Post by Fusae Umezono on Mar 30, 2009 23:25:37 GMT -5
(Fusae & Nephi)
If there was anything, anything , that could ruin a Sunday spent in front of a sizzling grill in June, it had to be the woman in front of her.
No, not just this woman. The camera crew entourage was really what bugged her.
"--Umezono-san, I've heard that you only started working here recently, but how would you say business is doing, going into the summer? Larger chains surely must have some impact, not to mention the heat." The station reporter smiled, making sure to keep her microphone pointed almost threateningly at Fusae's face. The young woman did her best not to recoil from the sheer... the sheer gung-ho that emanated from the team, and rigidly stood ground behind the grill.
"It's, uh. S'going. I mean, we have a lotta regular customers, but, yeah, it's... it's hit a slump." There. She managed a bit of an awkward smile that probably looked more like a grimace, and told herself that intimidating the reporter away was only going to get her chewed out by her cousin, and less money. The reporter carried on with that creepily cheery smile of hers.
"Pardon, but would that slump have anything to do with the current murders?"
...Oh. Oh hell. No. Dammit, was this what that woman had come here for all along? There were plenty of other shops and restaurants feeling the crunch, why did they have to pick out her?
"...No comment," Fusae forced out, through a clenched jaw. "I think this interview's done," she added, a bit more reasonably. The reporter didn't look in the least daunted.
Augh, shit. Of all the times she needed a customer, certainly there had to be one somewhere now. She let her dark eyes scan the shopping district, hoping to spot anyone in the blazing heat, and promising herself to toss some money in the offertory box at the shrine if the gods delivered.
---
This had to be utter shit. Everything. /UTTER SHIT!/
Nephi grumped along the shopping district, holding the last few coins to his name. Surely Hiroki wasn't joking when he told the younger male to buy some steak skewers. Why would he even care?! That was bullshit in the first place!
His shoulder hurt and he was pretty sure that he wasn't at all good looking for any sort of social interaction. That was, until he spotted the television crew surrounding a woman at-- a place where they sold steak. BINGO!
Casually, he strode up to the counter, eyeing the other customers standing around the various outlets. After giving a 'spawn of hades' expression towards the news gentlemen, Nephi grumbled up an order for a steak skewer, slamming the change upon the counter.
Incase he wasn't understood the first time, Nephi furrowed his brows, offering a weary commentary for the cameras.
"Death is welcome, yeah? Why not go elsewhere or I'll shove those pieces of shit up your asses! Stupid-ass shits, t'ch! Go around doing absolutely nothing but talking about the past. I have to say, it's been exciting since the murders."
---
Alright, she couldn't laugh. Really. Couldn't allow herself to so much as crack a smirk. It was like everything she had wanted to say (save perhaps the excitement about the murders), but couldn't because she was technically supposed to be, you know, a responsible adult and everything. Amazing. Maybe she'd do more than scrape together some leftover yen rescued from the under the truck seats, this time.
"Sorry," Fusae smiled, hopefully looking far more apologetic than she felt, as she drizzled a little bit of water on the grill in order to give it a quick cleaning, where it fizzed and burned up in a burst steam. "But I better serve this guy, you know? Paying customers and all..."
The reporter bristled, but refused to let the young man's comments shake her professionalism. Hell, she even pulled out a business card. "If you have any information for me, please, just call this number," she smiled, then ushered her camera crew away to another shop.
Fusae quirked an eyebrow at the neatly typed name on the card, then tossed it in the trashbin behind the counter.
"Thanks for the rescue. So, what'cha want?"
This kid looked like a piece of work, though. Maybe she would have been better off telling the woman to just leave.
---
Nephi snorted at the reporter's comments, their reactions, and best of all- their way of leaving. His eyes flitted from the professonal card to the direction of which the female threw it. It sure as hell made him crack a smile. Actually, it was more of a smirk, but what does he care?
"Rescue? I just came to get a damn steak skewer. That's all I've heard for the past hour or so, so I'll be damned if I don't get one and get bitched out or somethin'."
He reached back, rubbing a hand along his bronzed neck, the tips of his digits rubbing along the collar he adorned. I doubt the lazy ass would actually get mad- or maybe he would. Who the hell knows. Neither did Nephi wanted to risk finding out.
