Hungry Hungry Hollows(Open)

The roads were packed with cars, and no normal person would've been able to get more than a few feet before finding themselves blocked in. But Yaksha lurked through the streets quietly, with a poise that made it seem like it was perfectly natural for him to pass through every car he met, and an air of what almost could've passed for entitlement; this was a place he had every right to be, and he knew it. Anyone who tried to tell him otherwise would've had as much luck telling a rock to weep. He flicked the occasional hand, sending thin scratches along car doors, and bending side-view mirrors. He could already see people starting to glare at their neighbors, all but certain where these things were coming from...and he laughed. None of them would've wanted to know if they could. On any other day, he may have lingered around, and sought out some lucky-or unlucky, perhaps. Who could tell?-soul with even just a hint of spiritual awareness, and pull his strings. But today he had work to do and places to be.

He had felt the enormous outpouring of reiatsu from nearly the other side of the town; the anguished cries of a soul preparing to turn was unmistakable to Yaksha. He was moving through the cars, almost reflexively toying with every vehicle he passed, but he had a clear goal. He had followed the string of chakra, and even now he could hear ragged breathing, and almost heart-wrenching whimpers. Yaksha remembered that sound; it was the sound of a soul in the last stages of losing its mind. The hunger was coming, preparing to overtake it...and around it there were two, perhaps even three hundred people, all packed in their vehicles and buckled tight. It was as good as a buffet...But for whom? There's always a bigger fish...and you hooked me. Let's see if you can keep me on the line?

He began to hunch forward, his hands slipping out from the ragged cloth he wore. The fingers on them began to waggle back and forth dangerously, while he scraped one of them along the ground; sparks flew up, hitting nearby cars and falling off, and a few of the humans began to ogle at the inexplicable flames forming. Yaksha shook his head back and forth, slinking closer and closer to the almost fully-formed hollow. "Gods...your reaitsu is almost suffocating. This close, I can barely even breathe. What kind of hollow you would've made...I would've loved to see. But this is just too appetizing for me to resist...not to mention the fact that you'd almost certainly attract too much attention. No, no...you have to go."

The man turned to Yaksha; it was a body-builder, his entire body rippling with muscles. He seemed to have been crossed with a gorilla somehow, as thick fur was growing along his entire body; his clothing was lost somewhere within, and the first vestiges of his mask were forming, the thick whitish substance flowing over his face. He managed to whisper as his eyes rolled around in pain. "I...please...make it stop hurting."

"It doesn't stop hurting. Not even when it's done. All I can do for you is this..." Yaksha's head shot forward, and there was a crunching sound as his teeth snapped shut around the mask, crushing it. There was a sigh of relief, and the faint sounds of someone trying their best to eat politely while using just their hands.

THE CHAINSMOKER

ASUMA NAKAHARA

Artist: Wu-Tang Clan - Song: C.R.E.A.M (Instrumental) - Word Count:

It was as easy as booking a cheap hotel room. That is, to go to the Human World from Seireitei. Probably a good five hundred years ago, you'd have to go through a whole shitload of paperwork which became increasingly extra considering how many people wanted to go there on a daily basis. Back then, people had their own private Senkaimon and crap; They probably still do, but it isn't as much of a pain in the ass to use it when you need to. Just say you're leaving, just about, and you're gone within the next day or so.

One Asuma Nakahara crouched against a wall on the top of one building, so as to avoid being seen by those on the ground. Asides from the samurai-style sword hanging from the left of his waist, he was dressed in an attire befitting that of the people in this world. A camo-green jacket covered Asuma's whole torso, and down to the space between his hips and knees. Under it was a simple black hoodie with a rather demented checkmark symbol on the front of it. He also wore a simple pair of jeans, bottoms pushed up by a yellow pair of boots made by some company called Timberland.

Next to his person was a brown paper bag which reeked of herb.

Asuma would put his hand into the bag and pull out a small container filled with a green, grass-like material. He'd have bought more, but marijuana is expensive in this world. He then would take that weed, and begin rolling it into a piece of what appeared to be paper towel that he picked out of his pocket. When it was all said and done, he had made a roughly pin-shaped stick which he would then put in his mouth by one end.

Before he could light the other end up, he felt something: Spirit pressure. It was just about pouring at this point, and it seemed near unmistakable: A soul. There goes my vacation, Asuma thought as he got up, and began jumping rooftops like puddles.

The only reason Asuma was able to do that at the speed he did was because he was rather decent at Hoho, though he almost did end up falling into a few walls. As he ran down the spirit energy trail, he couldn't help but noticing that there was another spiritual presence making itself known; He was totally hoping that it wasn't some hollow trying to eat that soul.

.......And there goes that.

Stopping to see the event unfold before his eyes, he would place a hand on the handle of his sword and lay it there.

Looks like he has to go to work today.

Coding Altered From: [THEFROST]'s