Title: The Loli and the Thugs
Summary: Fumiko’s looking to buy some cloth in Inaba when she meets one of the local “thugs” and his “fanclub”.
Who: Fumiko Kohaku, Kazuo Yuudai, Jirou Hotaka (NPC), Naoki Tezuka (NPC)
Location: Inaba - Central Commercial District
Years ago, this was a bustling center of commerce and communal activity, a bright spot in a small and happy town, with each store telling stories spanning generations of the highs and lows of Inaba. Many of these stories are now at an end, as family-owned stores have been closing down left and right since the Junes department store opened close by.
The long street where these stores reside still has a couple shops that are fighting to the bitter end. Daidara Metalworks and the Shiroku grocery store both stand strong before seemingly inevitable disaster, with Chinese Diner Aiya, Marukyu Tofu, and the Souzai Daigaku beef skewer stand continuing to attract hungry stomachs. Tatsumi Textiles largely survives on patronage from the Amagi Inn, and sometimes it seems only one young man’s obsessive reading hobby is actually keeping Yomenaido Bookstore from falling apart. Konishi Liquors up at the northern end may be the next to go, following failing business and family tragedy. A small gas station does service for the few automobiles to come by here, more often servicing the buses that swing by the stop at the southern end.
The outlook is grim, the street populated largely by bitter elderly folks and teenage bullies looking for an easy mark. Even the local, once proud Tatsuhime Shrine is falling apart, already said to be taken over by wild animals. The whole district faces a losing battle against Junes for commerce, but this nostalgic district held dearly by previous generations will go down fighting.
It’s late afternoon, the chilly early November sky overcast but not snowing (or raining) yet. School let out several hours ago, and the bus is trundling its way towards the bus stop in the Inaba commercial district.
Fumiko sits on the bus, her parasol leaning against her leg to keep it out of the way of the other passengers. She tugs at her gloves, adjusting them a little as she waits for her stop.
The bus makes a stop, one that isn’t Fumiko’s, to pick up a few more passengers. The bus driver seems pleasant enough as he greets the boarding passengers as they pay their fare. Though he seems to freeze slightly as the next group of passengers get on. Sound is heard before the passengers are seen. “Hey, I forgot my wallet!” This is a sharp and slightly high male’s voice.
A sigh, and then another male voice, this one also high, but smoother, “Really? Again? Why do you do that every time we go somewhere?”
The first voice speaks again, “I can’t help it if I’m short on cash!”
A third voice speaks, this one low and smooth. “...Forget it. I got enough.”
And then the sound of footsteps on the bus as the three males board. First a scrawny young man with messy brown hair and thick glasses (who pays his own fare). Then a rather average-sized punkish-looking one bounces onto the bus. And behind them, a larger, darker-skinned fellow with black-haired young man.
Whoever these three are, the driver does not look happy to have them board.
However, the larger of the three pays the requisite fare for himself and the other fellow. “Thanks, I appreciate it!” the punk replies.
“You better,” the larger fellow replies, levelling a gaze at the punk. “I’m not a bank.” Fare thusly paid, the three of them find seats. And the seats around them suddenly seem somewhat empty....
Fumiko looks up from her gloves as Kazuo and his crew board the bus, raising her eyebrows at the bus driver’s reaction to them climbing aboard. She’s seated near Kazuo and doesn’t look like she’s about to move for him and his fan club—unlike the rest of the passengers. She tilts her head to one side, studying Kazuo before asking him after a moment, “So why doesn’t the bus driver look comfortable having you on the bus? He looks like he expects you to hold us up at knife-point or something.”
Fumi sounds like she doesn’t consider this to be likely—or, perhaps, thinks she can take Kazuo and his crew if they try it. Which is an interesting stance for a loli—especially one dressed in candy cane colours—to take.
While her interest is piqued by his Resonance, his interest might be drawn further by her Resonance if he can sense it; the scent of bitter medicine, underlaid by the smell of something off—as if something has decayed and been concealed somewhere. The sense of moonlight and the sound of frog-song accompanies these scents.
It is not her words that first attract Kazuo’s attention. Of course, neither is it her looks, either. Though the same cannot be said of the punkish-looking one that is traveling with him. He seems to zero in on her on the bus, and grins when she doesn’t seem about to move away from them.
Sitting near her, the thin punk offers her his best roguish smile and begins, “Hey there, beautiful.” He’s trying to be smooth, he really is. But he’s just far too hyper to really pull it off, and seems to practically be bouncing in his seat. Though it might still be considered ‘cute’, if failing miserably can be called ‘cute’.
