Cataclysm // Demon Slayer Deku

Emerald

The unrelenting stench of smoke and bad breath assaulted my nostrils. Coupled with the smell of alcohol created an overall potent aroma within the bar.

I guess this is why people get mad at me when I talk while smoking...

The crowdedness of the place was frustratingly horrid. Nearly impossible to push past people and find the exit, no matter how hard you may try.

The ear piercing music blaring within the bar for everyone to hear, adding an extra layer of sound to the already loud bar. One would have to yell over everything else to have a decent conversation with someone.

Even if one were to put on earplugs, it wouldn't do much good, one couldn't get away from the music and yelling. The rattling and chattering of glass bottles as they slid across the bar table coupled with the rest of the chaotic antics of this bar, would be enough to overwhelm anyone's senses. Well. Almost anyone's.

As an information broker who often meets up with clients in places like this, I've grown accustom to all of this chaos. I barely ever pay much attention to it.

Of course this wasn't an ordinary bar, it's one where many, many criminals and underground figures come to drink until all of their problems washes away like grains of sand on a beach.

In a sense, despite the chaos, it is peaceful here, especially sense no fighting or confrontations are to take place within the bar. It is a safe haven for all illegal, underground figures.

I sat alone in a corner of the bar, decently away from the rest of the crowd, tapping my foot on the wooden floor beneath me. I lifted a cigar to my mouth, igniting the end with a lighter and blew smoke out into the already polluted air.

Am I gonna die from lung or heart problems? Yes. Do I give a damn? No. Honestly, I'm a well-known info broker in the underground community. I'm going to die sooner or later, either from smoking way too much or by an enemy who wants me gone.

Either way it doesn't matter. All that matters is that by the end of the day, I'm paid. That's all that matters to me.

"Where is that kid, anyways? He's running late..." I thought, checking my watch. Sure enough, almost as if on cue, I heard a light, small voice say my name.

"Giran."

Looking up at my client, I greeted him with a wide grin, cigar held in place by my teeth clamping down on it.

"Took ya' long enough, kid," I said, leaning back against my chair, kicking a leg up on the table in front of me, resting it there. The kid proceeded to sit down opposite to me, face hidden behind that mask of his.

Emerald.

A recent vigilante who made his debut a little over a year ago after saving a man from a fire caused by Endeavor, however, that little bit of information obviously was swept under the rug by his lawyers and agency and was never made public.

I narrowed my eyes at Emerald, who shifted in his seat as he looked around the bar, as if he was uncomfortable being here. I smirked slightly. A high profile vigilante, uncomfortable in a bar? Hilarious.

He wore an old-Japanese style haori, hung around his shoulders, stretching down below his waist. Haori itself being jade green in color, depicting an ancient Japanese dragon wrapping and twisting all around it. In between the winding body of the dragon on the haori were various philosophical symbols, such as yin & yang and ouroboros. A hood was connected to the top collar part of the haori that hung over the kid's head, slightly concealing his hair.

However, if you look closely enough you could quite easily make out a few tufts of green hair sticking out.

Underneath the haori was a black kimono with a strong jade green tint to it. The kimono itself was oversized and baggy, way too big for someone so small. I still wonder why he wears such oversized clothes, but I've never been one to judge another person's fashion sense.