"Can ya hurry? Y'know hungry people can be a bitch sometimes. It's fuckin' retarded."
---
Awww, now wasn't he charming. It was almost nostalgic listening to him, like back when she would hang out with the girls in the old backalleys...
Except being on the receiving end, and having to be moderately polite for the sake of good service? If she wasn't on shift, this kid would get her best nasty grin and quite possibly a smack to the back of the head (and only a smack because he reminded her too much of her own friends).
"Alright, alright." She tossed the pre-skewered steak tips on the grill, drizzling sauce over them. She spent a minute carefully attending to the meat, grinning to herself at the kid's bad attitude. "You'd only be bitched at more if you don't give them enough time to cook and they turn out like crap, you know. Take it easy."
She flipped a loose steaktip on the grill, cooking it through just enough before stabbing it with a toothpick and holding it out for the kid. "Here. It tastes better when you make them wait a bit."
---
He eyed the female for a few seconds, surveying her expression. The smiles, smirks- whatever they were! It was annoying, and only made him think that hey. . . she must be making fun of him. Leaning, he crossed his arms upon the counter, eying the meat for a moment, then her. Just what in the hell was she thinking in the first place?
"Neh, I doubt it. Meat is meat, but if you want to take your time, then I'll tell him jus' to come after ya, and not me." Nephi rolled his green eyes, spotting a few patrons at the next store. Thoughtfully, he hummed to himself. "I guess. I have no where to go for the moment, anyway--"
His speech had been cut off by the female's offer, eying the meat suspiciously before grasping the end of the toothpick. Is it safe? He questioned himself, opening his mouth to nip upon one of the steak tip's corners. He wasn't much of a steak expert, but he knew that it tasted like shit!
"G'eh?! The hell, woman? What in the fuck does he taste in these?!" His tongue lulled out of his mouth whilst outlined eyes narrowed at the girl-- she had tricked him.
"Bah, I don't care! Just give 'em to me!"
---
Fusae shrugged, although the way her eyes narrowed belied the way she had seemed to brush it off. "Hey, I don't eat it either. But what did you expect from here?" she jerked her head at the... glorious accommodations: carnival-style stand, milk-crate seats, upended crate table, cramped sidewalk and all. "We're not a five-star restaurant you know." (The price should have been indicator enough.)
She carefully loaded the skewers into the labeled waxpaper baggie, and then into a larger brown paper bag, talking as she did so. "If you think you can cook these things better, though, go on ahead." Fusae slid the bag onto the stainless steel counter atop the glass partition that kept prying fingers away from the grill and splashed water on the grill, quickly wiping a damp towel over the metal surface to clean it.
"500 yen," She snipped back, snapping the towel out and hanging it on its' hook.
---
"Yeah, yeah. I've heard it all my life. Really." Nephi waved a hand before placing it upon the shop's counter, near the wad of loose yen. Quickly, almost as nimble in comparison, he jumped up to snag the bag, spreading a few of the yen near- and even off of the counter's corner.
"Eh, I'll get it." He motioned for her not to make a fuss, bending down to pick up the change. Instead of placing it upon the counter, he immediately shoved the remainder into his pocket. Rainy day change, yes! Which, in total, left the female with nearly three hundred yen. Not enough to cover the cost of the food. The skewers meant for the lazy ass Devil, himself.
Thus, he bolted down the street; food in hand, cutting a sharp corner to snag short cuts here and there. All the while, he cackled, victory as clear as day in his mind.
---
... Oh that nasty little fucker. She didn't miss that move - she'd done it herself plenty of times, back in Osaka. Of course, she'd been better at it, but that came with practice.
Besides, if he was going to try and scam her out of money, he should have pulled such a one-eighty in personality after practically bitching for the last five minutes. Her body moved before her mind registered it, and she was sprinting her way out of the stand's side door in a flash, but not before grabbing a pair of metal tongs just in case .... well, in case you ever needed to use metal tongs on a dine-and-dash.
Stupid little twit. You didn't laugh, because then they knew which direction to follow you. Especially someone with longer legs.