Kazuo is not particularly adept at sensing Resonance in the first place. And he also has less input from his ‘sense’ and his hearing. He can inseed ‘sense’ the cold glint of moonlight, however vaguely, and he doesn’t hear anything at all. However his sense of smell seems particularly adept. And as he nears her, his nostrils flare ever so slightly. He sits in the seat across from her, giving her space but staying close enough to be spoken to. The nerdy-looking one sits on Kazuo’s left. “...Jirou. Give her some space.”
Immediately, the punk backs off, though he pouts. “Aw, man...” Sigh. Though he stays near her, he does give her some breathing room anyway. “Sorry about that,” he offers sheepishly to Fumiko. Luckily the glasses-wearing one doesn’t bother her. Fact, he seems flustered just being around her.
Kazuo speaks up then, in answer to her question. “He probably does,” Kazuo notes, meaning the bus driver. “Or something along those lines. We’re...not well-liked around here.” He casts a glance around, indicating the suddenly emptied seats, perhaps as further proof.
Jirou gets a quiet look of surprise; apparently she didn’t expect to get hit on. Or maybe she just didn’t expect to get hit on by him. His attempt at smooth and roguish doesn’t really work, though; she looks away, tugging at her gloves again before glancing out the window to see if they’re approaching her stop yet.
As Kazuo warns Jirou off, Fumiko relaxes a little; the flustered reaction of the glasses-wearing one doesn’t seem to bother her. “I can understand the feeling. I get it sometimes myself, from...certain quarters.” What those quarters are, she doesn’t specify. And it’s not like she has a lapel pin saying ‘I’m NWO, Ask Me How!’ or anything like that.
She offers Jirou a small smile, “It’s okay.” Her attention returns to Kazuo, “Well, I know why I’m not liked—but you seem like nice enough young men. Why aren’t you liked?” One might wonder about the quality of young men she hangs around with, if Kazuo and his gang seem nice.
Kazuo sends a glance to Jirou, who seems to be behaving for the most part. Though he is checking her out, he’s not doing so in a way that would be uncomfortable for her. And whatever secrets the young woman has are her own to keep, since Kazuo doesn’t seem particularly eager to find out a whole lot about her himself. In fact, he’s content to let her ride in peace after he answers her question. Then she speaks again, and Kazuo actually looks at her in surprise, blinking a couple times.
However, he does answer her question. “Nnn...” It’s a thoughtful sound, as if he’s thinking of how best to answer it. He pauses, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. “Inaba’s known to have some trouble with gangs and thugs occasionally,” he replies. “We’re often lumped as cut from the same cloth.”
Jirou nods. “Unfortunately, yeah. But hey! We’re nice! We don’t beat people up unless we have to.” He grins broadly, and Kazuo sends him a glance that makes the grin fade to something less smug-looking.
“Ah. Well...I can understand that, too. I guess people think the same about me and my family, in some ways,” Fumiko confides. She glances at Jirou at his assertion, blinking and then covering her smile and trying to smother her giggles. “Well, that’s good, I guess? How often do you have to?”
She doesn’t seem to mind Jirou checking her out, as long as he keeps it to just looks. She keeps fussing with her gloves, though, glancing at the windows to see if they’ve reached her stop yet.
Instead of Jirou answering, Kazuo ventures, “...Not as often as he’d have you think.” One gets the feeling that he spoke to prevent Jirou from saying something else that would cast them in too bad a light. However, Kazuo finds himself with a question. “...Why would people think you’re a thug? You don’t look like one.” No bandying about of words, either; he’s fairly direct, though he’s polite about it. Fumiko’s stop is approaching, and it looks like Kazuo and his friends aren’t planning to get off the bus at the same place.
A soft giggle at Kazuo’s reply and then Fumiko hums softly at his question. “Oh...they disagree with some of the things my family does. Some of the people they associate with. So some rather nasty words get thrown around, sometimes.” A quiet shrug, “And no, I don’t look like one, do I?” A cheerful smile, “But...it wouldn’t do to attract attention if I were. Not that kind, anyways.”
A glance out the window, “My stop’s coming up; I’ve got some shopping I need to do.” A pause and she cocks her head to one side, studying Kazuo and his friends. “Would you like to come with me? I’m Kohaku Fumiko, by the way—what are your names?”
