#irasshaimase

[forcebookish]

he's so CUTE

[a-basket-of-muses]

"Irasshaimase! Thank you for coming in. How can I help you today?" Hotaru came out from the back area and smiled. As she walked forward she whiped her hands on the apron around her waist in an attempt to dry her hands from the water. She had just been doing boutonnieres for a wedding.

"Did you need help finding something? What you see is not all I have. Kore igai ni mo takusan motte imasu."

[tinybro]

IT'S DONE

baby's first bookbinding/fanbinding attempt! irasshaimase (welcome) by shella has been super dear to my heart for like a solid decade and i've dreamed of doing a project like this for it for so long. thank you shella for writing it and for letting me do this, it was a lot of fun and i'm so proud of the final product!!

[call-me-copycat]

Escaping The Night (Part 4)

Welcome! - Introduction and Request rules (important if you want me to write for you, or if you want to know who I am)

▶ Characters: Shinso x Fem Reader + Father/Mentor Aizawa (platonic)

▶ Genre: Angst to Fluff

▶ Summary: Reader is now under Aizawa's care, and Y/N isn't too willing to surrender just yet, fighting back viscously(sarcasm) with angry glares and the silent treatment. Aizawa isn't too sure how he's going to manage this, but he does know one thing: he'll be damned if he doesn't at least try to make life better for you.

▶ Word Count: 5304 (one of my longer ones)

▶ Warnings:

- Pretty slow chapter if you're one for action, reader and Aizawa just go to the store then back to his apartment (sorry!)

- I once again use Japanese terms, but I'll explain it at the end

- Mic isn't told about the whole incident, so he asks Aizawa if he got married and had a kid when he sees Y/N. He is not married in this story.

- Reader has slight PTSD from The Incident (as Aizawa calls it)

- Sorry, Shinso isn't in this chapter either, I have no control when I write, I really didn't mean for it to take this long (sorry, again!)

➜ [Part 1]

➜ [Part 2]

➜ [Part 3]

➤ {This is Part 4}

➜ [Part 5]

➜ [Part 6]

➜ [Part 7]

➜ [Part 8]

➜ [Part 9] Coming Soon!

He'd make things better, something that he was sure of.

The room fell silent, or rather it was always that way, the inner monologue of each other's thoughts slowing down and the deception of talk wore off along side it.

Eraserhead patted his pockets, and upon feeling his keys once again, a small optimistic idea presented itself to the man.

"How about we go to the store?" He suggested.

"Right now?", You questioned, tired and not exactly in the mood for extra travel.

He grunted in approval, then spoke again, "but I'm no good at knowing which things you'd prefer over another, so I'll let you pick out whatever you believe you'll need" he explained.

You raised an eyebrow at how dodgy that sounded to you. The tired pro meant exactly what he said, simply wanting to take you to the store and let you pick out whatever fulfilled your wants and needs (with secret hopes of getting on your good side), but years of living on the streets hardened your way of thinking, learning early on not to trust everyone that came up to you right away. Trust took time, not bribes.

"Anything?"

"Anything. Money's no issue for me, just nothing stupid or over the top." He answered with assurance.

And with that, you found yourself in the local supermarket in the beginning of the night with the sleepy man, the workers greeting both of you enthusiastically "irasshaimase!"*1 with large smiles and gentle waves.

You looked around as you both stepped in, having forgotten what it was like to actually be in a nice supermarket instead of scavenging like an animal. The lights were a bright intrusion into your tired eyes, and there were colorful characters and signs that filled every aisle.

You felt a bit out of place among all the polite and clean customers, but you supposed you weren't alone as Eraserhead didn't look like the typical customer either. In an odd way- that you refused to acknowledge- it was a little comforting.

Well, you were here, so you decided that you'd at least make something of it and get supplies and other things that you'd need. If anything, you deserved a warm bath and meal from the hell that you were constantly put through, but that thought never crossed your mind and the guilt of being given something made you feel like you were being dishonorable.

Eraserhead grabbed a cart and - after putting a basket inside of it*2- quietly trailed behind you as you scanned the brightly lit aisles full of assorted goods all up and down as far as you could see.

You appreciated the moment, never really getting to spend a lot of time in stores before. Because of your limited experience you took in all the colors, bright lights, neat rows of packaging and hushed conversation that customers held in between each other. It was relaxing, and you wanted to spend all night in the store if you could.

If you were being honest with yourself, you did think that the little characters on the packages were sort of cute, though you never admitted that out loud. There was some show or something playing in the background as you could here someone speaking rapidly and with lots of energy. The cashier's check out machines beeped in rhythm, and you discovered a new symphony of life that day.

You wandered wherever your legs led you, and with your mind empty they had no restraint holding them back. Up and down the aisles, you observed every little object, from tofu to mugs, to the long Chinese leeks to the row that was entirely dedicated to many different types of noodles.

However, your inexperience was the reason why Eraserhead had to help you through some small problems that would happen every now and then. Pulling you back before a turning so you didn't run into another shopper, pushing the leaning shelf back when you reached too far for an item on the top shelf, sneaking some snacks in the cart that he noticed you eyeing earlier, and other things similar.

After awhile of scanning the seemingly infinite shelves, you looked towards the cart and realized that you had only really put in some cleaners, a few toiletries, and other minimal objects that were needed (along with some snacks you didn't remember putting in). Otherwise, the cart was mainly empty, you having been too busy taking everything in, along with being overwhelmed with options.

Upon noticing this Eraserhead tried to help you out a bit, the best he could at least. You glared at the man, not needing any pity or babying, but in the end fatigue forced you to give in and you both found a middle point.

You let yourself get measured by a chatty lady who wouldn't stop smiling so Eraserhead had your size when it came to getting clothes, and in turn you got to pick out whatever outfits you wanted. You didn't really develop a certain taste for clothes out on the streets, so you just picked whatever you thought looked nice (Eraserhead had you put back a leather jacket that you were looking at- it just reminded him too much of Mic and he didn't think he could handle that mentally.)

You both struggled to come up with a healthy list of groceries, you never having been grocery shopping (at least not in a long while), and the pro never having had a healthy diet, too used to settling on whatever basics he saw first like bread and rice.

You both somehow made it work because in the end you wound up with what was a good assortment of supplies that you thought seemed like a surplus. Though it just looked like a shopping cart full of foods, clothes and cleaners, you had gotten used to only getting an insignificant number of things, forcing yourself to work with what little you had.

As you both drove back to Eraserhead's place, you couldn't help but think that the man didn't mean anything initially cruel, and doubt in your rough introduction with him started to blossom as you wondered just what was going on in that head of him.

You tried to shake off those thoughts as you recalled the night you got taken into custody. Memory of the panic and fear that seeped into your mind the moment you realized where you were before getting tranqed was unshakable, gripping onto your mind with dark claws, entirely unwavering no matter what you did or how you attempted to rid yourself of it.

Though, now that time had passed from the... Incident (as Eraserhead called it anyway), you found that you couldn't summon the same amount of fury anymore, seeing that it burned out to a lower level of simple bitterness, rings of fire turning to sour edges and thoughts instead of violent acts. You fidgeted in place uncomfortably as you for once couldn't understand your own brain and why your way of thinking was starting to change. Perhaps because you were starting to see this man as more of a person rather than an opponent that you'd see all the time.

You made it back to the apartment complex, and you both grabbed a half of the bags that you had gotten and brought it inside. You weren't particularly giddy over basically successfully being bribed, but you knew that you weren't exactly the nicest nor easiest to work with that night, so you felt obliged to express some way of thanks.

Upon opening the door to bring in the bags, you saw another man already inside, standing in the middle of the living room while looking at a small pamphlet with a confused look on his face as he continuously tilted it while looking at pieces of wood and metal laying on the floor.

The man looked pretty normal to you, though you could tell a lot about his personality by the way he dressed. Long yellow hair was tied loosely into a bun, and glasses with bright orange rims framed his confused expression on his face. He wore regular jeans with a wine colored shirt that was covered by a dark jacket that was left open, which allowed you to notice the small bits of jewelry he wore- a metal gold chain with a blue beaded necklace. You admired that he at least matched the chain and bead necklace with similar bracelets on his wrist, and on the other wrist a shiny silver watch sat.

You figured Eraserhead already knew this man as he simply walked past him into the kitchen, you following apprehensively, eyes never leaving the stranger.

After all bags were put on the kitchen table, Eraserhead went over to the man in the living room, and you followed wanting to know what was going on.

The stranger had his back to you and Eraserhead, and you noticed that he didn't have that pamphlet anymore but now was trying to piece together two pieces of the wood that were once in the floor with the others.

"I thought you said you'd be done, and I quote, 'in a snap'. So, what's the problem?", Eraserhead questioned the man, his arms crossed while he watched him struggle with the wood.

The man answered with his back still turned, "I'm tryin', ok? It's a lot harder than it looks... been ages since I put together a bed. The movers put mine together when I first moved into my place, I'll admit that."

Eraserhead sighed, rubbing at his temple, not wanting to deal with any problems this late into the night.

"Look, I trusted you to put it together before we got back, because in case you didn't know, that bed is for company, and that company doesn't have anywhere to sleep now." Eraserhead answered back to the man. You looked over and noticed that he was staining his voice, as if he was trying to hold back from yelling.

"Company? What kind of company? I thought you were a loner, since when did you go out and make a friend? I thought that wasn't 'your thing'." The stranger playfully jabbed, causing Eraserhead to sigh once again and drag his hand down his face in exasperation.

Eraserhead turned to you before apologizing and explaining.

"Sorry about him, he's a close friend of mine, but he can be a bit airheaded at times. Wish he came with a warning label sometimes." Eraserhead muttered the last part a bit, but it was still loud enough for you to hear.

"Anyways, I called him over to fix you up a bed while we were out getting grocery, but it looks like I'll have to take matters into my own hands for now if you don't want to sleep on the floor "

When Eraserhead finished speaking, the stranger immediately jumped up, as if realizing something.

"Wait! They're here right now?!", He exclaimed, finally turning around. His eyes landed on you as soon as he turned, and he adjusted his glasses as if he didn't know if he was seeing something correctly.

"Umm.. am I seein' this right, Shota? That is a kid."

"I know she's a kid, that's the main reason why I had asked you to put together a bed. A bed... mind you, that isn't for adults... "

"But...- Like what's goin' on?! Did I miss something?! Since when did you have a kid?! Are you married?!" The stranger asked in bewilderment, not comprehending anything that was happening.

Eraserhead sighed the deepest sigh you heard that night, once again rubbing his temple in fatigue and annoyance.

"Look, I'm going to saying this simply. I'll explain everything tomorrow, but for now, I'm tired, you're tired, and she's tired. Everyone's tired. So let's just get this bed made so we can all go to sleep. Okay?"

And with that and a shrug of the man's shoulders (who you later learned was called Yamada, but he said you could call him Mic for short), everyone began to prepare for the night's rest that awaited them beyond the bed.

Speaking of beds, yours didn't get finished that night, only a few parts of the frame being built into place, to which you thought looked sort of like the skeleton of your bed, devoid of any outer materials and vulnerable to the outside world. You needed to stop thinking that way.

So for that night, you put on some of the new pajamas you were bought (hastily muttering out a 'thank you' to Eraserhead- because while you lived in the streets you never lost your manners, in fact you had a particular distaste for people who never used them), brushed your teeth which were in dire need of a cleaning, got cleaned up and off to the couch you went.

