Match of the Millennium

Description: Having spent the better part of two years mired in her job, Katarina finally returns from a brief vacation eager to resume work. An unexpected task leads to her seeking out a particular individual with a unique talent for violence, only to find a kindred spirit eager to join her on the hunt.

[KATSURO]
Being more or less sent all across the world at such frequency, Private First Class Kirikawa doesn't really have... what could be called 'a home', truth be told. What would be the point in getting a mortgage or even a rent contract to a place you could probably spend only maybe a week a year in? So even in Southtown, which somehow ends up being his most common posting, he usually ends up staying in the local base's bunk houses.

Or, you know. In some seedy motel in town if he happens to have spent a free night doing... stuff. You know. What happens in Kabuki-cho stays in Kabuki-cho and all that.

This evening isn't one of the evenings he's spending in town, however, so Katsuro can be found in one of the numerous bunking rooms across the base. Two bunk beds a room, but... for some reason, no one is making use of the other three sleeping spots here. Probably for the same reason most people on the base end up giving the infamous Bloodhound Kirikawa a wide berth. Most people end up finding him a bit... 'off'. But even if they don't, his reputation precedes him, and it turns out a lot of NOL personnel would rather be safe than sorry.

At least that gives him some peace and quiet for the end of the day. A time he is mostly spending by way of doing maintenance on his trusty sword, carefully running a whetstone along the blade while he is sat on the bed. His trademark jacket and vest are draped on a chair nearby, leaving him in his (rather strange choice of) tight leather pants and white dress shirt.

[KATARINA]
The past couple of years have been relatively quiet for the NOL.

After the initial chaos of the Majigen incident, the war against Justice and its Gear army, the chaos that resulted from those fools in the Sacred Order trying to establish their own nation in the middle of a bloody fairy nest, and the insanity of the Black Dragon's open assault on Southtown things have, by contrast to such 'exciting' times at least, become rather boring.

Which isn't to say that there is nothing do! Even in times of peace, a military has duties to attend to. There is the matter of replenishing lost troops and training their replacements to the necessary standard. Unlike the Sacred Order, the Librarium doesn't simply accept whatever riffraff wander in off the street. There are proper boot camps for filtering out the undesirables whose attitudes fail to match the rigid discipline required of a soldier. Military academies impart the necessary knowledge for understanding and combating the supernatural threats that the NOL deals with on a daily basis. Magical tests for determining who among the potential recruits will actually be capable of grand feats and who is little better than cannon fodder.

The world at large had taken a far softer stance on the addition of darkstalkers and other supernatural things to their daily lives than was prudent. For every friendly cat girl or forest spirit that had come slinking out of the darkness in the intervening years, two more vicious monsters preyed upon the innocent, taking advantage of the incredible leeway given to their kind by bleeding heart fools. Naturally, those who had welcomed the beasts into their homes with open arms turned to those who had warned them against it for help when they inevitably bit the hand that feeds, shamelessly granting all manner of far-reaching authority for the NOL to deal with such threats. Bloody hypocrites.

As such, there is always work to be done. While the Librarium has spread its roots most deeply into Japan, thanks to majority of the worst incidents having taken place in Southtown directly, there is always a push to expand its authority. The Imperator had decreed that the NOL's mission was total control over all matters arcane, be that magic, artifacts, or beings of supernatural origins. Those unaffected by the chaos had been initially reluctant to give such a powerful paramilitary organization operating authority within their borders. The Sacred Order had contributed to that, outright opposing the NOL's more ruthless approach to dealing with rogue warlocks and monsters. But, unsurprisingly, as time has passed and the threat of unchecked darkstalker activity grown more clear that reluctance has steadily withered.

With that growing acceptance around the world has come the need for fresh expansion. New installations are being constructed almost constantly somewhere in the world. Military fortifications for stationing troops, listening posts in remote locations too hostile to larger installations, airfields for magic ships and Shebalve squadrons, training academies, refueling stations, containment prisons, reliquaries; the list goes on and on.