That, and you didn't escape Fusae Umezono. She could charge her way through the thickest crowds in Osaka, she had fought her way to the top among the other gangs, she had scared a good portion of the male gang-brats not to mess with her. She had been beaten down by her own crew, her family, in order to leave for this crap ass little town. No high-schooler with a ugly, half-assed, bleached little 'fro was going to fuck with her.
She charged on, silent except for her own breathing and the beating of her boots on the pavement... and there he was. She didn't bother yelling at him -- that would only get his attention. Instead, she reared her arm back, the tongs glinting in the harsh summer sun, took careful aim at the brat's knees and ankles, and whipped the cooking instrument forward.
It was easier to kick them when they were down.
---
He had thought that he held the meat as a prize for his /smooth/ trick, but that was hardly the case. He could hear the subtle thumping of boots echoing throughout the many alley ways; both his own and another's. But he wasn't aware of just how close she was to him. Just before he made safe haven between two barrels infront of a corridor, he felt something rather solid hit the back of his knee.
The pain was sharp, startling, and unwelcome. He felt the instrument get tangled within his boots and jeans, causing him to trip and roll into the barrels instead. Naphi landed upon his shoulder blades, the lower portion of his spine resting against one of the tipped over containers. His brows furrowed as he hissed out a unsatisfactory noise, reaching out an arm to grab those damn steak skewers.
Then he wondered if Hiroki was really worth these damn things.
"This is gettin' to be fuckin' pathetic."
---
"Well no shit," Fusae slowed down from a hurried jog to a purposeful swagger, hands on her hips and looming over him, one boot resting atop a barrel that was alarmingly close to his head. She clucked her tongue, but didn't break eye contact.
There was no one around. She could forgive herself if she slipped partway back into her old habits for a few minutes. Probably. It wasn't actual violence that solved problems like this, it was the attitude: the confidence in your step that told them you were above and beyond them. And, yeah, maybe she was, but you couldn't blame his effort.
"Look, man, you didn' know who you tried to scam, and I don't wanna fight-- " Yes she did. She missed the feeling of getting a good solid punch in, especially on cocky little brats like this kid. " -- So if you'll just pay for your food in full, and really it's not much, you get to go and I forget this ever happened. Hell, I might not tell a single soul from your little school that you got caught doing a dine-and-dash from me, if I get an apology."
She knew how jerkoffs at his age thought. It was one thing to get caught by a stall owner, but by a woman stall owner? How many delinquent bastards had gone to insane extents in order to avoid admitting it was a chick who beat them down? Too many.
---
It wasn't the female's boot on the barrel that scared him. Nor was it her threatening expression or words that she had spoken. Nephi even attempted to keep a vice-grip stare at the face that loomed over his own, but found it difficult once he started laughing.
"H-ha ha, what? Look, how about I don't pay the rest, you can take it out of your /allowance/ and I get outta here, huh?" He snerked, feeling the weight of his collar pressing upon his throat. He didn't care if the woman hit him, or stomped him, for he knew something would come at a later date. It was about revenge, but something less personal and more insane.
Slowly, he started to raise upon his elbows, the bends of his knees aching from the contact of the woman's weapon. He had to give her props-- that was one hell of an aim.
"If you want to tell my school, then make sure you say 'Nephi'. I hate my name, otherwise."
---
She tilted her head almost questioningly, but didn't change her expression, didn't dare move.
This... this was different. Either this kid was talented at feigning total indifference, he was stupid, or he was actually, truly, unfazed. She hadn't seen that last one in, well, in a long time. And in the middle of nowhere, too -- who knew what did that to him in this tiny little town.
"You're just a walkin' heap of trouble, aren't you? You prob'ly know it too." She leaned down a little closer, watching him struggle to his elbows. The older woman grabbed the metal tongs, tapping the end of them against her shoulder in a weird little rattling rhythm. "Man, you're too young for that. And out here? Seriously?"
She'd take her time. If this kid was so impatient to get some steak because he didn't want to make whoever had sent him wait too long (and really, who would go out of their way to eat that? Not many.), this person was obviously one of the few who could keep a handle on... on Nephi.