The skeleton bed frame was left on the floor of the living room, patiently waiting for tomorrow to come to gain its body. Eraserhead made sure to lock every window and door (making a bit of a scene, he just wanted you to know that he wasn't messing around), and then proceeded to thoroughly lecture you about even thinking about escaping.

Mic (as you learned to call him, but for the most part you just called him the 'loud blonde guy') bid you both a goodbye before heading off to his own apartment with promise of returning the next morning in order to construct the bed, properly this time.

You laid on the couch after Eraserhead went into his own room, and remained still as you stared at the now dark ceiling. It was quiet, something you were quite used to.

(For your assistance in visuals)

In the distance you could hear the soft sounds of the town beginning to awaken for the night, and through the curtains you could see lights on different buildings beginning to flicker on, one after another.

You were always fond of the night, preferring it to the day. You never knew why, maybe it was the beautiful glow of the neon lights, or the way the stars and the moon shined their light on the darker parts that were vacant of light of their own, or maybe it was just a more... peaceful time. You didn't know what it was exactly, but you did know that you loved it.

When you listened carefully you heard cars rushing by, the sounds of air whooshing as they sped up and away, you heard dogs barking every now and then, never knowing what it was at or why, sometimes people's voices as they walked near the building, although they were almost unheard because of how far above the ground you were.

Not only did you hear sounds from the outside, but there was also a small set of sounds that came from the inside as well.

The AC, gently letting out a stream of warm air, the humming of some device somewhere (possibly the fridge), the gentle shuffling that came every now and then from Eraserhead's room whenever he walked around. You were always an observant one, not really having a choice because it saved your life multiple times when you were on your own.

You laid there, eyes wide open and not the least bit tired anymore, enjoying the calm atmosphere of the sounds that played in the background. Because even though your life was upside down, life for everyone else still continued.

Suddenly remembering the bracelet, you brought your left arm up from where it was laying, and held it up and over your face. As you examined the metal (at least the best you could in the dark), you didn't really think it looked like much. Though you knew to stray from thinking that way, as most often the strongest enemies you ran into were the ones that were most overlooked or underestimated.

A thought, a flicker of a thought... What would happen if you tried to use your quirk? You knew most likely it wouldn't work, but nonetheless curiosity pushed you to try anyways. You held your hand and strained, trying your best to summon any energy left inside of you in order to be converted to power.

And nothing came. Odd, even though you knew that was most likely going to happen, the reality of it actually happening in front of you spurred a new type of fear in you. And for the first time in ages, you felt powerless. It was a horrible type of fear, one of vulnerability and having fallen prey to predator.

You breathed in and out, trying your best to calm yourself as you brought your arm down. Deciding that that was enough thinking, you laid on place and just let yourself enjoy the daily harmony of everyday life.

You heard a police siren wail in the distance, cringing to yourself a bit as the memories started to flicker a bit in your mind. A sudden voice startled you,

"Can't get it out of your head?"

You sat up, and next to the arm of the couch, just next to where your head previously laid was Eraserhead, holding that yellow sleeping bag that you had noticed in the car earlier.

You didn't say anything, just turning your back to him and looking out the window of the kitchen at an the lights.

You heard him sigh, along with some shuffling noises, and upon turning around you noticed that he was beginning to sit down next to the couch, his lower half being swallowed by the sleeping bag.

"What're you doing?" You asked, fatigue beginning to make its way to your system, but was kept from interfering with your voice, giving the slight illusion that you were wide awake.

Eraserhead didn't say anything for a second, sitting with his knees loosely near his chest, resting his arms over them in a casual manner. After the pause he answered,

"Can't leave you out here to sleep by yourself", and with that never further elaborated. You didn't have the energy to ask him anything further, so you let him be and you both sat in silence, both looking at the curtain covered window as if you could see right out of it.

"You know, I understand this is all new for you. I understand you'd want someone to talk to. I just want you to know that if you need something, anything, then don't be afraid to come ask me, ok?" Eraserhead suddenly spoke up, breaking the silence with his soft words.

You still didn't answer, but you clenched your jaw as you continued to stare at the window with a hardened glare on your face.

'Not tonight...'

"Y'know... I can't get it out of my head either..." Eraserhead spoke up once again, but this time it was quiet, almost a whisper and trailing off, so much so that it made you think that it wasn't meant for you to hear at first. He had some kind of emotion lacing his voice at that moment, but you couldn't pin down what it was exactly. All you knew was, it was different, different from the normal fatigued monotone that he normally presents the world with. It didn't make any sense to you, and trying to figure it out but coming to a dead end caused you to become frustrated with yourself.

You didn't bother trying anymore and quickly dropped back down to the couch, facing the back of the couch so you didn't have to be face-to-face with the man beside you.

As you laid there, fatigue slowly started to fill your mind. The soft blanket, plush pillow, and warm atmosphere basically made it a luxury compared to your old ways of sleeping. Slightly glad that you weren't laying on cold wood or concrete with a slightly too small blanket that would either leave your legs or arms cold, you allowed yourself to rest for once, although the tension never left your body. Always alert, you refused to let your guard down, because if one unpredicted event lead to this, then you were made more wary of future attacks.

As you began to fall into the abyss of your very consciousness, you were pelted with a sudden barrage of memories that crawled their way up from the pit you pushed them in.

Voices surrounded you once again, all bitterly jesting towards you and your defeat.

Like film rolling out of a roll, memory after memory presented itself to you, all fighting to dominate the top spot and clearest configuration.

The fight for the top grew, and in turn so did your anguish. Completely crowded, as if you were on a shinkansen*3 on rush hour, in Tokyo.

Memory after memory, each filled with its own unique personality and emotion, pushed and pulled on your mind, all clawing and competing for the claim over your mind.

Voices, faces, events.

Colors, sounds, feelings.

Too much. It was too much.

They suffocated you in their unrelenting torture, filling every single spot that existed within the realms of your being.

Random things broke off, creating an indescribable mess of color and sound hurling at speeds incomprehensible towards you without hesitation.

Strawberry milk.

The little bunny plush that had frayed edges.

The train speeding by.

Red scissors.

"Why do I want to forget something that was so important to me?"

Purple eyes... (Where?)

Calculator and it's clicking.

Witch hat.

So many objects, all out of the ordinary struggled to put themselves into the spotlight, without it they risked being forgotten. But they wanted life, even if it meant through you and your mind.

The flashes eventually grew inconceivable, no longer being able to read nor understand anything as they would flash by in such a sudden stroke that it seemed as if they were no longer individual, but rather all one morphed together.

The edges of your sleep began to fade, and you could feel the effects of your rest beginning to lift from your mind, getting further and further away, until, in a sudden move they were swiftly dissolved. Almost as if they never were there to begin with.

Your eyes darted open, and you blinked as you were met with unfamiliar surroundings. That is, until the truth of your reality hit you like a group of bricks dropped from 10 meters above.

You felt as if your mind was swashed with a bucket of cold water, and the bitterness returned and filled the empty spot that the agony of your dream once had before departing.

The dark room of the living room greeted you unenthusiastically, it's dull walls boring into your eyes. You heard light snoring and looked to the opposite end of the couch and spotted Eraserhead in his yellow sleeping bag, resting on the floor opposite of you, next to where your legs were.

For a second, you wondered if he realized that you were uncomfortable with the close proximity and acted accordingly. You pushed the thought away.

You stretched your arms out, and laid back down once again, too tired to do much of anything else. Sleep greeted you again, but possibly as an apology for before you were given a silent, blank rest that was devoid of any color or movement.

The next thing you knew, bright sunlight that was muted by the curtains covering the windows spilt into your eyes, causing slight tears to form and waking you up in the process. This time you remembered where you were. You didn't know if that helped with the pain or not.

You laid on your spot for who knows how long. Simply laying there, you pondered on your current position. Where were you going to be a month from now? Or a year? What about your friends? You weren't close, but you all did have a mutual understanding and formed many types of bonds with each other.

You sighed, everything that the world created and presented to you being too much for your mind to handle. The weight was unbearable, the pain agonizing, and the paranoia frightening.

So you did what you always did when you were overwhelmed.

Nothing.

You laid there, body too awake to go back to sleep, yet you lacked the energy to do anything else. Defeat once again bit at your mind, and as much as you wanted to deny it, you were stuck. So, what now?

You rested with your eyes closed, the large fluffy brown blanket swallowing your body whole, and the pillow gently supporting your head.

However, some sounds from the kitchen drew your attention towards it. Sounds like a pan hitting another and different things being shuffled and poured (although you had to strain to hear it because they were all very gentle and quiet) caused your curiosity to grow, but you never indulged it. The shallowness that had consumed you was stronger than your will to observe and fight, and so you stayed.

That is, until the door to the front opened and in walked that loud blonde man Eraserhead called Mic. As soon as the front door opened he was already loud. Walking loud, talking loud, laughing loud, heck even breathing loud for you.

You didn't bother, simply covering your head with the blanket and turning to face the back of the couch. You hated how much your life had changed. Just about 72 hours ago, you were doing your own thing, enjoying your own life.

You heard the two men silently conversing in the kitchen, and it just proved to agitate you further. Their lives were still basically the same, they still had the options of what they could do, so why should your way of living change in order to cater towards the man who took you in?

A light 'clink' on the coffee table text to you caught your attention once again, and this time since it was much closer you decided to investigate, peeping your head out of the blanket.

You were greeted by a bowl of rice with a single raw egg cracked on top (tamago gohan), a smaller bowl of natto, some pickled vegetables, a pair of chopsticks, and a bottle of tea from the Konbini, all laid out next to where you were sleeping.

(For your viewing pleasure ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Curious, you looked around and found that the two men were sitting at the dining table, still conversing lightly.

Fully sitting up, you garnered both of their attention (although it was inevitable), and then blond greeted you with a smile that made it seem as if he knew you his whole life.

"So! Look who's finally up, huh? Have a good sleep?"

He didn't pay any mind to the glare you gave him nor the silent response, still smiling that large dopey smile.

"I told you to leave her be, she's probably still a little tired. Anyways you still need to put that bed together like you promised", Eraserhead's scolding tired voice suddenly started after Mic's.

"Alright, alright. No need to keep breathin' down my neck about it." Mic answered, raising his hands in defeat as he got up from his place at the table to go finish putting together the bed (that you found out was moved to where your future room was).

"The food's for you by the way. I haven't seen you eat anything since you've arrived so don't try to pretend you're not hungry" Eraserhead pointed out with a bluntness in his tone, although compassion accompanied it as well.

You didn't say anything, opting to give another tired glare at the further tired man who sat ever so casually sipping his coffee.

You were given a few choices of clothes to pick out from the assortment that he got you the day before, and upon your refusal to collaborate he ended up picking out what you'd wear for the day.

You were sent to shower and dress for the day, which you did, but in all reluctance. The icy resentment that gripped your heart was at an all-time clash with the fiery rage that resided in your mind, both at a battle for what you would do and you didn't know if they were battling for you, or if they were battling against you.

After you left to go shower and change in the bathroom and with Mic in the bedroom nextdoor, Aizawa had the advantage of having the quiet space all to himself- albeit temporarily.

