Junichiro looked up from his book and froze. His heart instantly began hammering in his chest as adrenaline flooded his body and his fight of flight response kicked in. At first blush the middle aged man before him wasn't anything special. Though it was odd that he was wearing a thick yukata and jacket in the cool weather instead of something warmer. No, what was freaking Junichiro out was the mans hair. It was almost pure black, with the exception of the blonde sections of his bangs.
Fucking Azazel! The mother fucking Governor General of the Grigori! Head fucking honcho of all Fallen Angels! The king pervert himself was standing in front of his little table of knives and looking them over with a keen eye.
Knowing he had zero chances of running away from someone as powerful as Azazel, Junichiro fell back onto an old tried and true technique. Fake it until you make it. Swallowing his terror, he gave his best, if strained, smile to Azazel, "Good afternoon, sir! Feel free to try out any of my knives that catches your interest on the provided produce. I can guarantee their durability and ability to hold and edge."
Azazel hummed before reaching out and picking up one of the gyuto chef knives and examining it closely, "This is very well made. Who made it?"
As he asked his question, his eyes locked on Junichiro. For his part, Junichiro really really wanted to lie about who made the blades. He also wanted to demand what the hell the final boss of the Grigori was doing just wandering around a random open air market in a small city in Japan?! Sure, Azazel might not be some big bad evil guy like Rizevim or Kokobiel, but the last thing Junichiro wanted was ANY supernatural attention.
Realizing he'd stalled a bit and knowing he couldn't lie, Junichiro answered honestly, "I did. I hand crafted every blade you see for sale."
"Ho? Interesting. You do good work kid."
With that, Azazel set the knife down and was on his way. It wasn't until Junichiro could no longer see the fallen angel that his whole body broke out into shivers. He'd never been so terrified of anything in either of his lives. What the fuck was Azazel of all people doing here?! FUCK! He wanted to leave, right then, but couldn't. He might be a bit of a thieving bastard, but he liked to think he had some honor. So, despite the rapant fear and desire to run the fuck away, he stayed. He stayed because he had one last custom order to pass over, the katana. He was expecting the second half of the one point five million he'd charged for the job. In other words, if he left now he'd be leaving behind seven hundred and fifty thousand yen and one really pissed off customer.
The next half an hour of waiting for his customer was torture. When the man, looking to be in his fifties, finally showed up, Junichiro completed the transaction as fast as he could while being polite. Once the old man had left, he quickly packed up the rest of his unsold goods and took off.
Junichiro sped his way through the city, even taking the risk of using his notice-me-not bracelet to be practically invisible to everyone so he didn't have to obey the speed limit. He wasn't stupid through and never ran a red light. That way lay stupidity and accidents. Even then, he made excellent time to the junkyard and sped his way inside.
Junichiro sped his way through the city, even taking the risk of using his notice-me-not bracelet to be practically invisible to everyone so he didn't have to obey the speed limit. He wasn't stupid through and never ran a red light. That way lay stupidity and accidents. Even then, he made excellent time to the junkyard and sped his way inside.
As a runaway Junichiro was intimately familiar with go bags and had one prepped to go at a moments notice. It sucked that he would have to leave behind all of the equipment that he'd managed to get his hands on but it was all too big, even with Bags of Holding. It'd take too long muscle and magic the heavy machinery into one of them. Instead he grabbed the bag that was prepped for him to throw random shit into and started to ransack his own stuff.
The machines might need to be left behind but there was no way in hell he was leaving behind the precious metals, semi-precious gems, and other expensive materials used in his work. He quickly and efficiently tossed his stuff into the bag with hardly a care. Tools, paper, ink sticks, small blocks of gold and silver, small collections of gemstones, expensive pieces of wood, all of it vanished into the bag.
"Quite an interesting place to work out of."
No matter what anyone may say about this moment in the future, Junichiro would forever swear that he did not scream like a little girl and jump in the air. Though after he did land from not jumping, he spun around to see Azazel lounging against the door frame of his work shed, "I gotta say, given the conditions you're working in, your work is even more impressive than I initially thought."
Junichiro didn't bother answering the man. His go bag was on his back and he had most of his expensive materials, he'd just have to buy more replacements when he found a new spot to settle down. That being the case, he looked around for a possible escape route, naturally the only one was blocked by the twelve winged fallen angel.
"Hey now, no need to be afraid. I just wanted to talk. Maybe ask you a few questions."