"Look, think about it this way. Is the person who wanted that crap-ass steak going to send you my way again for more? Probably, if he doesn't die of food poisoning. So let's just make it easy for both of us. It's 300 yen. Really. You could go fish it out of the offeratory box if you wanted to, for all I care, so long as I don't have to count my register short for the day, you know? And if I don't get that measly 300 yen, then you aren't getting anywhere near my stand, are you? And they're going to be pissed, aren't they?"
It was simple and pure logic, and she would use every bit of leverage that she could. Even if she didn't exactly know that leverage personally.
---
"So? It isn't like I have'ta go around changing myself for people. Hell, if you're gonna survive here, might as well make the best of it." He was right, on his terms. Though if not honestly, politically correct.
Once he found a good grasp upon the pavement, he hopped upon his heels, missing the woman's head with his own by mere millimeters. Slowly, he leaned, rubbing at the back of his calf muscles to ease the throbbing.
"If he really wanted the shitty steak, then I'm going to give him the shitty steak. I can care less, so as long as he gets off of his lazy ass once in a while." It was more like Nephi bribing Hiroki to do things, otherwise. Though know one actually /knew/ of these circumstances. "If getting 300 damn yen was so freakin' hard, then you can go take it from the crazy shrine fox. Since uh, you're already away from your precious stand anyway. What's a few more meters or somethin' goin' to hurt?"
With that, he grabbed the edge of the wrinkled bag, hoisting it within an arm.
"I don't want to go near your stand, anyway. It rinks of dead animal and ugly bitches."
---
Man, this kid was a piece of work. She straightened up as he leapt to his feet, kicking the barrel her foot had rested on out of their way.
"You're right. Next time I have a hard time surviving in a town in the middle of nowhere that practically rates zip on the crime rate scale, I'll remember to steal steak from a cheapass stand, run away while cacklin' an' take a nosedive into a stack of barrels thanks to a pair of tongs. In fact, hell, you should go on a pilgrimage and spread your message, Fro-chan. People'll be all over you." She took a step back, still tapping the tongs against her shoulder.
"You'll even be able to send your own errand boys out to get crappy steak for you. You're straight on the road to th' good life, there."
God, this kid was entertaining enough to ignore the money. Why hadn't there been someone like him at her level back home? It might have snapped her out of it and the old gang years ago. So young, so twisted; god, the kid had to have been dropped a couple times, or born with something stuck up his ass. Maybe both.
"Ugly bitches are the ones who always come back, kiddo. They hit hardest, and where it hurts, 'cause that's all they got. You keep an eye out, y'hear?"
---
"Hey, do what'cha gotta do."
It was all that he could say at this point, totally uncaring about how the female tried to insult him-- or rather, what came off as attempted insults. Lazily he looked over a shoulder, then the other shoulder, and finally upon the female's tongs.
"Man, those things hurt like hell. You have good aim, but you should be somewhere else besides a shitty ass meat stand."
Nephi sneered, turning to walk away. For a moment he paused, flicking his hand around in the air as if to say 'whatever floats your boat, missy.'
"Only when they know where it hurts, and only when they can touch me. You'd probably know that more than anyone, huh? After all, seems like you've been out on the street, too. Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all, but you put it into a gang-sense and all that shit. But really, I don't care. I have'ta get these back to him or he wont wake up for a week. Lazy ass piece of shit!"
---
"Heh."
She couldn't help the little half-breath of a laugh, a bit surprised at herself that for some reason the kid wasn't digging himself as deep under her skin as he should have been. Maybe it was because he was almost a little bit of home, her real home, wrapped up under a good thick layer of maladjustment and lack of basic social skills, but still talking tough despite seemingly at the beck and call of another. He almost didn't seem to belong in the town, himself.
Shaking her head in slight disbelief (and suddenly feeling old ; that had been her, only a few months ago, hadn't it? But now here she was, with a "real" job and everything...), she watched him go, arms crossed. Once the kid had rounded the corner, she turned to go, glancing down as she did.
She nudged the barrel that Nephi had landed on, motivated by the dulled glint of a few coins that had probably fallen out of the kid's pocket when he was sent flying.
Ooh.