He sighed upon seeing your breakfast untouched, and grabbed the dishes to store them with hopes that you might eat it later. Truth be told, Aizawa wasn't the best cook, and he had to go to the store early that morning for some sensible groceries and then spend even more time trying to find a breakfast recipe online and work to actually put it together.

It was a lot more effort than he was used to, his solo routine normally just getting up, and maybe grabbing a cup of coffee. He didn't have the best diet or habits, he knew that, but he wasn't going to keep them any longer now that he had someone else's health to look after. Yours.

That day, he planned on taking you around the main areas of his life that he frequented, wanting to get you as comfortable and familiar with your new life as possible. He wanted to do a sensible approach, fearing that just throwing you into a new life and new routine would be difficult on your mental well being, and you didn't need anymore of that.

After you exited the bathroom, clean and clothed in a brand new attire, you immediately made contact with the always ever tired Eraserhead who was waiting patiently for you on the couch. You didn't expect so much social interaction so early, right after you woke up, so you just kind of halted your movements upon his sight.

Nevertheless, he still started his explanation anyways.

"So I understand that you're most likely not in the mood for going anywhere or doing anything today, and I completely understand that" he started.

You sighed, knowing that there was going to be a 'but...' and then they would start talking about everything you didn't want to do or wouldn't like.

"But there's a tight schedule I have to follow, along with the fact that it would most likely help you out greatly if I introduced you to some areas that you'll be running into frequently."

There it was. And really, a day after you got taken into custody? He wasn't going to give you a day to yourself or anything for you to gather your thoughts together or something?

"You don't have to worry about much, though. You'll be sticking to my side the whole time, and you won't be expected to do anything. This is just to help you get a little more familiar with different places and people so you aren't confused in the future." He explained, and looked at you expectantly for any glares or questions.

You ended up surprising him by not having anything snarky to say, simply remaining silent with a hardened glare on your face. Aizawa internally decided that he was going to work that glare off and get you to smile somehow.

And with that, he gathered his keys and you silently trailed after him out of the door. When he had his back turned you looked down at your wrist.

That quirk canceller-tracker bracelet was still there, easily ruining any chance of escape without any real effort.

You scratched at it a bit before following Eraserhead out to his car.

A/N: I'm sorry that the chapters have been sort of slow, I never intended it that way, but I'm currently working on trying to speed things up while having it still make sense and maintain its emotional train of thought. Also I want to work Shinso in soon as well (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

Notes:

*1 - Irasshaimase is the greeting that workers typically use to greet customers in Japan. Serving the customer the best they can is normally top priority.

*2 - Carts in Japan are different than those in other countries, you have a cart base and put a basket inside. Here's an image:

Neat!

*3 - Shinkansens are the bullet trains you've probably heard of that connect all around Japan. They typically get very crowded, and it's made even worse depending if it's rush hour or if you're in a heavily populated area (such as Tokyo). I love using images to make my point, so here you go:

(I can't breathe just looking at this image)

Well, I hope you enjoyed! I've been really busy lately, but I promise I'm working on this as much as I can! I really like the plot and look forward to writing it more! Thank you, and please have a lovely day!

This is ok for reblogs and other uses by the way as long as you don't claim it's yours (⁠^⁠^⁠)

[年2022/ 月12/ 日22]

[just-some-random-blogger]

I Wanna

Yakuza!Pedro Pascal x Reader + Baker!Oscar Isaac x Reader

Summary: You fell in love with the leather jacket wearing thug named Pedro, and even after finding out he was part of the yakuza, you married him against your family's will. What happens when your marriage comes crumbling down and his best friend, Oscar, comes picking up the pieces?

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: Yakuza/Baker AU ok? ok, CRACK FIC, anime parody (ie, cringe cliche anime scene descriptions, romanized japanese~, etc.), fem!reader, Wife!Reader, infidelity/cheating, hurt/comfort, mentions/depictions of violence, fluff, angst, did i say crack fic?, typos etc.

A/N: I know its says pedro and oscar, but its not really them ? HAHHA just dont take this too seriously 💀. It started with this tiktok and me thinkin it was a damn telenovela. then the pic of pedro in this moodboard made @sloanexx say 'yakuza pedrosan' and i was like 😀😀BESTIE THATS AN IDEA then this other tiktok happened and then it sewed everything in place. Cross posted on my ao3 Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @amis-love-bugs @top1bbgloak @sunfairyy @djarinsstuff @mooniesyubi @pedropascalgirly @mmmmandoz @multifandom-fangirl4

▶ Play ♪ 'I Wanna' by The All American Rejects

The bell chimes as the door opened. I pull my head off my hand and pause the funny cat compilation video I was watching. I straightened up where I was leaned on the front counter, standing from my stool. I put on a fake smile and greet, "irasshaimase~ Welcome to the Starlight Cafe!"

I close my eyes as I grin. Gosh, I hate my job.

I hear the customer walk over to me. When I open my eyes, I let out a gasp when I see his face. The wind blows. Cherry blossoms drift with the breeze. His leather jacket glimmers. His shades glint as he pushes them down slowly. He flips his short hair. It barely moves.

I let out an audible gasp. My eyes glitter, "so pretty."

He knits his brows, "nani?~"

"What?"

"What?"

"What-" I clear my throat as I am snapped out of that maladaptive montage. I chuckle softly, "what would you like to order?"

The man looks at me through his lowered glasses and then with a swoosh, removes his glasses. I gasp again, clutching my chest. I whisper under my breath, "sugoi~"

"Mmm," he hums, crossing his arms, titling his head, "what would you recommend, cutie pie?"

My background turns pink. Heart shaped sparkles appear in my eyes. I gasp, he just called me cutie pie? He thinks I'm cute?!

"A- I-" I suck in a breath and carefully offer, "a lot of our customers order the triple chocolate frappe. It has a choco base, choco syrup, and chocolate bits."

"Mmm," he hums again, "I didn't ask what the other customers order," he leans in toward me, our faces inches apart, "I asked for your recommendation."

The whole world turns black. My heartbeat is magnified. I feel my entire body burn, "I-"

The man leans on the counter, placing the shades in his hand on his head. He raises a brow, "well?"

I suck in a breath and mutter, "s-strawberry."

"Hmm? What was that, cutie pie?" A smirks plays on his lips.

"I like iced strawberry lattes," I retort.

He pulls back and leans on one leg. He chuckles, "kawaii~" then nods, raising two fingers, "2 iced strawberry lattes then."

I nod gingerly, punch in his order, "could I just get your name for the order?"

His name rolls off his tongue smoothly, "Pedro."

Ah... Pedro-san~

I tell him his total and take his payment. I hand him his recipt. The world moves in slow motion as he takes it from me. He says a quick thanks and walks off. His boots click across the empty cafe. He sits down on sofa chair next to the window and props his elbows on the back rest, crossing his legs as he looks out. Pink blossoms fall from the sakura tree outside. He smiles at the sight of it, "I've missed Tokyo."

I cannot stop looking at him as I make his order. With every step, every mix, every pour, every shake, I steal a glace of Pedro. I couldn't help myself. That was, until I saw him looking back at me.

I drop the jigger onto the counter with a loud thud. I freeze and look away from him. Shit.

Pedro's lips curve into a soft smile. He whispers under his breath, "baka~"

Stupid.

From then on, I focus only on finishing his order.

When I do, I place the two cups on the counter and call out, "2 iced strawberry lattes for Pedro."

Pedro turns to me. He stands from his spot and walks over. He smiles and takes the one latte, examining the perfectly placed strawberry slice on the cream, then pokes a straw through the plastic cover. He brings the straw to his lips and takes a sip. I watch him with anticipation, clenching my fists tightly.

He pulls the cup away and licks his lips.

I gulp heavily.

Pedro smirks, "refreshing."

I let out a soft sound of relief.

He then takes another straw then pokes it into the other cup. He pushes the cup across the counter, towards me, and mutters, "enjoy the treat, cutie pie."

My jaw drops as I look down at the counter. He- he... bought this for me?

Pedro takes another sip of his drink with a playful look on his face, "see you soon, strawberry."

With that, he turns around and walks away. I gasp when I see the print on his jacket. He was... a gangter? Yakuza?

I watched him as he stepped out of the cafe and crossed the street. My eyes widen when he looked over his shoulder and winked at me.

"That guy is nothing but trouble," I mutter to myself.

Little did I know that I would go on to understand how much trouble he really was, because one day, I would become his wife.

I remember the day he asked me, the day he promised it all to me.

I had since stopped working at the cafe and got an office job at a high paying firm. He had gotten into a fight with my overbearing co-worker who incesantly kept walking with me on my way home from work.

Pedro told me he wouldn't be able to pick me up that day even after I begged over and over to, because I didn't want ot be alone with my slimy co-worker. Little did I know that he planned it all. He knew my co-worker would persist and I wouldn't be able to get him to back off.

When we were a few blocks away from our office, walking the down the street I dreaded walking because it was dark, he came out of nowhere. Pedro popped up in front of us, scaring both me and my co-worker. The next thing that I knew, Pedro had the man by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

I was too shocked to react and I couldn't hear a word he was saying because Pedro whispered to him.

Once he released him, the man went running the other way. When Pedro turned to me, I gasped at the state of him. He had a busted lip, blood on his brow, a black eye, and the jacket he wore all the time was torn on the sleeve.

He whispers my name, eyes unable to meet mine.

I look at him as the orange streetlight gave me a vague view of his face, "wha-"

"I'm not a good man, in fact, I'm a horrible man," he mutters.

"Pedro-"

"Matte~" he mutters, "wait... just let me say this."

His face darkens as he hangs his head low. He rumages through his back pocket and pulls out something, "I don't think I can ever change," he slowly takes my hand. My cold hands burn in his hot one, "but I know for a fact I can never live..."

I gasp as I look down at my hand.

"- if I don't have you," he says, slipping a ring on my finger. Even through the darkness, I could see that the silver ring was reddened with blood.

"I did it for you," he says, making my eyes dart back up to his face. Pedro continues, "I killed my boss for you."

A shiver runs down my spine.

"I'm the boss now."

"Pedro-"

"Nothing will ever stand in our way," he steps forward, taking both my hands in his, "I would give you anything you want, everything you need," he bends to look up at me, "I would place Tokyo in the palm of your hand."

"Pedro..." I speak warily, "I- I don't need Tokyo..."

Pedro's face falls. He lets out a shaky breath. He straightens up and looks at our joined hands. He feels his eyes water. He feels his grip loosen.

I grip his hands before he lets go, "I just need you."

Pedro looks up. He looks at me. He feels his world light up. He feels the surroundings glow. He tightens his hold on me then gets down on one knee, "marry me."

I suck in a breath and nod, "I-"

I do.

I marry him.

I marry him against all the wishes of my family, effectively isolating me from all my relatives. I quit my job due to proximity issues, but in truth, I didn't need one anymore. Pedro lives up to his words, he gives me anything I want, everything I need; he placed Tokyo in the palm of my hands and yet-

It all fades.

Where once I beamed at his arrival, I now broke down in dread as I watched him crawl back to me.

I'm not in the mood for your lectures. I told you not to wait up. Strawberry, I had to take this job. Stop it. You wouldn't understand. I do this for you. I do this for you.

I DO THIS FOR YOU!

"I didn't ask you to do this for me," I sob against my knees as I pull my legs into me.

It was horrible. Pedro was working more than there were hours in the day. There was barely anything left of him when he came back. There was barely anything left of us.

