A familiar feeling of being kicked in the ass hits Furyo. A spiritual abandonment, like winning the lottery only to have them cite a trick in the rule book to seize your winnings. He still has plenty money but they have taken his fancy cars and studio. He is functionally homeless and back to square one. He needs to travel hundreds of miles to beg sympathy from a tribe of giant cannibal warlords. That familiar itch of self sabotage comes calling. He decides to get a motorcycle and raise some hell with the Bōsōzoku before departing to the west. Their familiar haunts are desolate, places where the girls chill to watch the dudes burn out and ditch the cops are empty. Maybe they were rounded up or laying low after violence.
No legit business will sell him a motorcycle with his credit, but the Bōsōzoku will. Driving his Acura Legend around he just kind of cruises until he sees some mayhem on the roads. Crossing a bridge he comes to highway interchange and as luck would have it, two factions of Bōsōzoku fighting it out. Riding double on their bikes, they are lighting fire crackers and throwing them at each other, using lances made of rebar to knock each other into on coming traffic. Furyo can’t read the kanji but the colors and design look familiar. Watching some “out-of-towners” smash into the pavement. He stops to give the guy a hand. Furyo can see he is dying but the bike is still in pretty good shape. He says a prayer and takes the guys ride as the light leaves his eyes.
Furyo races up to catch up to the guys he knows. They react like they see a ghost and buzz the accelerator but they decide to fight so they peel into a parking structure. When they realize it’s Furyo on an enemies bike, they give cheers and quickly chug some beers. Now they are on the prowl for trouble. They end up drinking in a sleepy little fishing village outside Tokyo proper. The inn keeper is rowdy woman in her 30s who flashes them for tips and drinks like a fish. Furyo thinks “This is the place!” Until riot cops storm in and every body has to run out the side door while frustrating the cops with fireworks and zip guns. Racing into traffic they loop around to a couple more bars outside the scope of the all points bulletin.
The Bōsōzoku all arrive with more groups of girls and allies at a bar that looks wrong as soon as Furyo sees it. It looks like an old house but it is full of red neon and antique lanterns. Furyo thinks it looks like a feudal period whore house or gambling hall as ivy is covering much of the front and it’s surrounded on all sides by a cemetery. Someone friendly screams “Dead Men Tell No Tales!” and disappears into the adjacent cemetery. Furyo gets a strange vibe like this is not entirely an earthly establishment. Walking in he sees massive juniper beams and lanterns with moth eaten paper lighting up a dark hallway. Skulls and shrunken heads fill the walls with demonic masks and a Yokai theme.
Coming to a bend, he sees the riotous energy of a swinging bar. It likely started as a restaurant but clearly drinking is the main thing. Geisha’s and gangsters are the only patrons. The biker crowd is at a table in the back singing some punk rock song in bad English. Everyone here is spending money but the tables are covered with money like shrine offerings. The girls look odd like their makeup has a bluish pigment, eyes sunken back and skeletal hands count payments. The walls are covered with pictures of otherworldly images, ghosts, funerals polaroids of accident scenes. Furyo sits down and orders beers and sake. Swimming in booze until he feels woozy. Excusing him self to the bathroom he bumps into a man he thinks he has seen. One of the 憑依された男性カルト Possessed Men Cult from his induction ceremony. The man is bloated and has bursting veins covering his skin. His eyes are pink and skin blue like he has the plague.
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Pushing into a stall, Furyo can hear groaning and growling like a wild animal is in the next stall. The stench of the place is awful as toilet paper and soggy pissed on clothing fills the latrine. He doesn’t even want to sit down in here, he would rather shit in the street. Pissing and reading graffiti he tries to walk straight to the sink but slides in some body fluids and slippery debris. Steading him self, he hears an awful voice ask for a light in perfect English. Looking around he is alone except for the snarling wolf in stall 3. The voice calls again. “Hey shithead! You ignoring me?” Furyo thinks the window must be open but as he looks in the mirror something beside him is moving. Looking at the old fashioned lantern next to the sink, he sees a face and eyes smiling. It’s a horrid face with glowing eyes and a face withered from centuries of suffering. “Got a light ace?”
His spirit feels like it’s sinking. Somebody must have drugged his drinks. But sure enough this old paper lantern has a ghostly face that is talking. “Hey slick, got any matches? I dropped mine.” The ghost lantern has a cigarette in its mouth and is struggling to breathe, coughing up non existent lungs. Furyo looks to the floor and sees a book of matches and strikes one up to light a smoke for the damned thing. The ghost lantern groans with pleasure, taking a long drag and looking halfway drunk. “I needed that.” Furyo is puzzled, “How did you become a lantern and get stuck in a bathroom?” The ghost says “I was created in the Edo period when this was a sea front tavern. When I turned 100 I became conscious. Its called 付喪神 Tsukumogami. Happens to tools, houses, castles and even streets. Around older part of the country even the mountains, streams and trees are living beings. I am おばけ提灯 Chōchin'obake.”
Furyo knows he on is something but plays along. He takes a low bow. “Pleased to meet you Chōchin'obake-san. I’m Furyo Matsuno, bastard son of the Yakuza and most hated American in the city limits of Tokyo and the Kanto region.” This makes the ghost lantern howl with laughter that causes him to choke and drop his cigarette. He asks, “Take me out of here will ya?” Furyo takes the lantern down from its hook. “Where do you want to go?” The lantern considers this and says. “Take me out front.” Furyo obliges. From the back stall, two red eyes peer over the top of the door as they exit the bathroom followed my a growl and kicked out open door. Most of the Bōsōzoku have left only a few merry drunks sway to songs as they doze off into sleep. The bar matron smiles and waves as Furyo walks out into the street. Furyo asks “How did you come to learn English?” Mr Ghost Lantern replies “I was once hanged in a private quarters of the Emperor’s family during the Meiji restoration, I learned several languages before being given away after a fire broke out. I have been slumming it here since the great earthquake of 1855. I move every time there is a great loss of life, either by the wind or hands of fate.”
The ghost lantern takes a deep breath and smiles. “Ah, it’s been decades since I have smelled the sea.” Furyo is puzzled all he can see is cemeteries and over grown buildings long over due for demolition. Falling down shacks, rusty car lots and pools of darkness where trees have broken though pavement, creating dense forrest among the broken up street. Furyo hangs the lantern and the ghost looks sad to see him leave. “Where are you going human?” Furyo explains his road trip and his quest to meet the 人食い巨人 Cannibal Giants to make peace. “Take me with you, I have been wanting to go on a road trip for centuries. Last time I went any where it was by horse cart some time during the Meiji era.” Furyo sees no reason to say no. Attaching the lantern to the back of his stolen motorcycle, they pull off into the night. A savage entity comes spilling into the street with black fur, evil eyes and inhuman hostility.