Well, maybe she wouldn't have to count up too short today after all.
If there was anything, anything , that could ruin a Sunday spent in front of a sizzling grill in June, it had to be the woman in front of her.
No, not just this woman. The camera crew entourage was really what bugged her.
"--Umezono-san, I've heard that you only started working here recently, but how would you say business is doing, going into the summer? Larger chains surely must have some impact, not to mention the heat." The station reporter smiled, making sure to keep her microphone pointed almost threateningly at Fusae's face. The young woman did her best not to recoil from the sheer... the sheer gung-ho that emanated from the team, and rigidly stood ground behind the grill.
"It's, uh. S'going. I mean, we have a lotta regular customers, but, yeah, it's... it's hit a slump." There. She managed a bit of an awkward smile that probably looked more like a grimace, and told herself that intimidating the reporter away was only going to get her chewed out by her cousin, and less money. The reporter carried on with that creepily cheery smile of hers.
"Pardon, but would that slump have anything to do with the current murders?"
...Oh. Oh hell. No. Dammit, was this what that woman had come here for all along? There were plenty of other shops and restaurants feeling the crunch, why did they have to pick out her?
"...No comment," Fusae forced out, through a clenched jaw. "I think this interview's done," she added, a bit more reasonably. The reporter didn't look in the least daunted.
Augh, shit. Of all the times she needed a customer, certainly there had to be one somewhere now. She let her dark eyes scan the shopping district, hoping to spot anyone in the blazing heat, and promising herself to toss some money in the offertory box at the shrine if the gods delivered.
---
This had to be utter shit. Everything. /UTTER SHIT!/
Nephi grumped along the shopping district, holding the last few coins to his name. Surely Hiroki wasn't joking when he told the younger male to buy some steak skewers. Why would he even care?! That was bullshit in the first place!
His shoulder hurt and he was pretty sure that he wasn't at all good looking for any sort of social interaction. That was, until he spotted the television crew surrounding a woman at-- a place where they sold steak. BINGO!
Casually, he strode up to the counter, eyeing the other customers standing around the various outlets. After giving a 'spawn of hades' expression towards the news gentlemen, Nephi grumbled up an order for a steak skewer, slamming the change upon the counter.
Incase he wasn't understood the first time, Nephi furrowed his brows, offering a weary commentary for the cameras.
"Death is welcome, yeah? Why not go elsewhere or I'll shove those pieces of shit up your asses! Stupid-ass shits, t'ch! Go around doing absolutely nothing but talking about the past. I have to say, it's been exciting since the murders."
---
Alright, she couldn't laugh. Really. Couldn't allow herself to so much as crack a smirk. It was like everything she had wanted to say (save perhaps the excitement about the murders), but couldn't because she was technically supposed to be, you know, a responsible adult and everything. Amazing. Maybe she'd do more than scrape together some leftover yen rescued from the under the truck seats, this time.
"Sorry," Fusae smiled, hopefully looking far more apologetic than she felt, as she drizzled a little bit of water on the grill in order to give it a quick cleaning, where it fizzed and burned up in a burst steam. "But I better serve this guy, you know? Paying customers and all..."
The reporter bristled, but refused to let the young man's comments shake her professionalism. Hell, she even pulled out a business card. "If you have any information for me, please, just call this number," she smiled, then ushered her camera crew away to another shop.
Fusae quirked an eyebrow at the neatly typed name on the card, then tossed it in the trashbin behind the counter.
"Thanks for the rescue. So, what'cha want?"
This kid looked like a piece of work, though. Maybe she would have been better off telling the woman to just leave.
---
Nephi snorted at the reporter's comments, their reactions, and best of all- their way of leaving. His eyes flitted from the professonal card to the direction of which the female threw it. It sure as hell made him crack a smile. Actually, it was more of a smirk, but what does he care?
"Rescue? I just came to get a damn steak skewer. That's all I've heard for the past hour or so, so I'll be damned if I don't get one and get bitched out or somethin'."
He reached back, rubbing a hand along his bronzed neck, the tips of his digits rubbing along the collar he adorned. I doubt the lazy ass would actually get mad- or maybe he would. Who the hell knows. Neither did Nephi wanted to risk finding out.