As commanding officer of the 1st Engineering Division, Captain Katarina Shimotsuki - newly promoted after years of exemplary service befitting someone of her lineage and reputation - has been working almost nonstop. Always one to take a more direct hand in the dispensation of her duties, out of pride if nothing else, the young Duodecim scion has all but run herself ragged over the past year or so. Every edifice constructed under her guidance had to live up to the highest of standards, both in form and function. Any troglodyte could slap a few walls together to create a rudimentary palisade. What she creates is nothing less than art, from the bricks of the walls to intricate defensive magics woven into that very stone, every little element is a masterpiece of design.

That kind of focus, however, has taken its toll on her. And she might well have kept on pushing had a surprise visit from her father not ended with him all but commanding her to take some time off. Begrudgingly, she had relinquished to his wishes and spent a couple of weeks recuperating back in Southtown amidst the luxury of her primary office. Now that her furlough was coming to a close, however, the young officer has been eager to get back to work.

With her last project in capable enough hands, Katarina has turned her attention to the Librarium's newest major operating center - the United States. The USA had been one of those countries which sided against the NOL in times past. Getting a foothold there was quite a major accomplishment, an opportunity which must be capitalized upon quickly.

Katarina had been drawing up her plans for the new facilities when other less expected matters had been dropped into her lap. As evidenced by her black uniform, the Shimotsuki scion frequently found herself being called upon to assist with matters of Intelligence. Her rather unique talent to detect lies proved quite useful in the ferreting out of information from otherwise reticent sources and her noble status allowed her to interrogate individuals of high station who might otherwise avoid scrutiny thanks to the Librarium's somewhat old-fashioned class system.

Today, however, she is neither a spy nor an inquisitor, but a huntmaster. Not the sort of work that she typically engages in but the idea of stepping outside the bounds of her usual comfort zone and putting her lesser used martial talents to work is not entirely unappealing. It's been a long time since Katarina last went hunting but she's fairly certain her skills haven't rusted too badly. And the first thing every hunt requires is a hound to put the quarry to chase.

Becked in her full military regalia, Katarina stands out among the enlisted scurrying about the halls of the barracks like a queen bee striding amongst the workers of her hive. The symbols of her nobility are clear, a regal hawk emblazoned upon the front of her coat while a roaring lion's head radiates holy light in solid gold across the front of her military cap. The heavy greatcoat and towering cap she wears all but conceal the young officer's body from view, leaving only her face partially visible between the high-necked collar and short brim. Sharp crimson eyes regard those who pass her with quick glances, her gaze soft but filled with intelligence and awareness.

She pays no mind to the minions as she makes her way with purpose towards her goal. Everyone seems to imperceptibly shift away from her path as she walks, pushed aside either by her reputation or the subtle enchantment that wafts around her like a pleasant spring breeze compelling all those who draw near to regard her with respect and admiration. Such basic charms are all but useless on those with any real magical talent or spiritual protection but against the low-level grunts filling this place she has no difficulties parting the ocean of busy soldiers to make her way through the chaos in a timely fashion.

Mailed knuckles rap sharply against the door of Katsuro's lonely little dormitory, three quick knocks proving to be all the warning he gets before the handle turns and the young officer invites herself inside. Striding into the small room, Katarina glances around at the meager furnishings with a quick sweep of her eyes before settling that gentle gaze upon its sole occupant.

"Private First Class Kirakawa Katsuro."

The young woman's voice is strangely soft and wispy, reminiscent of a cloud being pleasantly brushed across his ears, but the element of authority behind them is impossible not to notice. It is not spoken as a question. As one who has the personal blessing of Hazama - and more importantly, the terrifying being lurking beneath that empty shell of a golem - Katarina's access to classified information is almost unrivaled. She not only knows who stands before her, having easy enough access to his pictures, but just about everything there is to find in his personnel files. Which is precisely why she is certain he is what she needs for this particular excursion.

"Congratulations, soldier. I have a job for you."

Her mouth quirks up into a faint smirk that is hidden behind her high collar but the smile clearly touches the corners of her eyes as well.

"How would you like to join me on a little field trip?"

[KATSURO]
Katarina so boldly pushing into the room without so much as waiting for the occupant to say anything doesn't seem to stop the PFC from the process of sharpening his blade where he sits. But he does peer up towards the door during it still, with a single amber eye not covered by that glorious mane of hair of his.

"Oooooh?" His head tips fourty degrees to one side while he regards the clearly highly decorated officer who has graced him with her presence. "Now what could earn me such an abrupt visit from someone so important?" THe man asks, a kansai accent thick behind his words. "What if I had been indecent, 'Young Master'?"