"Oi, oi, oi~" a soft voice attempts to calm me.

I lift my puffy eyes as I look at the grey world before me. I watch as the curly haired man places a tray on the table and kneels down next to my chair, "what has you crying this time, puddle girl?"

Puddle girl. He called me this because I jumped in a puddle and splashed him the day we met.

He places a hand on my shoulder and shakes his head, "you don't have to worry about anything."

My voice breaks at his words. I sob, "Oscar-"

"Listen to me," he says, getting back on his feet, though he stays hunched to meet me at eye level, "Pedro is a dummy. He doesn't listen to me, he doesn't listen to you, but-" he raises a finger, "he listens to himself."

I sniffle at his words. I watch him as he straightens up.

"Show him what he's missing. Show him what he does this for, what he really does this for," Oscar says, placing his hands in his pockets, "did I ever tell you I made him buy me a bi-"

"Bike when you were still in school by convincing him it was him that broke yours," I continue his story for him through a stuffy voice.

Oscar chuckles. He presses the back of his hand on his lips as he does so, "ahhh," he sighs, "have I said it that much? Gomen~"

The sound of his voice makes the greyscale world seem brighter--happier. He chuckles again, running his hands through his hair. Sunshine cascades over his body, highlighting the curve of his toned chest through his dress shirt with three undone buttons. There is a sparkle that lingers on his bicep as he does this.

"Don't be too sad," Oscar says, pulling out a hanky from his pocket for me. He offers it with a smile and cocks his head to the side, "I made you a croissant and hot chocolate to cheer you up."

When I take his hanky and turn to the tray, I see the magic of his cooking waft in the hair. The smell of the food goes straight to my lungs and I realize in this moment just how hungry I was.

I shift in my spot, wiping my tears, reaching out for the pastry in front of me.

The bell chimes as the door is opened.

"Moshi moshi~" Oscar smiles, greeting the customers who walked into his bakeshop. I watch him as he attends to the old couple, leaning down to meet them eye level. My heart clenches when the old woman pinches his cheek.

The world suddenly has a golden haze.

I take Oscar's words to heart and put his plan into action.

I made it a point to do all the things I loved doing with Pedro and told him all about it. I made plans with him: I reserved dinner dates in our favorite places, bought tickets for movies we'd both like, wore the clothes I knew he liked me in, kissed him in spots that made him weak. I did it all, knowing he couldn't dare resist.

And yet he did.

At first, he would say he would try to make it to the date, then that he was too tired. Sometimes he'd cave and I'd have him right where I wanted him. Eventually, he began brushing me off.

He said he couldn't do those silly things right now.

"He said that?!" Oscar snapped, eyes wide in offence as I sob while recounting my latest encounter with his best friend. He fumes, "oh, I swear, I'm going to beat him up."

"Oscar, please."

"No, no-" he shakes his head rapidly, "I have to teach that rat a lesson."

"You're going to get yourself hurt."

"Well, you've been getting hurt," he counters.

I rub my eyes, no longer wanting to talk about this, as exhaustion begins to creep up on me.

The night air creeps up on me as a bunch of cars pass by the street of Oscar's closed bakeshop. For a moment, there was only the sound of tires on asphalt that filled the air.

"I've got it," Oscar mutters, "we'll make him jealous."

My face contorts in confusion and exhaustion, "nani?~"

"There's nothing that will make a man go crazy more than seeing his girl with someone else."

I huff and shake my head, "that's a horrible idea."

Oscar shakes his head too, grabbing my hand. I gasp when he does this. I look at him through my wet lashes. His brows furrowed. His eyes had stars in them. He mutters my name softly. A wind brushes through his hair as he did so, "trust me. I'm going to help you get your love back."

I look at him as he smiles.

"And anyway, it's just pretend," he reassures.

It really was.

Just pretend...

... at least at first.

Pedro grumbled as I giggled at the ice cream I smeared on his nose. He gives me a stink eye as I take a tissue and wipe the pink cream off him.

"It was an accident, darling," I say sweetly.

Pedro snorts and leans his forhead against mine, "of course it is," he pulls back as I giggle. A smirk plays on his lips as he licks his ice cream, "who would dare disrespect the big boss?"

I roll my eyes at his words. I nearly chew him up for it, but then I catch sight of Oscar and my attention is averted.

"Oscar-san!~" I call out.

Oscar raises a hand as he walks over to us.

"Pedro," Oscar says, patting him on the shoulder.

Pedro chuckles, nodding to him in regard, "Oscar."

Oscar looks between us, "any ice cream for me?"

"Sorry, we just got two," I retort.

Oscar pouts.

Pedro bites on his cone, "get your own."

Oscar turns to him, then back to me, "we should get one later."

I nod and smile, "okay."

Pedro furrows his brows, "later?" He tilts his head, "what's happening later?"

I mimic his expression, "don't you remember, Pedro? I told you I bought tickets for Barbie, but you said you couldn't watch it with me, so I invited Oscar to watch with me instead."

Pedro tenses. Oscar and I look at him as he slowly nods. "Ahh," Pedro says, "that's smart," he licks his ice cream, "better than not having anyone use the ticket."

Needless to say, I was quite dejected on our way to watch Barbie, as our plan didn't work at all.

"Don't worry about it, puddle girl," Oscar nudges me lightly with his elbow, "it's going to work."

"Work how?!" I blurt, "he thought it was a good idea!"

Oscar leans in and smiles, "in time."

"Pedro!" I call to him weeks later after that day, "do you like my outfit?"

Pedro, who was knee-deep in paper work, darts his eyes up and gazes at me through his glasses, barely shifting on his office chair. He looks me once over and nods, "yes, very pretty dear," he looks back to his desk, "are you going somewhere?"

"Hai~" I nod, stepping out of his office, "Oscar is going to pick me up in a few minutes."

Pedro pulls his head back and does a double take upon hearing this. He removes his glasses, "wait," he shakes his head, "Oscar?"

I nod again as I open the door, "hai~ He's taking me out dancing with my high school friends."

Pedro's brows furrows, "that's tonight? You said that was going to be next week."

"Pedro," I shake my head, "I told you that one week ago."

"But I-"

"Don't worry," I raise a hand, "Oscar agreed to come. I asked him this morning."

"This morning?" Pedro muttered, "that's such short notice."

I chuckle, "yeah. He needs to get a girlfriend." I step out of his office.

"Yamete!~"

I stop and turn back, finding Pedro was walking over to me. He places his hands on my shoulder and looks me up and down. "Beautiful," he whispers, placing a kiss on my lips. I am shocked my his affection, and my eyes widen as I gasp. When he pulls away, he brushes my cheek, "I love you."

I look at him, heart soaring at his words, "I love you."

A crack of thunder comes after a bolt of lighting rips through the dark grey clouds.

"I love you," Oscar says, body dripping in rain water.

I shake my head, eyes mimicking the sky, refusing to let him in. I close the small gap in the front door. He risks his fingers and toes by jamming them in to keep me from shutting him out.

"Onegaishimasu~" his voice breaks, "please don't make me go."

"Oscar," I whimper, eyes falling to the floor, unable to meet his gaze. I watch as water drips from his fingers, "everything about this is wrong."

"I know it is," he says and thunder cracks again, "I know it is."

I feel my cheeks burn because of my tears, "then leave. You know it's the right thing to do."

"But I don't want to leave-"

I sigh, "Oscar-"

"-and I know you don't either."

I don't respond to him.

There's another roll of thunder.

My skin pricks with goosebumps when he says my name the way he did, the way Pedro used to, the way Oscar always does.

"I love you," Oscar cries under his breath, "I love you so much that it hurts me to. It hurts because I love Pedro-" he growls, "-and hate him at the same time."

I finally look up to him, seeing just how distraught he was.

"I hate how he's done this to you," Oscar mutters, "I hate how he's pushed you aside and hurt you so much."

My tears travel down my neck.

"I hate how he has you but takes you for granted," he grits his teeth, "I hate that he has you. I hate that you met him first. I hate that you loved him first. I hate that I want you so bad. I hate-- I hate that things are the way they are."

And I know.

"You've made me into a puddle boy, puddle girl."

I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help myself. I opened the door for him, slowly letting it creak.

Oscar drops to his knees in front of me. He embraces my legs and mutters, "tell me to go away-"

I brush his dripping hair back.

"Tell me to leave you alone and get help for doing this to you."

"Oscar..."

He looks up at me, eyes red and tried.

I know.

I really do. I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help myself. I leaned down and kissed him.

That was it.

That was the end.

That was the day I chose to leave Pedro for Oscar.

I really did mean to. I meant to tell it to his face, to own up to the treachery, to confess my sins-- our sins, mine and Oscar's, his lover and his friend, two people that should never betray you. We meant to tell it to him upfront, but he made it impossible.

Between him not having time to see either of us, he didn't have the energy to even listen to anything other than his work.

So I left it all on his desk, a thank you, a sorry, an explanation, an I love you, and divorce papers.

The truth was, it took him 5 days to realize it was there, 5 days to realize it had already ended, 5 days to realize he'd been alone all this time.

Pedro dropped the handwritten letter on the floor and ran out of this office, screaming out a name no one would answer to. He bust through every door, every room in the hollow mansion, opened every light in every hall, and only then did it dawn on him that was it.

That was the end.

That was the day he crumpled the evidence of his greatest betrayal and grabbed his gun.

He was not in his right mind. He didn't think of taking his car, he didn't think about breathing, all he thought about was how dare they? How dare they do this to him? How dare they cast him aside? How dare they throw him away?

The world was blurry. The world was pixelated. He could not see the faces of anyone around him. They had no faces. They looked like painted background figures. They looked like melting wax.

Pedro's eyes were wide and his pupils were shrinked. His breathing was jagged and the gun stuffed in the back of his pants felt cold against his burning skin.

The world was like a coloring book vandalized by a child who could not keep the color in the lines. He slammed into faceless painted figures and melting wax, speaking no apology. He paid no attention to the noise of the outside word, none to the deafening honks of cars nor to the rattling of people.

He's at a thousand, he's sweating in this sweltering afternoon, then suddenly he's at a zero, the world goes silent.

He can only hear his breathing as he looked through the window of his friend's bakeshop. He can only hear himself demand answers in his mind as he watched his lover smile in a way that should have only ever been meant for him.

He watches as laughter comes. He watches as smiles are exchanged. He hyperventilates as lips meet lips. He pulls out his gun as he swears he hears an I love you whispered.

Oscar and I whip our heads when a piercing shriek rings from outside the bakeshop. The girl who screamed ran away, making everyone around her panic and run too.

I stand from my seat by the window, spotting the man across the street. A shiver runs down my spine.

Oscar, who was right behind me, tells me to stay put as he exits the shop. I don't. I follow after him.

"Pedro," Oscar calls and raises a wary hand.

Pedro clenches the handle of his firearm and turns off the safety, "shut up."

"Pedro," I whimper, coming to Oscar's side.

He points the gun to me and grits his teeth, "SHUT UP!"

On instinct, Oscar grabs my arm and pulls me behind him. In turn, Pedro steps onto the road and shakes his head, "DON'T YOU TOUCH HER!"

And as much as I was terrified, still, I circled around Oscar and raised my hands, "Pedro, please-"

Pedro's tears begin to burn down his cheek, "how could you do this to me?! ... with my only friend."