"Can ya hurry? Y'know hungry people can be a bitch sometimes. It's fuckin' retarded."
---
Awww, now wasn't he charming. It was almost nostalgic listening to him, like back when she would hang out with the girls in the old backalleys...
Except being on the receiving end, and having to be moderately polite for the sake of good service? If she wasn't on shift, this kid would get her best nasty grin and quite possibly a smack to the back of the head (and only a smack because he reminded her too much of her own friends).
"Alright, alright." She tossed the pre-skewered steak tips on the grill, drizzling sauce over them. She spent a minute carefully attending to the meat, grinning to herself at the kid's bad attitude. "You'd only be bitched at more if you don't give them enough time to cook and they turn out like crap, you know. Take it easy."
She flipped a loose steaktip on the grill, cooking it through just enough before stabbing it with a toothpick and holding it out for the kid. "Here. It tastes better when you make them wait a bit."
---
He eyed the female for a few seconds, surveying her expression. The smiles, smirks- whatever they were! It was annoying, and only made him think that hey. . . she must be making fun of him. Leaning, he crossed his arms upon the counter, eying the meat for a moment, then her. Just what in the hell was she thinking in the first place?
"Neh, I doubt it. Meat is meat, but if you want to take your time, then I'll tell him jus' to come after ya, and not me." Nephi rolled his green eyes, spotting a few patrons at the next store. Thoughtfully, he hummed to himself. "I guess. I have no where to go for the moment, anyway--"
His speech had been cut off by the female's offer, eying the meat suspiciously before grasping the end of the toothpick. Is it safe? He questioned himself, opening his mouth to nip upon one of the steak tip's corners. He wasn't much of a steak expert, but he knew that it tasted like shit!
"G'eh?! The hell, woman? What in the fuck does he taste in these?!" His tongue lulled out of his mouth whilst outlined eyes narrowed at the girl-- she had tricked him.
"Bah, I don't care! Just give 'em to me!"
---
Fusae shrugged, although the way her eyes narrowed belied the way she had seemed to brush it off. "Hey, I don't eat it either. But what did you expect from here?" she jerked her head at the... glorious accommodations: carnival-style stand, milk-crate seats, upended crate table, cramped sidewalk and all. "We're not a five-star restaurant you know." (The price should have been indicator enough.)
She carefully loaded the skewers into the labeled waxpaper baggie, and then into a larger brown paper bag, talking as she did so. "If you think you can cook these things better, though, go on ahead." Fusae slid the bag onto the stainless steel counter atop the glass partition that kept prying fingers away from the grill and splashed water on the grill, quickly wiping a damp towel over the metal surface to clean it.
"500 yen," She snipped back, snapping the towel out and hanging it on its' hook.
---
"Yeah, yeah. I've heard it all my life. Really." Nephi waved a hand before placing it upon the shop's counter, near the wad of loose yen. Quickly, almost as nimble in comparison, he jumped up to snag the bag, spreading a few of the yen near- and even off of the counter's corner.
"Eh, I'll get it." He motioned for her not to make a fuss, bending down to pick up the change. Instead of placing it upon the counter, he immediately shoved the remainder into his pocket. Rainy day change, yes! Which, in total, left the female with nearly three hundred yen. Not enough to cover the cost of the food. The skewers meant for the lazy ass Devil, himself.
Thus, he bolted down the street; food in hand, cutting a sharp corner to snag short cuts here and there. All the while, he cackled, victory as clear as day in his mind.
---
... Oh that nasty little fucker. She didn't miss that move - she'd done it herself plenty of times, back in Osaka. Of course, she'd been better at it, but that came with practice.
Besides, if he was going to try and scam her out of money, he should have pulled such a one-eighty in personality after practically bitching for the last five minutes. Her body moved before her mind registered it, and she was sprinting her way out of the stand's side door in a flash, but not before grabbing a pair of metal tongs just in case .... well, in case you ever needed to use metal tongs on a dine-and-dash.
Stupid little twit. You didn't laugh, because then they knew which direction to follow you. Especially someone with longer legs.
