd better get this letter into the proper hands. It was..." Good to meet you? Izo isn't sure; it would be hard to blame him for feeling uncertain about his new arrangement. Nevertheless, after a moment's hesitation, he follows through, deciding that it likely was: "...good meeting you. I don't have a card to give you, yet, but...I assume you know how to reach me, if you need me for anything."

As a fellow man of few words at times, Masahiko respects The Nod as a valid response. There is a black sedan, the door already open to take Masahiko to the place he needs to be next.

"Of course. Take care of yourself out there, Imaizumi-san, it's a f***ed up world you just got yourself into," the young man states with a confident smile, his final words coming a few seconds before he gets into the car. And with that, the young student speeds away to fight demons and protect the people of Sumaru!!! Or work on a history paper. One of the two.