"I know," I shudder as I step forward, "it's all my fault. I-"

"It wasn't her fault-" Oscar yanks be back, walking in front of me, "it was my idea to do this-"

"Oscar," I call.

"-I convinced her to do things with me to make you jealous. It's all-"

"I decided to do those things!" I pull Oscar by the arm, turning to Pedro, "I cried to him about you everyday. He had no choice but to help."

Pedro's brows furrow tightly at the sound of Oscar calling out my name. Oscar and I continue to argue out our guilt.

The only reason we don't get into a fight is because gunshots crack through the air. Oscar and I hunch and huddle together.

Pedro marches forward as he shoots. He empties his magazine.

The next thing I know he's standing in front of us. My heart is racing. My hands are squished in Oscar's. Pedro is still firing his gun even though there were no more bullets left. I watch as the man I loved pulled the trigger on a gun pointed to the sky.

He drops his arm first, then his weapon, then is on his knees.

The man I love called out to his friend, "Pedro-"

"How could you do this to me?" Pedro mutters, eyes gazing upon our feet. He feels his throat constrict as tears drop onto the road, "I love you," he shakes his head, "I would do anything for you," he looks up. His eyes are red and puffy, "how could you do this to me?"

Neither I nor Oscar get to respond as sirens blare and a squad of police come running toward us. We are all ordered to put our hands up. Oscar and I do so and are apprehended. They begin to grow hostile towards Pedro when he does not move an inch from where he knelt.

I watch as three officers apprehend him with way more force than neccessary. They drag him up to his feet so hard his shirt rips. He wasn't even fighting back.

"OI!~ He didn't hurt anyone!" I call to the police around him.

Oscar speaks out, "we're not pressing charges. He didn't do anything."

"Didn't do anything? That man has hurt more people than you can count," the policewoman who had her hand on my shoulder says with contempt.

The policeman by Oscar's side scoffs, "that's the most wanted criminal in Tokyo," he spits to his side, "good fucking riddance."

Pedro is cuffed and sequentially jammed into the back of a police car.

"If you two follow us," the policewoman says, motioning to another police car, "we'd like to take you to the station for questioning."

[afro-ashigaru]

Welcome, these are the vibes.

Irasshaimase, kore ga fun'ikidesu

いらっしゃいませ, これが雰囲気です

[vixensreiha]

Irasshaimase! by ともず

[pumpkinmetaphor]

Thought you might appreciate the new arrivals.

Irasshaimase, I guess.

(I have to make a balcony now, don’t I?)

THEM..............I should have got them too they're so cute........

I love the twins lurking so ominously. And YEAH...they need a balcony. For Reasons.

[beelikesdramas]

irasshaimase!

they’re so funny 😆

[vashtijoy]

fic excerpt: akechi at thirteen

Here's another excerpt from the unpublished fic mountain. Akechi is thirteen, and turning increasingly bad—on the inside. CW child abuse and neglect, obviously.

. . .

When Akechi is thirteen, he’s living with his uncle Hiro over a greengrocer’s in Nerima. Nerima is renowned for its beauty, for its sprawling parks and for the rows and rows of cherry blossom that line the river. But the older he gets, the less easy it is to distract Akechi with pretty trivia, like cherry blossoms and ice cream and stars. They’re just a gloss over the reality of the world.

Nerima borders Saitama Prefecture to the northwest; it gets its prettiness from being about as far from civilisation as is possible, within the twenty-three special wards of Tokyo. It’s also about as far as you can get from Akechi’s original middle school, the one he won the scholarship to. I’m not paying for you to ride the subway every day, his uncle had droned, in his horrible voice that drags itself along like a drunken bee. Do you think I’m made of money? You can use that time to work in the shop.

Akechi had bowed, of course, and said yes, sir. He’s an old hand at eating shit by now. There are always different things they want him to do, different perfections he has to embody—whether to protect himself, or to keep his place, though these days he’s not stupid enough to expect that. Or just for practice, to entertain himself. Who cares if his plans are in pieces at his feet? If his father will never notice a boy with a public school education? Before long Akechi will be back in the city, and his old school will take him back; they’ll have to. He was one of the best students they had.

So: school every day. Homework in his lunch hour, and self-study too, because he’s getting more and more behind; his uncle has cut his cram school days to two plus weekends, even though Akechi gets a subsidised place by now—what? you don’t need to go every day, who do you think you are?—because he wants him to work in the shop, even though the only thing Akechi wants to do with fruits, or vegetables, or the customers, for that matter, is to hurl them repeatedly at the wall until they stick.

It’s not like he has outlandish plans—be the best, get into the best high school he can, study law, go into politics, destroy his evil father. A whole lot of boys all across Japan have those ambitions—with the possible exception of the last; a whole lot of boys starting from a much higher place than he is.

But almost none of Akechi’s relatives understand that those things are important. They want him to stay quiet, stay out of the way. Work in the shop, clean the house or car, run errands—and when he does all those things with a smile, they ignore him, just like when he brings home perfect report cards. Eat less, like he’s not two years into puberty. Sleep less restlessly with the TV blaring and the family yelling at each other around him. Little things like that. And none of them have been interested in him at all. More like the money they can pull in, for fostering a child.

Isn’t it all that way, though? The teachers at school—aren’t they in it for what they can get, as well? Even the ones who encourage Akechi, who seem to care if he does well—they don’t care about him. They just get points for helping him. They’re graded on performance, like Akechi’s graded on his schoolwork. Like the customers who walk into the shop and smile at him in his green apron—so young, so cute, so well-turned-out!—while Akechi stands there bowing and irasshaimaseing, and he helps them with their purchases and tells them what’s in season (because of course he knows), when all he wants to do is tell them that they sound like toads, or that their children are ugly, or that he hopes the carrots and lotus roots he’s exquisitely bagging up give them cancer. Little things like that. Beautiful smile, best bow, hand them the bag with both hands, thinking to himself the whole time, I hope your faces rot off.

Eventually it becomes routine, like all the other roles he’s played, all the other boys his so-called family have expected him to be. He doesn’t know why they haven’t stuck him in a home. Shame, probably; his extended family continue to scrape by in various parts of the city, and some aunt or uncle or cousin can always be guilted into taking on the shameful burden he is. At least for a couple of weeks at a time. By now, Akechi is the best houseguest in the world.

.

He’s still top of the class, through his own refusal to give up and his year at a private school, more than through the hands of any god. He has his own space, the attic above the tiny flat above the shop; he’s cleaned it up as best he can, and propped his futon on pallets so nothing can get in his hair. It doesn’t matter that the attic is unheated; he only sleeps up there. Everything is under control.

By now, he quite enjoys working in the shop. You’re such a good boy, croons an old lady in the shop, seeing her feckless grandson, probably. And of course Akechi smiles and thanks her, he has a gift for bullshitting, he’s a born salesman; at this point he thinks half of these women only come in to talk to him. Just to offer him a few words of impersonal praise, and spend all their money on salad or fruit or mushrooms they don’t need.

They don’t know him. They don’t ask his name. He’s playing a role, again, an actor on a stage. But he feels warm when they praise him, when they talk about how hard he works. Even while he’s cursing them in his head, those curses have no power, because someone has noticed him. Just like when his teachers praise him, even though their praise means less than shit, and only the weight of numbers, accumulating week after week like grains of sand, means a damn thing.

He’s not allowed to use the front entrance to the shop. But when he passes it, he sees the sign: 八百屋, yaoya, “eight-hundred-things shop”: greengrocer. He remembers, dimly, reading it over and over, for a woman with long fingernails and no face, a cloud of perfume with legs.

.

At school, he has more friends than ever, at least in general terms. He’s friendly and makes jokes; he’s confident and laughs at himself; he draws a crowd and people like him, because if you don’t get good at making connections, when you constantly move from place to place, you drown. Of course, there are the few who really hate him, who glare when he passes and would push him just to see him fall. Akechi is friendly to them when necessary, like he is to everyone. But he marks them in his head to be wrecked, when the opportunity and the excuse arise. People with grudges are so easy. Mind you, he thinks that about everyone.

He doesn’t know what he’d be, if he couldn’t charm a crowd. Probably one of those scruffy animals who sulk at the edge of class, who get sent home for having their hair dyed blond or blue or pink, who scowl like they’re on to society, but too stupid to fight it. That will never be Akechi, just because he can lie with his whole face and body, and make people like him. If he’s polished, and cute, and accomplished; if he lies fluently and makes others feel good about themselves, they have no idea he’s some leader’s castoff child. They don’t know he’s parentless and unwanted, that he’s only ever had a mother. They accept him for what he seems to be, for what he puts out into the world. Indeed, if he’s a good enough liar, then what he says goes, doesn’t it? The stories he tells about himself decide the truth.

At least, until somebody asks for his papers. Which are registered at his grandparents’ house, the one place, sometimes, he thinks he has never stayed at, never visited. One child, mother only (deceased), no father: his existence is a stain not only on his missing father’s life, not only on his own life, but on his grandparents’ lives. His grandparents, that he’s never met. A stain that can’t be erased even if he dies. Because Japanese society is simply that rotten.

So if he wants to get off on a few worthless old ladies cooing over him, who gives a shit, exactly? Nobody knows about it, nobody can see through him because nobody sees. They see what they expect to see, they hear what they expect to hear, and if you understand that….

Well, you can do anything. Can’t you?

.

The thing is, Akechi is smart enough to know he’s not unique. But he’s also sure he has insights nobody else could possibly have. Nobody has ever wanted him; that’s just a fact. His mother must have wanted him, or she wouldn’t have kept him, but she also didn’t want him enough to stick around. All the family he’s been landed on—nothing he could do was ever enough for any of them. He’s exceptional, and he’s still never good enough to break through the wall of their indifference.

And it’s not even just his family. All of Japanese society is the problem. Lies and smiles and formal language, all hiding uninterest and self-interest. A fixation on blood children and propriety that means children like him rot, an empty box on a family register and a woman leaving home alone enough to tarnish a whole family for life. It’s all rotten to the core.

And nobody who didn’t live it would even notice. Because nobody cares about anything they don’t have to.

Even the lies he tells others are society’s fault. He hasn’t done anything wrong, has he? He’s great at being anyone at all, other than himself. A walking hall of mirrors and masks that’s sometimes labelled Akechi-kun, sometimes tenin-kun—“Master Shop Assistant”—far, far less frequently Goro-kun, and typically these days at home a curt Hey, you.

[whocarestbhly]

ain’t sweet enough

part one: shortcakes and ice cream

prologue part two

(a/n: honestly, i still wanna continue this story. sooo, i don’t care if ya don’t like it. but i saw a couple of positive responses, thank you very much to those replies. I know this took a little while but I’ll see if I can get a schedule ready. Feel free to tell me how you like it! other tags: fluff, Ichihime, angst, slow start, romance, drama)

“So, you’re working at Urahara’s now, huh?” Ichigo remained silent as he run up the customer’s items. “$10.54, please.” He announced to the young man. The blue haired man smirked and adjusted his glasses. He gave the employee his debit card, “Typical.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Ichigo slightly snapped at his friend, who was purposely irritating him. “It means that you’re a predictable person, Kurosaki. What did you lose your previous job? Or more specifically, did you get mad and quit?” He said, gathering his items in a bag.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, “Geez, Ishida, I can’t stand you sometimes. You’d rub salt in a wound just to prove that it stings.” Ichigo tapped on the screen, printing out his receipt. He handed it to him, “So how long were you planning to keep this job a secret?” Ishida placed his receipt in his wallet and placed the wallet in his back pocket.