That, and you didn't escape Fusae Umezono. She could charge her way through the thickest crowds in Osaka, she had fought her way to the top among the other gangs, she had scared a good portion of the male gang-brats not to mess with her. She had been beaten down by her own crew, her family, in order to leave for this crap ass little town. No high-schooler with a ugly, half-assed, bleached little 'fro was going to fuck with her.
She charged on, silent except for her own breathing and the beating of her boots on the pavement... and there he was. She didn't bother yelling at him -- that would only get his attention. Instead, she reared her arm back, the tongs glinting in the harsh summer sun, took careful aim at the brat's knees and ankles, and whipped the cooking instrument forward.
It was easier to kick them when they were down.
---
He had thought that he held the meat as a prize for his /smooth/ trick, but that was hardly the case. He could hear the subtle thumping of boots echoing throughout the many alley ways; both his own and another's. But he wasn't aware of just how close she was to him. Just before he made safe haven between two barrels infront of a corridor, he felt something rather solid hit the back of his knee.
The pain was sharp, startling, and unwelcome. He felt the instrument get tangled within his boots and jeans, causing him to trip and roll into the barrels instead. Naphi landed upon his shoulder blades, the lower portion of his spine resting against one of the tipped over containers. His brows furrowed as he hissed out a unsatisfactory noise, reaching out an arm to grab those damn steak skewers.
Then he wondered if Hiroki was really worth these damn things.
"This is gettin' to be fuckin' pathetic."
---
"Well no shit," Fusae slowed down from a hurried jog to a purposeful swagger, hands on her hips and looming over him, one boot resting atop a barrel that was alarmingly close to his head. She clucked her tongue, but didn't break eye contact.
There was no one around. She could forgive herself if she slipped partway back into her old habits for a few minutes. Probably. It wasn't actual violence that solved problems like this, it was the attitude: the confidence in your step that told them you were above and beyond them. And, yeah, maybe she was, but you couldn't blame his effort.
"Look, man, you didn' know who you tried to scam, and I don't wanna fight-- " Yes she did. She missed the feeling of getting a good solid punch in, especially on cocky little brats like this kid. " -- So if you'll just pay for your food in full, and really it's not much, you get to go and I forget this ever happened. Hell, I might not tell a single soul from your little school that you got caught doing a dine-and-dash from me, if I get an apology."
She knew how jerkoffs at his age thought. It was one thing to get caught by a stall owner, but by a woman stall owner? How many delinquent bastards had gone to insane extents in order to avoid admitting it was a chick who beat them down? Too many.
---
It wasn't the female's boot on the barrel that scared him. Nor was it her threatening expression or words that she had spoken. Nephi even attempted to keep a vice-grip stare at the face that loomed over his own, but found it difficult once he started laughing.
"H-ha ha, what? Look, how about I don't pay the rest, you can take it out of your /allowance/ and I get outta here, huh?" He snerked, feeling the weight of his collar pressing upon his throat. He didn't care if the woman hit him, or stomped him, for he knew something would come at a later date. It was about revenge, but something less personal and more insane.
Slowly, he started to raise upon his elbows, the bends of his knees aching from the contact of the woman's weapon. He had to give her props-- that was one hell of an aim.
"If you want to tell my school, then make sure you say 'Nephi'. I hate my name, otherwise."
---
She tilted her head almost questioningly, but didn't change her expression, didn't dare move.
This... this was different. Either this kid was talented at feigning total indifference, he was stupid, or he was actually, truly, unfazed. She hadn't seen that last one in, well, in a long time. And in the middle of nowhere, too -- who knew what did that to him in this tiny little town.
"You're just a walkin' heap of trouble, aren't you? You prob'ly know it too." She leaned down a little closer, watching him struggle to his elbows. The older woman grabbed the metal tongs, tapping the end of them against her shoulder in a weird little rattling rhythm. "Man, you're too young for that. And out here? Seriously?"
She'd take her time. If this kid was so impatient to get some steak because he didn't want to make whoever had sent him wait too long (and really, who would go out of their way to eat that? Not many.), this person was obviously one of the few who could keep a handle on... on Nephi.
