How exhausting it was having to deliver missions every week now for months straight… It was only to be expected with so many deaths occurring of course but still- it rather seemed like the Composer was trying to punish them as the duration of the games stretched on and on, even the Iron Maiden wasn’t enjoying erasing as much as she once did.
Well one thing was for sure: none of them would need to worry about the destroyed city with all those accumulated points and new Players popping up faster than she could say ‘vexatious,’ the job was becoming so mundane that Konishi started reconsidering her life and death choices.
One evening the lady Reaper retreated to the Realground with enough concentration to change the frequency to find herself in a desolate street late at night… It’s not like there were any more threats among the living as there were in the UG these days, not having her powers wouldn’t be much of a pain when the world of the living was still recovering from the blow some years back.
The now seemingly ordinary woman walked into the nearest establishment and much to her own dislike it had been the bar called Harukiya; what a dump. It was a wonder someone went through the trouble to restore that, it couldn’t have possibly survived that day certainly.
Like an elegant predator, she stalked nimbly down the filthy staircase that was a bit too narrow for her liking, a bit of a challenge not bumping her voluminous attributes on the dirty walls. and she slowed her pace to the rhythmic clicking of her heels around the comfortably deserted counter. Maybe she’d get some peace of mind in that forgotten shelter that smelled just a bit better than the Shibuya River.