Mitsui Ryou has a collection of worn, gilt-edged, leather- and cloth-bound books that appear, despite their potentially occult appearance, to all be fiction, mostly historical fantasy about the adventures of diviners and samurai hundreds of years ago. He seems to have a particular fascination with Abe no Seimei. (There's even a couple of manga series, tucked on a bottom shelf where they won't clash too badly with his classier books.) He has a small altar in his bedroom, laid out on a side table with a pristine silk cloth embroidered with floral and leaf designs on which sit a well-cared-for bonsai tree, a porcelain cup filled with water and an incense burner with a few sticks of incense burned almost all the way down. His black robe is folded in a lower drawer, next to two other embroidered silk cloths; one has a motif of Mount Fuji erupting, with flames and ash, and another has the symbols for fortune, from "very good" to "very bad," embroidered up and down each edge.
Shimoda Tsuki appears to be an enthusiastic amateur horticulturist. He's filled his small apartment with plants: succulents, wide-leaved vines, and tropical flowers almost hide the walls and furniture. His personal effects are sparse. A slightly dusty suit hangs in the closet, alongside a larger collection of plain denim or leather jackets and casual collared shirts, and a recently cleaned black, hooded robe. He has a calendar hanging on the wall -- the plain variety with a single picture and tear-off months -- with his work schedule scribbled in on it. Last year's calendar is still in the desk trash, which is about half full and doesn't seem to have been emptied in several months; going through the trash will reveal monthly schedules going back to last October, along with vacations written in and the occasional mysterious note.
Oota Saburo lives in a modest apartment with his wife and two children, a five-year-old daughter and two-year-old son. The apartment is filled with children's toys, a pet horned beetle enclosure, kindergarten assignments carefully tacked up onto the walls along with framed candid pictures of the family, and a clear effort (if a losing effort) to keep things under control. His wife is a cheerful, round-faced woman a few years older than he is, who works nights at a bento factory; he's a sales representative for an import company, and is often away on business. It seems he's away at the moment. There's very little suspicious material to be found, although the city calendar tacked on the kitchen wall does list his business trips over the past several months, many of which are within the country but some of which have been overseas, to Australia and even as far away as the United Kingdom.
Imai Takeru lives in a small house in the Tokyo suburbs. It is well-kept, with a pristine flagstone-paved yard that contains a few ornamental potted plants but no garden. Upon approaching the home, the two will discover that there is an oppressive atmosphere around it that makes it increasingly difficult to get close. Pushing through the oppressive atmosphere will cause shaking, nausea and dizziness, all growing worse until either the person approaching retreats or reaches the front gate.
The gate has two matching stars engraved on the doorposts, at eye level for someone about 175cm tall. It is impossible for a being of the Far Shore to walk between them, and attempts to teleport inside the house or fly over the house will mysteriously result in the god appearing or being forced to the ground just outside the wall (and subject to the worst effects of the nausea and dizziness.) The wall is a little over two meters tall, and is topped with razor wire that raises it another 20cm.
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Shimoda Tsuki appears to be an enthusiastic amateur horticulturist. He's filled his small apartment with plants: succulents, wide-leaved vines, and tropical flowers almost hide the walls and furniture. His personal effects are sparse. A slightly dusty suit hangs in the closet, alongside a larger collection of plain denim or leather jackets and casual collared shirts, and a recently cleaned black, hooded robe. He has a calendar hanging on the wall -- the plain variety with a single picture and tear-off months -- with his work schedule scribbled in on it. Last year's calendar is still in the desk trash, which is about half full and doesn't seem to have been emptied in several months; going through the trash will reveal monthly schedules going back to last October, along with vacations written in and the occasional mysterious note.
Oota Saburo lives in a modest apartment with his wife and two children, a five-year-old daughter and two-year-old son. The apartment is filled with children's toys, a pet horned beetle enclosure, kindergarten assignments carefully tacked up onto the walls along with framed candid pictures of the family, and a clear effort (if a losing effort) to keep things under control. His wife is a cheerful, round-faced woman a few years older than he is, who works nights at a bento factory; he's a sales representative for an import company, and is often away on business. It seems he's away at the moment. There's very little suspicious material to be found, although the city calendar tacked on the kitchen wall does list his business trips over the past several months, many of which are within the country but some of which have been overseas, to Australia and even as far away as the United Kingdom.
Imai Takeru lives in a small house in the Tokyo suburbs. It is well-kept, with a pristine flagstone-paved yard that contains a few ornamental potted plants but no garden. Upon approaching the home, the two will discover that there is an oppressive atmosphere around it that makes it increasingly difficult to get close. Pushing through the oppressive atmosphere will cause shaking, nausea and dizziness, all growing worse until either the person approaching retreats or reaches the front gate.
The gate has two matching stars engraved on the doorposts, at eye level for someone about 175cm tall. It is impossible for a being of the Far Shore to walk between them, and attempts to teleport inside the house or fly over the house will mysteriously result in the god appearing or being forced to the ground just outside the wall (and subject to the worst effects of the nausea and dizziness.) The wall is a little over two meters tall, and is topped with razor wire that raises it another 20cm.
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Let us know if you would like us to elaborate on any of these descriptions, or if you have any questions!