Such an initial response is likely... not surprising. PFC Kirikawa's records were... well, a thing to behold, afterall. A great many comments have been written up from various other commanding officers of failure to observe proper military etiquette, of disrespecting command structures, along with... well, many and varied disruptions. It's a strange thing, perhaps, to have someone like that in an organization holding itself to such a high standard.

Even the man's entry into the enlisted ranks was... unorthodox. Truth is, the records go well further back than his service history. Once, the man was an enforcer for an Osakan Yakuza family, of which's leading members seem to have mysteriously died eight years ago, with several more years spent as a mercenary. It was while the Katsuro was a mercenary that NOL evidently first took notice of him, following reports of a hitman employing an enchanted sword. That was when he was approached... violently.

As the report goes, once the mercenary was finally successfully subdued and imprisoned, he was eventually given a choice: either remain imprisoned for the foreseeable future, or become the Librarium's weapon.

Evidently, Katsuro was *enthusiastic* for the chance to fight enemies of the people who brought him down.

But so, what he might lack in proper decorum of a soldier to the point that a great many officers even consider it a *punishment* to be put in command of him, he has more than made up in the eyes of certain higher-ranking officials with the loyalty he otherwise shows.

The truth is, Katsuro Kirikawa is considered by certain choice officers as an useful hunting dog. The kind that doesn't question orders. The kind you can rely on to do the kind of jobs that most of the enlisted recruits do not have the stomach for.

And so, despite his joking comments directed at Captain Shimotsuki, when the PFC rises up to standing, there is clear interest in his gaze. "Hmmm..."

His nostrils flare out. Air heavily pulled in through them, along with lingering scents, in making use of the phenomenally sensitive scent of smell that must have been recorded in his files. Magically-enhanced, in fact.

"Mmmm... Is that bloodlust I smell on you...?" He asks then, his left hand picking out the crimson-coloured scabbard of his katana out while the right spins the weapon itself over, to be smoothly slid in to the sheath.

A truly feral, all-too-eager, tooth-baring grin tugs at his lips, then. Indeed, while Katsuro is considered by most to be unruly, in the end he is perfectly happy to have himself held on a leash by certain people. And as it turns out, with just that little judgement call he just made, he has decided Katarina could very well be one of those people. So there's only one answer he could possibly give her:

"At yer service, Captain."

[KATARINA]
The young noble's eyebrow quirks up at the uncouth greeting she receives, silently regarding her subordinate for a few moments before rolling her eyes. Stepping further into the dorm, the door is closed behind her with a gentle push that clicks the latch shut. Turning to face Katsuro, she adopts a casual at-ease stance, her hands folding neatly against the small of her back as she regards him with an amused look.

"Then I would have gotten a free show, I suppose. Though I doubt you have anything that I haven't seen before, Private."

As to be expected of someone who has read his file, Katarina's response to the disrespectful behavior is well tempered. Under normal circumstances she would have had any un-enlisted who spoke to her in such a manner publicly flogged or worse. Such a lack of decorum sets a bad precedent for the entire organization. But with this being both a private setting and a first meeting she is willing to tolerate a few unpleasant quirks.

After all, you can dress a rabid dog up in a uniform but that doesn't make it a soldier. Fortunately, what she needs right now - no, what she -wants- is a rabid dog, not a soldier. Her quarry deserves no better.

The captain's eyes widen slightly as the Hound takes her scent. In one swift moment he had managed to ferret out a secret that she has kept carefully guarded for years now. Astonishing and a little bit unsettling. Well, if she had any doubts about his qualifications that has very quickly cleared them up.

"Glad to hear it," she says, smiling again as he offers his obedience. "We have important work to do in the Imperator's name."

Her gentle voice is strangely warm and comfortable, almost alluring in a way, like a siren's song tempting him into compliance. The best way to handle an animal is either with soft soothing words or firm authoritative commands. With her talent for enchantment the former is her preferred approach. Gently coaxing people into doing what she wants often proves the least troublesome method, at least against those unable to ward off her magical enticement. And even if he is somehow shielded against mental influences, Katsuro's files had indicated an unusual desire to serve anyone willing to give him orders.