“Understandable,” Kazuo replies with a nod. “Attracting attention is something I try to avoid too. Especially from police.” It tends to come back on his father. This, however, he does not say. Shopping is mentioned and...Kazuo raises an eyebrow. He’s not a big shopper. But just as he’s drawn in a breath to refuse, Jirou hops up, over to Kazuo, and whispers something in his ear. Whatever he says must have changed Kazuo’s mind, because he nods. “Hn. You have a point....”
Names? Jirou grins and offers, “Hotaka Jirou!”
Kazuo has to lightly elbow the glasses-wearing one to get him to respond. When he does, he squeaks a little. “Oh! Um...T-Tezuka Naoki,” he stammers.
The larger of the three boys tilts his head up in a backwards type of nod. “Yuudai Kazuo,” he offers. He stands. “And sure. I’m sure the driver probably wants us off anyway...and we might be able to help you out some.”
Plus, there’s that odd sense of something drawing him to Fumiko, that he can’t quite understand, that he needs to sort out in his head....
A blink as Jirou whispers something to Kazuo, but Fumiko doesn’t ask what the exchange was. That’d be rude!
“Well, Yuudai-san, Hotaka-san, Tezuka-san, it’s nice to meet you!” She seems to mean it, too. As the bus comes to a halt at her stop, she gets to her feet, gathering her bag and her parasol as she stands.
“If you could help me out, that’d be nice. But you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”
Fumiko shares the sense of ‘something’ drawing her attention to Kazuo—but she knows exactly what it is. It’s the sense of a Persona user’s Resonance.
“Might as well, if we’re going with you,” Jirou—perhaps surprisingly—offers as they make to follow her off the bus. Though his seeming politeness might be somewhat mitigated by his next statement. “Kazuo-kun’s pretty strong, so he can carry a lot!” Answers one question anyway; sounds like he intends on Kazuo carrying most of her stuff! Kazuo raises an eyebrow at Jirou. But surprisingly, doesn’t say anything about it other than a “Hn” of agreement. Encouraged, Jirou notes, “See?”
Naoki seems to be a little more bold now, and notes as an aside to Jirou. “Um...do you really think you should be volunteering someone else for work and not yourself, too?” he inquires in his small voice.
Kazuo speaks up, “It’s fine this time...I was going to offer anyway. But Tezuka is right.” Smirk. and as he speaks the next, his voice has a teasing note to it. “But since I know you feel horrible about it...you can carry his share.”
“...Aw, man....” Jirou whines.
To Fumiko again, Kazuo notes, “Sorry about that...the three of us carry on like this all the time. I understand it can be off-putting.”
A soft giggle before Fumiko replies, “Oh, don’t worry about it—it’s…actually, my family sounds a lot like this.” She steps off of the bus, “I won’t be getting anything too heavy, I promise—I just need to pick up enough cloth for an outfit.”
So, not just shopping but shopping that’s probably going to be boring for a group of boys. Unless any of them are particularly interested in cloth and clothing, anyways. In which case, they might have a lot in common with Kanji.
“It shouldn’t take long, I promise—I already checked to see if they’ve got the material I’m looking for. And it’s not something that they’re likely to have sold out of.”
Kazuo smirks to her mention of her family sounding like this too. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not...none of us are related,” he replies, a bit of a good-natured teasing note in his voice.
Jirou takes that moment to pounce Naoki, winding an arm around the smaller boy’s shoulders, and pulling him in for a noogie. Much to said smaller boy’s distress, if the flailing and ‘Hey! Quit it, Jirou!’ are any indication. “Ha! So what!” he declares, finally releasing the smaller boy, who adjusts his glasses, looking miffed. “We might as well be, all the time we spend together.”
Naoki pipes up, grumbling, “And with how much you ‘borrow’ my homework....” It’s interrupted by another pouncenoogie Jirou, this one just a little less gentle than the first was. But not enough to hurt the smaller boy.
Shopping in general tends to be boring for boys, unless it’s for video games, manga, or food. Whatever his opinions on her particular shopping quest today, Kazuo offers a nod, ignoring the mini-war going on next to him. “That’s all right,” he offers. “I don’t mind helping out, I was just teasing these two.” Mainly Jirou, since he seems to invite it more often.
He does have a question to ask, though. “Are you a seamstress?” he inquires. “Or are you making the outfit for a project?” He seems interested, but not to the point of ‘oh wow, you can sew, that’s so cool!’