"Look, think about it this way. Is the person who wanted that crap-ass steak going to send you my way again for more? Probably, if he doesn't die of food poisoning. So let's just make it easy for both of us. It's 300 yen. Really. You could go fish it out of the offeratory box if you wanted to, for all I care, so long as I don't have to count my register short for the day, you know? And if I don't get that measly 300 yen, then you aren't getting anywhere near my stand, are you? And they're going to be pissed, aren't they?"
It was simple and pure logic, and she would use every bit of leverage that she could. Even if she didn't exactly know that leverage personally.
---
"So? It isn't like I have'ta go around changing myself for people. Hell, if you're gonna survive here, might as well make the best of it." He was right, on his terms. Though if not honestly, politically correct.
Once he found a good grasp upon the pavement, he hopped upon his heels, missing the woman's head with his own by mere millimeters. Slowly, he leaned, rubbing at the back of his calf muscles to ease the throbbing.
"If he really wanted the shitty steak, then I'm going to give him the shitty steak. I can care less, so as long as he gets off of his lazy ass once in a while." It was more like Nephi bribing Hiroki to do things, otherwise. Though know one actually /knew/ of these circumstances. "If getting 300 damn yen was so freakin' hard, then you can go take it from the crazy shrine fox. Since uh, you're already away from your precious stand anyway. What's a few more meters or somethin' goin' to hurt?"
With that, he grabbed the edge of the wrinkled bag, hoisting it within an arm.
"I don't want to go near your stand, anyway. It rinks of dead animal and ugly bitches."
---
Man, this kid was a piece of work. She straightened up as he leapt to his feet, kicking the barrel her foot had rested on out of their way.
"You're right. Next time I have a hard time surviving in a town in the middle of nowhere that practically rates zip on the crime rate scale, I'll remember to steal steak from a cheapass stand, run away while cacklin' an' take a nosedive into a stack of barrels thanks to a pair of tongs. In fact, hell, you should go on a pilgrimage and spread your message, Fro-chan. People'll be all over you." She took a step back, still tapping the tongs against her shoulder.
"You'll even be able to send your own errand boys out to get crappy steak for you. You're straight on the road to th' good life, there."
God, this kid was entertaining enough to ignore the money. Why hadn't there been someone like him at her level back home? It might have snapped her out of it and the old gang years ago. So young, so twisted; god, the kid had to have been dropped a couple times, or born with something stuck up his ass. Maybe both.
"Ugly bitches are the ones who always come back, kiddo. They hit hardest, and where it hurts, 'cause that's all they got. You keep an eye out, y'hear?"
---
"Hey, do what'cha gotta do."
It was all that he could say at this point, totally uncaring about how the female tried to insult him-- or rather, what came off as attempted insults. Lazily he looked over a shoulder, then the other shoulder, and finally upon the female's tongs.
"Man, those things hurt like hell. You have good aim, but you should be somewhere else besides a shitty ass meat stand."
Nephi sneered, turning to walk away. For a moment he paused, flicking his hand around in the air as if to say 'whatever floats your boat, missy.'
"Only when they know where it hurts, and only when they can touch me. You'd probably know that more than anyone, huh? After all, seems like you've been out on the street, too. Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all, but you put it into a gang-sense and all that shit. But really, I don't care. I have'ta get these back to him or he wont wake up for a week. Lazy ass piece of shit!"
---
"Heh."
She couldn't help the little half-breath of a laugh, a bit surprised at herself that for some reason the kid wasn't digging himself as deep under her skin as he should have been. Maybe it was because he was almost a little bit of home, her real home, wrapped up under a good thick layer of maladjustment and lack of basic social skills, but still talking tough despite seemingly at the beck and call of another. He almost didn't seem to belong in the town, himself.
Shaking her head in slight disbelief (and suddenly feeling old ; that had been her, only a few months ago, hadn't it? But now here she was, with a "real" job and everything...), she watched him go, arms crossed. Once the kid had rounded the corner, she turned to go, glancing down as she did.
She nudged the barrel that Nephi had landed on, motivated by the dulled glint of a few coins that had probably fallen out of the kid's pocket when he was sent flying.
Ooh.
Well, maybe she wouldn't have to count up too short today after all.