"As servants to Her will, it is our duty to hunt down and dispose of any and all threats that fall under our jurisdiction. I have been tasked with the construction of a more permanent base of operations in the United States. However, as luck would have it, that ridiculous martial contest - the Neo Fighting Generation, I believe it is called - is hosting their latest round of matches in Metro City. As you are no doubt aware, plenty of fools have embraced the presence of darkstalkers within our society as entirely mundane and this organization is no different."

Katarina pauses, allowing him to soak in that information. It shouldn't be hard to see where she's going with this. After a moment, her head cants slightly to the side and she regards Katsuro with an appraising look.

"I hear you are often referred to as the Bloodhound. Both for your unusual olfactory talents and your...enthusiasm in carrying out certain duties."

Her eyes close and she focuses on something only she can hear. The World-Song rises in a soft crescendo at her sudden attention, the Music Box ever eager to conduct its twisted symphony. She listens to the sounds that come from the man before her, the melody of his soul filling her mind. It is a hideous contorted thing, the once pure melody warped by the insidious taint of the grimoire. But even through the distortion she can sense the violence lurking within him, the primal desire to hunt and kill and feast.

For a brief moment, she takes a calculated risk and allows the mask to slip just a little bit. Something shifts in her face, a subtle but unsettling change to her expression. A glint of hidden madness twinkles in her bright crimson eyes as they slide open, a faint mirror of that primitive desire to inflict violence that Katsuro seems all too eager to put on display.

The young girl steps closer to the dangerous animal in front of her, slowly drawing nearer. Her approach is slow and deliberate, not out of fear or caution but anticipation. When there are but a mere handful of inches between herself and the eager dog, her head tilts gently back allowing him to see the subtle slasher smile that has contorted her pretty features.

"Her Radiance demands the blood of the unworthy. Shall we spill it together?"

[KATSURO]
The music of Katsuro's soul is something primal, indeed. Something that hints at much more of a beast than man. The desire to feast is constant. To feast in the decadences of this life, feast in the base pleasures -- and feast in violent delights. That desire to feast might very well be directed at the Captain, too, even if he doesn't show it directly or act on it.

In spite of it all, he listens to her with obedient attention. She might be able to tell, though, that even amidst that obedient front, it's something done out obligation. It's a necessity for getting to the fun stuff. This isn't really someone who has any true, actual respect for most of his superiors.

But something in Katarina catches his attention. It was that first whiff of her that got his curiousity, but that look she lets slip in the depths of her crimson gaze? Oh that makes him interested. It shows in the subtle lift of his brow.

The sheathed sword is slid upon his belt, to be hung by his hip, his hand resting on the hilt while he watches her. His own amber gaze stays firmly on those crimson orbs, in the glint of ferocity and lust he is so very familiar with.

There is a subtle change when she begins her approach. He still maintains that eye contact, but his own lid, slowly. Narrowing at her, while his fingers twitch subtly along the hilt of his sword. That hunger for violence is still there, still strong -- and still pointed at her, too. The subtle signs alongside the music she hears are a faint warning-- or, no. Not quite a warning. It is a challenge.

A challenge she seems more than willing to meet, even as that animalistic prodding of instincts, the warning of getting into a carnivorous beat's personal space gets stronger with each of her deliberate steps.

All leading to the apex of her finding herself stood so close to him and his metaphorical fangs. Close enough for him to have to tilt his head down to maintain that eye contact, where he is given the glimpse at the true self beneath the facade of the hardened, stoic military official.

And just like that, all the challenge fades away, washed away by the truly *excited* shiver that runs through his body. His hand comes up from it's resting place upon his weapon, running fingers along his own cheek instead.

"So many of the other officers have told me to hunt and kill, ya know?" He murmurs, barely able to hide the giddiness in his voice over this phenomenal discovery that has walked upon his den. "But the lot of 'em are all so boring. Just folks who're scared to get their hands dirty. Cowards. People who don't... *understand*. But you..."

His hand falls away from the side of his face and slowly, he leans down, closer to her, crossing a few more of those last remaining inches between the two, until his face is hovering nearly close enough for her to feel his breath upon her skin. And that smile of his more subdued now -- but it speaks of something else, this time. There is the maddened hunger still, yes, but this looks... satisfied? Blissful, even.

"Oh, I like *you*."