“Till I found a new one.” Ichigo came from around the counter and started to unbox some supplies for the store. “I didn’t have time to hear your snarky replies but I guess you beat me to it. I didn’t even know you hung around this area.” He started shelving perishable food and Ishida shifted his feet. “No, I usually don’t. I was just visiting some relatives.” He said and gave a long sigh.

Ichigo noticed, “Everything good?” Before Ishida gave a response, someone walked through the door. Ichigo greeted “いらっしrゃいませ” (Irasshaimase means welcome) and the stranger waved back. Ishida continued when he walked by, “Same old shit. Drama here, business arrangements there.” Ishida’s family is a well-known family who runs a large insurance company. There are plenty of lawyers in his family, which is the major Ichida is currently studying. His immediate family life isn’t the best, especially when your father is pressuring you to take over the company and his mother sets up marital arrangements for him.

“Sounds like a headache. Let me know if you need an aspirin. Or some ice cream.” Ichigo finished unpacking one box and returned to the counter. Ishida slightly smiled, “It’s going to take more than an aspirin and ice cream to get rid of that headache.” Ishida jingled his car keys, “Hey, are you gonna be on the game this weekend?” Ichigo pondered the question, “Don’t know yet. Depends on how tight the money’s looking. Also, depends on Karin and Yuzu.” The orange haired man grieved at the thought of those two.

Ishida smirked and headed towards the door, “Sounds like an excuse. Since you know I’ll beat your ass.” Ichigo flipped him off, “Shut up and get out.” Ichigo said as he saw his friend leave, chuckling. The stranger from while ago came up to the counter to ring his items out.

It’s only been two weeks since he’s been working at Urahara’s shop, and he’s getting the hang of it. Ichigo might have a temper and can sometimes come of as rude, but he was a quick learner and a hard worker. In fact, Urahara trusted him so well, that he left Ichigo in charge of the whole store while he went to pick up some supplies. While it didn’t pay much as Ichigo would like, it did manage to pay the bills, get some food, and make sure that Yuzu and Karin had what they needed. Barely, though. “良い一日を.” (Yoiichinichiwo means have a good day) Ichigo said as the customer left the shop, leaving only him.

He took a breath and before he could decide what to do next, his phone rang. He grabbed his phone and looked at the caller ID, and answered immediately.

“What’s up, Chad?” He placed the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he rearranged the cash register. A deep, low voice came from the phone, “Nothing much, just checking in.” Ichigo smiled to himself. “Ain’t nothing wrong over here. Just trying to make ends meet.” Chad hummed in agreement, “I heard that. You still working at that packaging factory?”

Ichigo contemplated on telling Chad the truth, “Yeah, no. I had to give up that job. They were overworking me. Also, I think they were not paying me fully.” Ichigo closed the register, “I’m working at Urahara’s for now.” His friend went silent for a moment, “Urahara’s? Am I hearing that correctly?”

“Yep, nothing wrong with your hearing. This is a job that’s only going to keep the money flowing until I find a new job.” Ichigo stated his case, while picking up a broom to sweep the floor. Chad chuckled, “Wow, hell must’ve frozen over. I guess Ichida was right about you eventually working for Urahara.” Ichigo sucked his teeth.

“Don’t mention that asshole. He already knows and it’s pissing me off.” Chad laughed at his reply. “Oh, how’s it going with that red head that you’re interested in?” Chad says, hearing some ruckus over the phone. Ichigo continued sweeping the floor as he thought about the last encounter with the woman. He only seen Orihime once after he dropped her off at her place. She was shocked but seemed happy when she saw him working as an employee. She said she was glad that there was another familiar face that she knows around the area, and plus has his number to get in touch.

He truly didn’t get this job because of her, it was necessary to have this job in order to stay afloat. But he considered it a perk of the job to converse with Orihime. She was an interesting character who was bringing a new light in his life. Not as a love interest, because he still thought it was weird to think of her like that (even though he’s enamored by her beauty). He doesn’t even know her as a friend yet, and he’d like to take it slow before he gets to that stage.

“Again, I’m not interested, Chad. I just thinks she’s a nice girl.” He paused on sweeping, “Also, how’s her car? Is it back to running smoothly?” Chad puffed out a breath, “No, not yet. I’m not gonna lie. That beetle is a piece of junk. Motor’s barely functioning, transmission’s faulty, and it needs a bad tune-up. She’s lucky that she was able to drive it for this long.” Ichigo shook his head and sighed.

“Christ, that’s not good. She did tell me that she’s had it for a long time and it’s rusty. But I still don’t think she wants to scrap it yet.” Ichigo heard a sound of something hammering metal. “I ordered some parts, should come in this week. It’ll be enough to get her back on the road. But it’ll still be in bad shape.”

“How much will the bill rack up to be?” Ichigo knew that Orihime was a part-time baker and student. Also, meaning that she didn’t have a lot of money. “Don’t worry. She offered to pay $300 to get it back on the road, I’ll just accept that as payment.”

I’m pretty sure that part cost more than $300 or close to it.

“Chad, that doesn’t sound like much profit. Look, I can spot you some cash-” His friend cut in off, “No, call it a friend’s referral discount.” Ichigo paused and smiled, “Thanks man, I’m sure she’ll appreciate it too.” Sado Yasutora might appear to be quiet and not social to others, but he had a heart of gold. He never asked for nothing or expected anything from his friends.

“You’re a great friend-” Chad cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah. But you owe me in before next year starts.” He hung up the phone. Ichigo gapped at the screen then shrugged. That’s fair.

“Inoue, are you daydreaming again?” Her dear best friend pulled her mind away from the clouds. “Huh? I’m sorry did you say something Tatsuki-chan?” She looked at the short lack haired woman who clearly seemed irritated. Orihime couldn’t blame her though, if she were in Tatsuki’s shoes, she’ll be pretty irritated with herself. Not only is she an airhead, but she’s inconveniencing her friend for a ride since she doesn’t know when to regularly give a maintenance check on a car. “I said asking if you knew when your car would be ready.” Tatsuki repeated herself.

“Oh, don’t know. He said he’ll call me when he’s finished though.” Orihime replied. Tatsuki didn’t seemed too pleased with her answer, “Call you back, huh? Who is this guy anyway cause I don’t trust him. He could be running a scam.” She muttered under her breath and Orihime laughed at her dramatics. “Oh, relax, Tatsuki-chan. The man who referred me to him is a very kind man. So, I believe he’ll do a good job.”

“Geez, Inoue, you’re too damn trusting. You’re that type of person who would see a homeless man on the street, feed him, and allow him to stay in your place until he can get back on his feet.” Her friend stopped at the intersection due to a red light. Orihime slightly frowned at the idea, “Would that be so bad?”

“Yes, it would! He could be a serial killer for all you know. You never invite a stranger into your home, that’s rule number one of not putting yourself in danger.” She let on the gas once it turned green. Orihime Inoue was a beautiful girl with a big heart, but sometimes she was, no-no, is known for being naive. Her naivety has been discussed with her for all her life by different people, but she still doesn’t know when she’s being over-trusting at times. Nobody knows how but she’s managed so far, she calls herself ‘lucky.’ I guess it was luck since she got accepted into a private girl’s school, because anything bad could’ve happened if she was enrolled in a public school.

“I’m relieved that you’re safe though. That man didn’t do anything sexually inappropriate to you, right? You can tell me if he threatened you not to tell.” Tatsuki was interrupted by Orihime’s loud sigh, “For the fourth time, no. He was incredibly nice and mature about things. And quite frankly, I’m offended on how ignorant you think I am. I know when a guy comes across as a pervert and if he’s really genuine.” Tatsuki gave Orihime a side-eye and scoffed at seeing how serious she was. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do!” Orihime slightly raised her voice, becoming agitated. “No, you don’t. Remember that time when that middle aged guy at the gas station asked you for help to get his wallet?” Orihime pondered and recalled the situation, “Yes, he just asked for me to get his wallet of the ground. What’s wrong with that?” Tatsuki rolled her eyes, “Oh please, that man looked healthy to grab his own wallet. And not to mention, he positioned it just right for you to bend down so he can get a glimpse of your underwear. Lucky, I was there to stop him.” Orihime pouted at Tatsuki’s statement, as she stared out the window.

“But was kicking him in his crotch necessary?” She mindlessly said. “Absolutely. That’s an crucial attack to use when a man is coming on to strong towards you.” Tatsuki observed her fuel needle which was inching towards E. She cussed under her breath, “I’m going to need some gas soon.”

Orihime frowned a bit more about the situation she was putting Tatsuki in. Her close friend was seeming a little more upset than she usually is, and she keeps wondering if it’s because she’s becoming burdensome to her friend. “Tats, again I’m sorry about you having to carry me back and forth to work. I promise-” She started to apologize.

“Orihime cut it out, you’re not a pain in my ass. I told you I don’t mind it at all.” Tatsuki replied nonchalantly. But Orihime didn’t let up. “No, no, it’s not fine. If I weren’t so stupid and sold that car years ago, I wouldn’t have to deal with this mess. Then you wouldn’t have to waste your gas and you wouldn’t be so irritated with me.”

Tatsuki looked to Orihime with a face of surprise, which turned into concern. “Hey, Orihime, don’t be so hard on yourself. We can’t predict everything.”

“Well, you can’t predict everything.” The orange-haired man said and she agreed and the car was silent for a moment until she spoke again.

Tatsuki reached over and pinched her cheeks, “Ow!” The red head cried. “Plus, I’m not mad at you. I’m just worried, that’s all. Can’t I be worried, I’m your friend, right?” Orihime slightly smiled and pinched her cheek back. “Yeah, you’re my best friend.”

Tatsuki smirked and went back to focusing on where she was going to get her gas. Then Orihime observed the area more clearly. “Hey! I know where we are! If you make a right on the next street, there’ll be a convenience store on your left.” Tatsuki raised an eyebrow, probably questioning Orihime’s direction. But she thought that it couldn’t hurt so she followed her instructions.

“If he’s here, I’ll introduce you to the man who helped me out that night with my car!” She smiled at the idea of seeing his scowling face. Orihime couldn’t help but giggle because of how soft he was behind that face. If he wanted to, he could scare off anyone with just his looks. But she liked the idea of him being soft as a teddy inside. Not ‘like’ him but was intrigued by him.

“Great. Now I can size up the perv myself.”

They arrived at the small convenience store and mini gas station. Orihime got out of Tatsuki’s gray Ford Focus and made her way to the entrance. She scanned the parking spaces and saw a familiar green Jeep. “Yep, he’s here. Come on Tats.” She waited for her friend to reach her. “I’m coming, geez. Why do you even seem this excited to see him?” She questioned her and Orihime shrugged it off as she opened the door for the both of them.

Tatsuki quickly did a scan over the place. It wasn’t too shabby. It reminded her of a mini farmer’s market along with a marketplace to buy some souvenirs. The place had it’s own charm which could grow on you. She looked at the sign which said ‘Welcome to Urahara’s Corner Store.’ She never heard of this place before but she’ll make a mental note of it next time.

Tatsuki looked towards her friend who was looking around for something, or specifically someone. “いらっしrゃいませ.” They both heard a greeting come from the back. Orihime smiled and grabbed Tatsuki’s arm, “Shh, let’s sneak up on him.” She whispered as her friend took her eyes.

