Red Strings & Broken Cages ー juuzou, s.

i

edited; February 27, 2016; 3:09PM 

     'Boring.'

     The investigator, Juuzou, anything but amused, blinked at the lack of entertainment. With his eyes casted down at the files piled up on top of the desk, he took notice of the edges peeking out and colored sticky notes with designated black-inked names placed on them. He took his time dozing off into the swirling random informations inside his mind, not realizing he had spaced out at the papers for a good ten minutes. The endless chatters of his comrades echoed into the abyss of his being, as muffled as a voice deep within the ocean and soon faded out like a low flame in a cold dark room - slow and sluggish.

     He let his eyes drag from his gaze at the stack of data contained papers to the buzzing investigators. Upon seeing the tight-lipped, brow knitted, hooded eyes plastered on their rigid faces, his teeth grazed his lower lip. To indulge in such a discussion which involved confusing tactics, unorganized reports and needless conversations (it shouldn't even be bothered to be talked about), he considered it quite a task. The possibilities of him, predicting the upcoming mission's success ranged from 80 to 100. It always has been for the past few days.

     A passing faint inside voice told him to pay attention to Investigator Houji's analysis about the rampaging ghouls in his previously assigned area - the 20th ward. Though the small white man living amongst his conscious insisted on taking a bite of his stacked lollipop buried in his pockets instead. He knew he should heed the investigator's words, but the tempting sugar coated stick kept him from doing so, after all, he certainly didn't want his slip-ups to happen again.

     Which still happened quiet often.

     However, a part of him, a side he's fond of, desired an awful and burning need to go visit his favorite doughnut shop (after hearing they had once again released a new product) and end the two excruciating hour meeting. Considering he had been sitting at the same position - after he fixed both of his legs on various locations, which he received a scolding personally from Investigator Marude for disrupting their concentrations. He allowed himself to lean down, look around at anything that may took his interest, and finish the remaining candies he had in his pockets. 

     "We need to find these wretched ghouls as soon as possible." The strong voice slipped through his already troubled mind, erupting his train of thoughts. He sucked in a breath to prevent a loud and pained sigh from coming out of his chapped lips.

     Ghouls. Ghouls. A word simple enough to explain the majority of his daily schedule. His small boned shoulders lowered as well as his eyes, every fiber of his existence on a triggering process to shut down. The likelihood for his ability to bear the nonsensical tales around him to snap varied to as close as a ten second bomb. Though the words of dedication which had dripped off his lips resonated and bothered him to no end, contradicting the feasibility of him turning back to his old ways. He blinked as slow as ever and leaned back against the hard steel.

     Juuzou placed a pale hand on his stomach, clutching it once. A soft grumble, barely audible, vibrated through his black shirt to his palm, a sudden reminder of his late afternoon snacks. A grieve memo dawned on him upon realizing the verifiable truth, of which he can't take pleasure in diving himself into some sweets. The image of the blissful act dispersed, disintegrated, destroyed, disappeared into tiny particles of thin air. He let his features frown at his helpless state and at the lack of his 'partner.' Where was the man when you need him?

     He sighed in a low tone and let his crimson eyes travel from the white desk to the man across from him; Investigator Sasaki Haise. His dark eyes held a glimpse of interest, staring straight ahead at the board in front of him, paying no heed at the gawking investigator across. Little by little, he started to observe the man's appearance, (with nothing else productive to do). He started from his frosted hair with black roots, which stuck out against the snow texture and faded into the remaining color. Haise wore a proper suit, compared to him, with a white coat (he didn't quite understand the purpose of wearing them) and down to his intertwined neat hands placed on top of the papers.