It may very well not be too different from the look of a dog in the shelter deciding that the human who has come to visit is the one who should claim them.

[KATARINA]
Those who have never been exposed to the World-Song will never be able to truly grasp just how intense of an experience it is to touch another's soul directly. The magics at work here are ancient, primal, drawing from the very fabric of creation itself within the Boundary to expand the young girl's senses in ways that no human was ever meant to experience. The sheer beauty of the music it creates is unlike any other sensation in the world, as if her very essence were being immersed in depths of human experience.

Every aspect of Katsuro's animalistic soul becomes a sound, an approximation an instrument that aligns with the nature of its emotion. Deep heavy brass notes for feelings of rage or suspicion, high lilting woodwinds for happiness and relief, somber reverberating strings for sorrow and anguish, and so many other subtle variations in between. It is a melody that no mortal hand will ever be able to create, its majesty unrivaled in all of creation.

Yet, within that song of unparalleled beauty there is a flaw. Like most things in this disgusting illusion of reality the point of contention is human in nature. The Music Box facilitates her ability to commune with the world's underlying structure in a way that a mortal mind can understand, translating the obscene quantities of information upon which reality is built into simple music. But that translation is imperfect - or perhaps her mind simply cannot comprehend even that reduced complexity without side effects.

Precisely what sort of madness grips Katarina is beyond the Hound's ability to perceive in that brief glimpse that she gives him into the depths of her corrupted soul. For all he knows she's just like him - another twisted creature that enjoys the simple pleasures of spilling blood and reveling in the animalistic satisfaction of sinking her fangs into the throat of her prey. If so she clearly hides it better.

But, no, there is something a little different in that crooked smile that she gives him. Some element of conscious choice, of awareness and control. Whatever she is, Katarina is no animal driven by base instinct - she's something much worse.

For several long seconds, the two killers stare each other down as the Hound lowers his face to hover in front of her own. Mere inches away from the fangs of a beast that might well decide to tear her throat out on a whim, she exudes nothing but confidence. This close she can practically smell the bloodlust wafting off him in much the same way that he had sniffed out her own, the discordant notes of the corrupted song that is his soul tense and eager at the prospect of a fresh hunt. There is no hint of fear in Katarina's blood-red gaze, no sign of revulsion at the aura of primal hunger of the creature in front of her - only acceptance and authority.

The wicked smile on Katarina's face slowly recedes to an enigmatic smirk in the wake of that intense connection. An understanding has been established, the beginnings of a new bond between master and pet. He has seen what lies beneath the surface of her carefully crafted persona and she has accepted him for what he is without judgement. Two bloody peas in a murderous little pod.

This is not the first time that she has revealed her darker nature to a subordinate, nor is he the only good little doggy she has in her stable. The fox-demon Renka had been taken under her wing more out of spite than any desire to actually forge a working relationship. Such creatures are little better than beasts but carry with them the delusions of being treated as an equal. Events conspired to leave her all but dead and at the mercy of the demon she had been tormenting for months, yet despite her harsh treatment of the fox she had proven herself strangely loyal.

Renka's reaction to the revelation of her master's true nature had been decidedly less approving. She was horrified at the darkness inside of Katarina. Even so, the fox had dutifully followed orders to keep the truth of her tainted soul concealed, even going so far as to become complicit in hiding away a powerful artifact which had been given to her by none other than Terumi himself.

Her cute little secretary would almost certainly balk at the idea of being considered one of Katarina's pets. She always had a stubborn will, that one. But where the kitsune showed revulsion, it seems her new minion has nothing but eagerness to offer in light of learning what drives his master's tainted heart.

"I had a feeling you would understand."

A gauntleted hand comes to rest on the side of his face, the intricately articulated metal fingers cool to the touch and strangely gentle.

"Now then, my Hound, are you as eager as I am to begin the Hunt?"

[KATSURO]
All the warning challenges are gone from Katsuro's body. As it turns out, there never was any need for any kind of enchanting magics. Even if Katsuro had never felt any true authority from any of his other commanding officers, and more as means to an end for fulfilling the desires he could not fill anywhere else... this is different.

THere's an understanding he has never seen with anyone else he has faced within this organization before. A connection. Even if not entirely the same in their insanity, still similiar enough for recognition to be felt in their mirrored gazes.