They, well, Orihime tiptoed to the back while Tatsuki walked casually behind her with her hands in her pockets. The black haired woman was peering at the cute souvenirs whilst following Orihime. Something’s caught her eye and made a note to come back when she’s done talking to the perv. Closely making their way to the back, Orihime saw the orange haired men storing some beverages having his back exposed to them. She hopped towards him quietly and cuffed her mouth. “Boo!”

He didn’t flinch as he slowly turned his head to the red head. He chuckled as his eyes landed on the familiar red head, “Inoue? What are you trying to do?” Tatsuki tilted her head to the side, recognizing the voice. Orihime folded her arms and pouted, “Well, I was trying to scare you. But I guess I’ll have to find other creative solutions to shake ya. Anyway, I was just stopping by and I wanted you to meet my friend-”

“Ichigo Kurosaki!?” Tatsuki walked in front of Orihime and stared at the familiar orange head man. Ichigo almost dropped the beverages in his hands. “Tatsuki Arisawa?” He grinned manically and he pulled her in for a big hug. Orihime blinked at the interaction, somewhat confused.

“Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in so long!” Tatsuki wrapped her arms around her childhood friend. “Orihime! You should’ve told me that the perv was Kurosaki! Then I would’ve believed you for sure.” Ichigo backed up from Tatsuki, “Perv? Since when did I become a perv?” She shushed him, “No offense, Ichigo. Orihime told me some random dude offered her a ride home and I immediately thought that it was some perverted old man, since she attracts those type of guys.” Kurosaki have an understanding nod as Tatsuki mockingly winked at Orihime.

“I do not.” Orihime pouted and looked at the pair, still side hugging. “Anyway, wow, what a coincidence that you know each other. So how did you guys meet?”

“Yeah we go way back, since we were nine years ‘till the end of middle school, right?” Kurosaki questioned his childhood friend. “Something like that. Also, we were students apart of the same dojo. So, I guess we are considered rivals also.” Orihime eyes lit up to the words ‘dojo.’

“Really?! That’s so cool! You know I always wanted to be part of a dojo.” Orihime looked at Kurosaki, “Tatsuki won’t teach me though, she said I’m too clumsy to handle it.” Tatsuki rolled her eyes, “Yes, you are.” She stated and Ichigo simply chuckled. Inoue ignored her friend’s reply, “Kurosaki-kun, since you’ve been at a dojo, can you perhaps teach me how to beat people up?” Kurosaki eyebrows rose up in amusement at the request. Before he could respond, Arisawa spoke.

“You’re asking him? Really? He’s tough, I’ll give him that. But he’s nowhere near my level.” Kurosaki sucked his teeth in disagreement. “Please, Tatsuki. You’ve only bested me twice and that’s when we were kids. I’m pretty sure I’ll demolished you now.” Arisawa smack the orange head across the head. “I’d like to see you try.” He narrowed his eyes at Tatsuki, and the shorter woman narrowed her eyes back. Orihime caught both of their attention by clapping her hands.

“But please, Kurosaki-kun, can you consider my request?” His heart slightly swooned at seeing her gray puppy eyes on the cute shortcake. But he quickly regained his focus at the question, “I don’t know, Inoue. I’m not a great teacher, plus I don’t have the time.”

“Also, you’ll be doing more damage to yourself than to the enemy, Orihime.” Arisawa added, making Inoue click her tongue. Sure she was clumsy at times (most of the time) but she deserved to know how to defend herself when the time comes. She may mess up from time to time, but she’ll get the hang of it eventually. She needed this as self-defense too, since Tatsuki kept mentioning how she attracted perverted characters. It was totally not because she was interested in competing in sumo wrestling on the side. Totally not.

“But hey, if you just want to just defend yourself against horny guys. I don’t usually recommend it, but a good kick to the groin will do. If you can’t do that, a head-butt or an elbow to his ribs can do it too.” Ichigo said, and she heard Tatsuki mutter an ‘I told yo so.’ Orihime huffed at the similarity of the pair, “But that’s not cool enough!” She whined and folded her arms. “Oi, quit your whining.” Ichigo smiled and shook his head at the two women’s antics.

“So, what have you’ve been doing since you graduated from that preppy girl’s high school?” He asked his old friend. Tatsuki hated when Kurosaki referred to it as a ‘preppy’ high school, because in reality, it was. The only reason she went to the school was because she was forced. Her mother thought it would’ve been good for Arisawa to hang around girls instead of boy all the time.

“I’m studying to be a health coach.” She replied to Ichigo; he nodded. “What about you, Ichigo? And how’s mister Kurosaki and your twin sisters doing?” Kurosaki’s face tensed for a moment before he replied. “They’re doing well. But I don’t know what to do at the moment. I’m just tryna figure out myself.” Tatsuki gave an understanding nod.

“I told him that he could be a mechanic since he knows cars.” Inoue says as she patted the orange man on the back. Tatsuki eyes widen in realization, “So the mechanic is Sado-san?!”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Kurosaki turned his head in Inoue’s direction. “By the way, did Chad get back to you with the price?” Orihime smiled and nodded, “Oh yeah, this afternoon! He said he’ll charge me $300 for the engine replacement.” Tatsuki’s mouth dropped, and Ichigo just shook his head and sighed. “$300! For an engine replacement! That’s too cheap.” Inoue gasped as he eyebrows rose.

“What? Do I need to pay him more?” Tatsuki folded her arms and shook her head. “No. Well, honestly yes. But Chad is being too nice and he really stubborn. We wouldn’t accept any money from you if he thinks that you need it more than he does.” Orihime pouted her plump lips in a frown. “I knew that it didn’t sound right! It costs around $95 for an oil change. He didn’t have to do that!” Ichigo smiled at the determination she had in her eyes. He thought that it was admirable of her to be honest in her everyday life.

“That’s Chad for you. He might seen a bit intimidating, but he’s a softie at heart.” Ichigo said and he felt a vibration in his back pocket. He reached and saw Karin name across his phone screen. “Ah. My sister’s calling.” Tatsuki nodded and looked at her watch.

“Also, it’s past 7pm. I gotta get you back home, Orihime.” Her friend said and Inoue realized the time. He’s probably sick, waiting for me. She thought to herself.

“Oh yeah, it’s getting late.” The redhead spoke and patted Ichigo on his shoulder. Tatsuki gave the orange head one last side hug. “Tell everyone I said hi, alright. Oh, and put your number in my phone.” She said to his old friend. He nodded putting his phone in his pocket, letting it go to voicemail. In a few moments, he created a contact in Tatsuki’s phone. “We should meet up soon. And hey, maybe I could beat Mr. Kurosaki in a match next time.” Ichigo eyes dulled for a slight moment, remembering the times where his dad and Tatsuki would have arm wrestling fights on Saturday nights. He smiled at the thought, “Maybe.”

The two girls waved goodbye as the headed out in the night. Ichigo waved back wishing them to stay safe. He picked his phone back up and dialed his sister. “Sup, Karin.”

“Hey, what time are you coming home? Yuzu’s having an attack again.” He heard his younger sister say in a controlled voice. He pinched his eyebrows, “Shit, I’ll be home shortly.” As the said their goodbyes, he reminded himself that her medication needed to be picked up. Was the pharmacy even opened at this hour? Probably not. He sucked his teeth at his absent mind.

He rested his head in his hands, “Wish you were here, old man.”

“Thank you, Arisawa for the ride. Sorry to inconvenience you again.” Tatsuki shook her head and smiled, “Told you. No need to say sorry. We’re basically sisters. I’d do anything for you.” Orihime have her a bright smile and instantly hugged her tightly. “I’m glad to have you as a sister.”

Tatsuki returned the hug, pulled back and planted a firm hand on her shoulder, “Orihime, you let me know if anything happens to you, okay?” She gave me a serious look as she looked at my apartment door. I understood that look and nodded, “I will. I’ll be okay.”

“You have my number, call it. Don’t care if it’s two in the morning.” Orihime squeezed her friend’s hand back, “Don’t worry, I will.” She grabbed her handbag that was used for schoolwork and got her keys.

“Ride tomorrow?” She asked and Tatsuki laughed. “Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Orihime got out of the car and walked up the stairway to her apartment. Tatsuki waited until Orihime opened her front door, then beeped the horn. Inoue closed the door behind, welcomed to her dimly lit apartment. She didn’t say a word as she took a few steps in her quiet place.

She sat slid out her her sneakers, and walked further to put her bags onto her couch. Orihime felt very dehydrated, not knowing the last time she had some water. So she fixed her a cup of iced water and sat alone on her couch.

He must not be home. She thought to herself and shrugged at the idea. She relaxed a bit, sitting on the couch and drinking her water. When she was done, she got up to rinse out her glass. She thought about the day as she walked to the sink. I wonder how much the engine replacement would’ve really cost. Probably a solid grand.

She remembered when she first met up with Chad. She had to take the bus and followed the address that Ichigo sent her through text. Yeah, the man was tall but she wasn’t scared of him. She could tell he had a heart of gold by the way he offered her some lemonade. And they had a long conversation, not just about the car, but about how he became friends with Kurosaki-san, who’s also friends with her best friend, Tatsuki.

Kurosaki must be a really lucky guy to be surrounded by such great people. Or maybe it’s just that he’s an amazing guy.

As Orihime put her dishes in the rack, two slender pale arms wrapped themselves around her waist. And she felt a hot breath on her shoulder followed along with a small peck on her neck. “You almost scared me.” She heard him chuckle a bit.

Orihime’s soft gray eyes searched for his green orbs, “What were you doing out so late?”

(The end. I’m kinda thinking about making this the first official chapter since it’s a bit longer. But this chapter was basically introducing everyone besides the two main characters. Next time, it’ll start to pick up a bit more. Hope you liked it, smooches.)

[nek-ros]

i went to this kinda crowded sushi restaurant once and when the waiters yelled irasshaimase a second after that i heard a small kid try to yell it like "iwasaimase"

[a-basket-of-muses]

Flower Shop (Private rp)

@howlofthewolf

Hearing the front door ring Hotaru left the arrangement she was doing. She grabbed a towel on her way to the front to dry her hands to see who had come in. "Irasshaimase." Came her called greeting as she rounded the corner to the sales floor of her shop.

She was finally able to get a good look, and scent, if her customers. Neither were human, but that didn't bother her. Both had long dark hair, similarly tied up like her own red locks. The man had a single eye, the other being covered by a patch. She suspected a long ago injury had cost him part of his sight. The woman however had beautiful brown eyes.

Hotaru smiled gently at them both and bowed at the waist. "Kon'nichiwa. Welcome to my shop. How may I serve you?"

[yurashinra]

♡Happy Maid Day [メイドの日]♡

Yura(MC)♀️ x Solomon

Solomon visits the maid cafe, and Yura welcomed him💕

"Irasshaimase, Goshujin-sama!"

Let's say the spell together to make this omurice more delicious "Moe moe kyun!" ❤️

Art by ©dariuzz_shi

[mizutoyama]

While the Coffee Is Hot

A/N #1: This is my contribution to this month's theme of the @hp-12monthsofmagic challenge: Anything's possible (if you've got enough nerves)

“Funiculi Funicula… Like that Italian song.”

