anyhow, pretend you aren’t bothered for me [solo job]

the festivity had begun without mita noticing. the sun was directly above, blazing down onto the country of clans, when mita realized that half the day had already gone by - that today’s current events had started while he was dozing like a lazy cat, forgetful of everything except for its immediate desires.

mita was wide awake now, turquoise eyes taking in his surroundings, watching the proceedings of stalls that promoted food, entertainment, and other experiences. who was mita to miss such delightful ways to squander his time? (he meant that with as much sincerity as his ironic-saturated world-view would allow.)

he slunk through the crowd, unnoticed with traditional clothing that covered his arms in hanging robes. his face, as grotesque as it was, half-hid beneath his mask enough to draw attention away from the lower half of his face. the only self-identifying object was on his waist: a vial with a particular, silver-flaked pattern. a memento of his family crest. not enough prestige to be gold, but the bumps were familiar was what counted.

(it was’t exactly that he was trying to hide his face. all things considered, he drew attention to it with the metal he painstakingly touched up his face with every day. they weren’t even necessary. he just liked them.)

he wandered a bit more before settling on a performing stand. well - less stand, more a marked plot with string and a sign advertising a solo kabuki performance. the flowers were a lovely touch, but the absence of anything else save for a wooden divider was more than boring. however, a co-worker of his - saka - saya something kami? he does not remember their name, but they recommended the kabuki performance.

what he knew of kabuki, it was strange that it was so empty. a curious murmur flittered to him from his right. he tilted his head curiously, eavesdropping with little else to interest.

“what happened to last year’s set up? i don’t remember it being this sparse?”

“it definitely wasn’t. i think i saw some of the furnishings get moved backstage.”

mita stared at the divider with a disconcerted look. that sounded like the performance was potentially cancelled. he let out a barely-held sigh of disappointment. he lingered for a few moments longer with the last bit of hope that someone would walk out soon.

coincidentally, a man in palid makeup with decorative, red strokes rushes out with his hair half-styled. it looked like it had been unraveled a bit. the man burst out fruitful apologies. apparently, the performance map tore and they were looking for a replacement.