And the kind of authority no other commanding officer has managed in invoking upon the Bloodhound before.

The reach of her steel-covered hand is met not with the flinch of a threatened or scared hound, but a willing tip of his head when that cool touch comes, with his eyes closing. It might not feel as comfortable and affectionate as it would against bare skin, but still. It holds enough meaning behind that gesture, still, a gentleness accepted by a normally unruly, rabid hound.

Unspoken language of the body a dog uses to indicate that it feels safe. But that's not all, this time.

"Yes..." Comes his answer, then, before he turns his head further, to let his nose brush against that chilled, metallic palm, all but nuzzling at the hand of the Captain. "I'm eager to hunt with you."

And then, of all things, he even presses his lips briefly against the steel of her gauntlet. Much like a dog would lick his master's hand. A willing show of submission.

"For you."

[KATARINA]
Behind the concealing rim of her greatcoat's collar, Katarina's smile widens again.

Despite the elation she feels at having finally found a compatible companion she manages to keep the manic emotion from touching her face this time. Her control over such things is almost absolute, a result of years of careful mental discipline and paranoid wariness. Most of the Librarium's vast host of members would be unable to appreciate the beauty of the power she wields. They would see nothing but a monster, the broken mind of a mage that had gazed into the abyss and been fractured by the truths she found there. Even the other Duodecim likely wouldn't understand the unique burden she carries.

And so she carries herself with careful dignity and grace, all traces of her tainted mind hidden neatly away behind a mask of charismatic charm. The perfect image of a refined and noble heir to the great founding houses of Novis Orbis Librarium.

Having established the rapport she sought, that mask is now neatly fixed back into place. Hopefully her hound will understand the need for discretion on her part. Much as she would find it liberating to simply unleash the twisted desires coiled around her black heart as he does, she doesn't have that luxury.

And, if she's being entirely honest, that part of herself is still frightening to the young woman. She hasn't gone completely insane, not yet at least, though with every passing day the Music Box seems to chip away another little fragment of the innocent girl she used to be. Among the broken and shattered pieces of herself that now lie discarded on the floor of her soul it has become increasingly difficult to recognize which reflection is truly her own.

At first the dark urges that began to creep up unbidden in the back of her mind had been shocking, nauseating. But when she realized that only by indulging in those twisted desires could she once again hear the purity of the untainted World-Song she had stopped killing out of pure necessity and started to gorge herself like a junkie itching for her next fix.

She had tried to take the edge off her need by indulging in more mundane vices - expensive wine imported from the most prestigious of vineyards, incredible food cooked by famous chefs personally for her consumption, decorating her office with vivid artworks that moved the soul to emotion, fanciful clothing crafted from only the most expensive and comfortable fabrics. Nothing could ever compared to the soul-deep satisfaction that came with hearing even a single note of the World-Song's pure and untainted magnificence.

Patting the side of Katsuro's face affectionately, the officer takes a step away and returns her hands to their resting place at her back.

"Excellent. Prepare whatever kit you need for travel, private. We leave on the first flight for Metro City."

[KATSURO]
Katsuro is perfectly willing to let his own joy of finding such a kindred spirit, someone so fitting to be his true master, show without any shame. For him, all those dark, violent urges may very well be something he was simply born with, and merely tempered further by his experiences and the presence of the sword stained with the blood of countless amounts of prey.

And he holds not an iota of shame in it, either. He does keep it mostly restrained in the open, but not quite to the same extend as the noblewoman before him does.

There is a happiness there, too. To be able to show himself for what he truly is to someone other than those ending up on the wrong side of his blade. Up until now, he has been perfectly happy to cut things down simply for his own enjoyment. But to find someone he could actually share with that joy in?

That is enough for him to fully admit a leash into her hand and live up to his nickname.

The pat to his cheek sees him nuzzling that cold hand once more, almost chasing after it when she pulls away -- but keeping himself in control once she's out of reach.

While he doesn't *quite* take on the proper behaviour of a soldier still, he *does* calm down from that outright leakage of the beast within once she has assumed that more proper posture again, herself. His own posture straightening up some, and his head dipping into a deep nod at her command.

"Won't need much. Be right with you, ma'am."

Log created on 09:41:11 09/25/2023 by Katarina, and last modified on 05:45:28 09/26/2023.