“It—it’s for a project,” Fumiko admits, a touch hesitantly. Why hesitant? What kind of project is she working on?
The mini-war doesn’t seem to bother Fumi—either it’s another similarity to her family or she’s just not bothered by boys fighting nearby. “None of my family’s really related either. Not by blood. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t family. We’re closer to each other than most of us are to our biological families.” But who doesn’t have daddy issues, really? On that note, Fumiko leads the way to Tatsumi Textiles.
Kazuo notes the hesitancy, though he makes no outward signs that he’s noticed. “I see,” he returns, offering a small, polite smile. “Good luck with it.” And with that said, he doesn’t pursue the matter any further.
The mini-war behind them eventually settles down, with Jirou growing bored of messing up Naoki’s hair, and Naoki looking none the worse for wear.
“Hn...well, being an only child, I guess it was natural for me to find other siblings to get attached to,” Kazuo ventures. He does feel a bit of a need to be a little more forthcoming with her than he would normally be. He himself doesn’t realize this, though...and she might not realize that he’s being more open with her than he normally is.
Kazuo has probably been by Tatsumi Textiles before, but never really gone in there. He’s not a tailor, and doesn’t make or mend his own clothes. However, he doesn’t seem reluctant to go in. But what a curious quartet they’ll make going in there. Almost like the beginnings of a bad American joke—two punks, a nerd and a loli walk into a cloth shop....
Fumiko nods, smiling back in return, “I’m hoping it’ll turn out well.” She’s still hesitant on the subject—Kazuo might pick up a spike of anxiety, in her resonance, although there’s no outward sign of it beyond the hesitancy.
She smiles lightly, “Well, that does make sense—I know I’m probably more attached to my onii-sama and oji-sama, and the rest of my brothers, than I would admit to or be aware of if they were blood relatives that I’d grown up with.”
She seems undeterred by the curiousness of their group, walking into the shop and heading to talk with the shopkeeper—and Kazuo would probably recognize Kanji’s mother, even if Fumiko has never really met the woman before. “Hi, I called earlier about the white silk? Do you have enough for a formal kimono?”
Now, what kind of project requires a white silk kimono?
Whether he does sense her anxiety or not, Kazuo doesn’t make any outward signs of it. He seems pleased enough with her company, even as he tries to puzzle out why he’s feeling so oddly. He’s still listening to her, though, and sort of just...enjoying that weird undertone that seems to be between them.
When he enters the store, he offers a polite ‘Konnichiwa’ and a nod to the lady shopkeeper. He seems nice enough. However, when she asks for white silk to make a formal kimono, he raises an eyebrow. Didn’t white have something to do with...death? Odd. But still....
Jirou has attracted his attention, giving him something else to think about. He’s messing with some a brightly-colored bolt of cloth. “Hotaka. Don’t touch anything.” His hands are probably dirty. Or even perhaps a little sweaty. Still, it isn’t polite to touch anything in a shop if one doesn’t intend to buy it.
For his part, Kazuo is remaining patient and not staring too much at either the shop or at Fumiko. And thinking. Why would she want to make such a garment...? Would it be wise to ask...? Perhaps later, after they’ve left. But not here.
The shopkeeper also seems a bit thrown by the request. But a sale is a sale, no matter how creepy or morbid. And a kimono requires a lot of silk. Considering Inaba’s current circumstances, such a large sale can’t be turned down.
It doesn’t take long for the sale to be processed; the silk is measured and cut, and Fumiko pulls out a credit card to pay for the purchase. The cloth is wrapped and packaged, and Fumiko thanks the shopkeeper before taking her purchase and nodding to Kazuo, “That’s all I needed.”
Kazuo keeps himself occupied while the sale is being made, mostly by keeping Jirou out of trouble. Naoki’s smart enough not to mess with anything and get himself in trouble. Which is a good thing, because Jirou’s about as hyper as a five-year-old with ADHD on a sugar high.
As Fumiko finishes with her sale and informs Kazuo she’s finished, he nods. “Ah, all right. Are you heading back to the bus?” he inquires, releasing Jirou and gently shoving him at the door. The three of them will exit with Fumiko, walk her to the bus, if she’s going that way.
Though Kazuo knows better than to offer to walk her home. He’s only just met her, doesn’t know where she lives, and isn’t a well-thought of guy. However, when she departs the bus on her way back to...wherever she came from, he’ll be pensive and thoughtful. Who was she? And why did he feel so odd around her...?
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