Alice had been living in Tokyo for a few months now, but it wasn’t until she saw the name of that cafe, hidden down a narrow back alley, that she remembered the urban legend attached to it. A legend that had been told to her by none other than her dear friend Rowan.

In fact, her friend had visited that cafe while visiting Japan with family. A small break from visiting the extended family in India, as Rowan said in her postcard. She had heard of that cafe through a Muggle magazine article or something, Alice didn’t remember. Anyway, it was rumoured that one could return to the past using one particular chair in that cafe. Rowan absolutely wanted to try it in the hopes of comparing that means of time travel, which seemed so harmless it was advertised to Muggle, with the time-turner that was rumoured to be very dangerous. Unfortunately, as Rowan explained in her postcard, one could only go back to the past to see someone who had at least once visited the cafe. Since Rowan knew no one who had been to that cafe, she was never able to test how it all worked.

Alice stood at the entrance of that alley, staring at the name. Because Rowan had visited that place, she technically knew someone who had been there. Though, as this whole time travelling thing had been publicized in the Muggle world, it may have just been a hoax to attract clients back in those days. Then again, she was a witch, so she knew strange things could happen in this world, so why not a time-travelling chair in a cafe.

Alice took a deep breath. “Anything’s possible,” she said to herself as she went down the basement stairs and opened the cafe door.

CLANG-DONG

“Irasshaimase!” was heard right after the bell above the door rang.

While Alice wished she was more fluent in Japanese, she still had to rely on a spell that allowed her to understand when people spoke to her in a foreign language and who would understand her in their own language if she spoke English (or French or whatever language she wanted). That spell usually lasted one hour when cast with a wand but 15 minutes if she tried to do it wandless. She quickly flicked her wand at her head before coming into view inside the cafe.

A young woman with big round eyes and a bright smile greeted her from behind the counter of this windowless cafe. “Oh! We seldom get foreigners here!” the woman exclaimed.

Alice was startled. She wasn’t used to people in Japan being so straightforward, especially not to a foreigner, an outsider. “Hum, a friend told me about this place and, hum, the chair….”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” replied the woman. “But you can only go back to the past to see someone who already visited…”

“I know,” replied Alice as she sat at the counter.

“Oh! Do you know the other rules?” The woman looked surprised. While Alice was not the first foreigner to ask about time-travelling (she was probably the third), she was definitely the first to know at least one of the rules.

Alice raised an eyebrow. “Other… rules?”

The woman nodded. “Yes. You can only time travel using that chair over there,” she said, pointing to a chair currently occupied by a woman in a white dress who was reading a book.

Alice remembered Rowan mentioning something about that woman, that, while she looked human, she was actually a ghost. Most likely a yokai.

The woman continued, “You can only sit there when she isn’t. She only gets up once a day to go to the bathroom, but be aware she has no concept of time, so it is unknown when exactly she will get up.”

“I see…”

“Once she does, and you sit there, the coffee is poured. Once it is done being poured, you will travel back in time. Once in the past, you can’t leave the chair. And you must return before the coffee gets cold.”

Alice nodded as the woman looked up toward the ceiling and counted her fingers. “Are there any more rules?” asked Alice. “Like, how does one get back to the present?”

“By finishing the coffee,” said a voice coming from behind.

A large man stood in the door frame and was eyeing Alice suspiciously. Was she some Western journalist trying to write an article on his cafe and time travelling? It wasn’t enough that a Japanese publication would bring that story back from the dead every once in a while, but if Westerners started that as well…

“Nagare… She’s here for the chair,” said the woman behind the counter.

He knew it!

“She knows someone who came here.”

Wait… what? That journalist can actually try…

“I’m not a journalist,” said Alice matter-of-factly.

“Oh! Really? Wait, how do you…?”

“You have a time-travelling chair. Do you really think it’s the only strange thing that exists in this world?” Alice knew this might be breaking the whole Statute of Secrecy thing, but these were Muggles with a magical chair. So it’s not like she was revealing some big secret by hinting she might read minds.

“Right… So, if you want to use the chair, you’ll still have to wait for…” started to say Nagare, but, as if on cue, the lady in the white dress stood up and headed for the bathroom. “Looks like now is your chance.”

“Is there anything else I should know?” she asked as she sat down on the chair.

“Let me see. You can only travel in this chair when the woman in white isn’t there; you can only go back to see someone who has visited this cafe; you cannot get up from this chair while you are in the past; you must finish your coffee before it gets cold to come back to the present; and whatever you do in the past, you won’t be able to change the present.”

“You mean I’m not allowed to change the present.”

“It’s not a question of being allowed or not… You just can’t.”

“So… If I were to shoot you in the head in the past and came back here to the present, you’d still be alive?”

Nagare nodded.

“Interesting… That’s why it’s safer…” she said, mostly to herself, as the woman with the big eyes carried a silver kettle and a coffee cup on a silver tray. She placed the cup in front of Alice and handed the kettle to the man.

The man looked at Alice, who gave him a slight nod. He started to pour the coffee slowly. Alice looked at this thin coffee thread flowing from the narrow spout of the kettle. As the coffee filled the cup, Alice stared at the liquid when she suddenly realized everything around her was starting to become indistinguishable from the dancing steam. In fact, she was beginning to feel like she was becoming steam herself. While the feeling wasn’t great, it was still better than a Portkey. She closed her eyes as becoming vapour was still a strange sensation, trying to concentrate on the day Rowan had visited.

The moment she felt like she was back to her solid self, she opened her eyes. She was still in the cafe, the big Japanese man named Nagare standing behind the counter. He looked a bit surprised to see a foreigner in that chair but didn’t say anything. He did look younger than the man she had seen pouring the coffee, so she knew she was really in the past.

CLANG-DONG

“Ohayoo gozaimasu!” she heard a familiar voice say.

Rowan. Alice couldn’t help but smile, but she felt her heart beat faster. She hadn’t seen Rowan since that faithful day. While she was thrilled to see her friend after so long, she figured Rowan would wonder why she was there. Or why she would come to visit her in the past. Even if she told her, the outcome wouldn’t change.

“Alice?” Rowan stared at her friend, who seemed different, older.

Alice felt her throat tighten. Getting all choked up wasn’t part of her plan. But what was her plan exactly? She wasn’t entirely sure. The only thing she thought of when she saw that coffee was to see if it really worked. And considering the only person she knew who visited that coffee was Rowan, perhaps her plan was to see her best friend who had left her too soon. Now that Rowan was in front of her, she didn’t know what to say. Whatever she said to her, it would not change her faith.

“I thought you were in France with… Wait a minute! You look much older than the last time I saw you! You come from the future! So that chair really works! Once you’re done, I’ll have to try it!” Rowan was beaming at the idea.

“You can only go back to see someone who’s been here before,” said Alice, looking away from that bright smile she hadn’t seen in years. It was hard to look into the eyes of someone you knew would die protecting her friends, who died because she was worried about you.

“What? That’s too bad. And very limiting. The number of people who can time travel here must be minute.”

“Indeed.” Alice just kept looking down.

Rowan looked at her with concern. “Are you okay? Did something bad happen in the future? Are you trying to prevent it?”

Alice let out a deep sigh. “You can’t change the present. That’s another one of the rules.”

“Wait, there are more rules?”

Alice quickly enumerated the rules to Rowan, holding the coffee cup between her hands. She could feel the heat quickly dissipating. She glanced toward the counter, but the man wasn’t there anymore. It was now just her and Rowan in the room, so she took out her wand and flicked it at the cup. She placed on hand on the side of the cup to check, but the temperature hadn’t changed.

“Looks like the rules bind even us,” observed Rowan. “Must be a magical artifact.” She leaned over the table to get a better look at the cup.

“Maybe, but it’s not like we have all the time in the world.”

“Right, you have to go back before it gets cold. Do you know what happens if you don’t?”

Alice shook her head, now looking straight at Rowan. She realized that this was her chance to change her last memory of her friend from one of a corpse to one of her, absorbed by some new magical mystery. That’s why they became best friends. Both were curious, but Rowan was more about researching books to find an answer, while Alice had a more hands-on approach. They complemented each other well. After her friend’s death, Alice’s modus operandi changed to incorporate some of Rowan’s processes. Alice had felt the need to fill that void left by her dear friend. And now here she was, looking like she was once again ready to crack open a book to figure out how this time travel worked.

Alice closed her eyes. She wanted to engrave this moment in her memory. This is how she should remember Rowan, her best friend.

“You better drink up to tell me how it all went!” exclaimed Rowan as she put her finger in the coffee. “That thing is about to get cold.” She added two spoons of sugar, knowing her friend didn’t like the bitterness of coffee.

“Tell you?”

“Of course! I’m the one who sent you to test it out, right?”

Whatever I say, it won’t change the present. Alice nodded, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. Oh, if she could go back to that time of innocence before she knew what would happen to Rowan. Part of her wanted to grab Rowan’s arm and bring her to the present. But she knew she had to let go, that dwelling on the past would only lead to more sorrow. She had to take this for what it was: a chance to create a new memory with a dear friend. This was more than she could have hoped for.

Before the tears could roll down her cheeks, she drank her coffee in one gulp. She coughed a little as she felt herself becoming vapour again. As her surroundings also turned into steam, she saw Rowan waving at her one last time.

Soon, the coffee came back into view sans Rowan. She took a deep breath, but her emotions were catching up to her. Her shoulders started shaking as tears rolled down her cheek, and she sniffled loudly, catching the attention of the woman with the big round eyes.

“Are you alright?” she asked, walking over with a box of tissues.

Alice nodded. While she was currently a blubbery mess, she was indeed okay. She had just been able to see her friend. To see her wave at her one last time with that big smile of hers. In a way, she had just been able to say goodbye to her friend. A real proper goodbye. Even if she wasn’t sure if Rowan saw her, she had waved back. She felt a sense of closure fall on her.

After her sobbing had calmed down, she went to pay for her coffee at the cash register, which looked as old as Dumbledore and left the coffee shop, thanking the owners as she passed through the door.

Blinded by the sunlight as she stepped outside, she didn’t see a redhead approaching her.

“Alice Beaumont! Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you for an hour at the coffee shop!” exclaimed Tulip Karasu.

“Sorry, I must have gotten lost.”

“My coffee got cold while I waited,” grumbled Tulip.

Alice chuckled before she started to walk away as if in a daydream. “If only coffee never got cold… But I guess that’s not possible.”

A/N #2: I will admit that I originally had no intention of contributing anything to this month's theme, as the only thing that came to mind was Alice's first Quidditch match, and that fic is very far from even being written. But, as I was reading "Before the coffee gets cold" yesterday, I had a "what if" moment that I sorta felt fit the theme (maybe not so much the nerve part, but definitely the "anything's possible" bit). So this story is sort of a crossover between that book and HPHM that I don't really consider cannon within my own universe. Also, it was written the day before the last day of this month's challenge (because that's when I had my "what if" moment), therefore I'm well aware that it would probably need some more polishing. But I don't care. I haven't written a story for the pure sake of writing a story in a while, so this felt nice.

[reixtsu]

❀❀ Irasshaimase! いらっしゃいませ ➜

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Bungo Stray Dogs (Excluding child characters unless strictly platonic, and Ougai Mori)

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Chainsaw Man (Excluding Part 2)

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Utaite (Excluding Utaite ships)

The Case Study Of Vanitas (Excluding child characters unless strictly platonic)

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