Northwestern District
Though neither Fumiko nor Aya were paragons of physical prowess, the child that they hefted up by armpits and legs was light enough that the two university students had little problem. It was a bit problematic, of course, when Fumiko remembered that the door to Spice Tea opened outwards rather than inwards, but someone else opened the door for them, letting the two inside the tea shop. The highschool boy, all gangly limbs and freckled face, smiled weirdly at the trio, and then turned his gaze back to Rie, who smiled even as she rinsed a towel in cold water.
“Euhuehuehue…” came the teenager’s creepy laugh. He retreated back to his own seat at the counter; the door, as it swung back into place, smacked into Fumiko.
Still, that didn’t cause any particular trouble to either of the child-carriers. They laid her down upon a sofa, resting the auburn-haired girl’s head on one of the arms. Upon closer inspection now, her eyes were heavily-bagged and her skin was pale in such a way that couldn’t just be from lack of sun. Sleep deprivation, perhaps? Regardless, it was evident to both women that this particular kid hadn’t collapsed merely from heat exhaustion...for better or worse, at least.
Time passed, with Rie bringing over glasses of water for all three of them, as well as a damp towel to place over the child’s forehead. Her breathing levelled out soon, and after a while, it became clear that she was simply...asleep. The fatigue may have gotten her before the heat did. As Fumiko and Aya enjoyed their own respite in the teashop, the door to Spice Tea opened once more. A man, perhaps in his mid-thirties, strode in. He wore black slacks and a white collared shirt, his hair recently shaved as if in anticipation for the season. Fleshy-faced, a frantic expression was on his face as he scanned the small shop, practically passing up Rie and Fumiko completely before letting out a sigh of relief as his gaze settled on the sleeping child.
“Oh thank the gods,” the man exalted, clapping his hands together in a moment of heavenward gratitude. Walking up towards the two university students, he knelt before the sofa, as if confirming with his own eyes the state of the child. Satisfied after a moment of inspection, he turned towards the two. “I can’t thank you two enough! Suzuha, she just up and ran away, and I wasn’t able to catch up and then didn’t know where she oh she’s always been so sickly too and if she just fell where no one could see her, ugh!”
He clamped his hand over his mouth, ceasing his rambling immediately, and took a deep breath.
“Where are my manners? I’m Gotou Matsumaru, and Suzuha here’s my niece. You two are?”
“Euhuehuehue…” came the teenager’s creepy laugh. He retreated back to his own seat at the counter; the door, as it swung back into place, smacked into Fumiko.
Still, that didn’t cause any particular trouble to either of the child-carriers. They laid her down upon a sofa, resting the auburn-haired girl’s head on one of the arms. Upon closer inspection now, her eyes were heavily-bagged and her skin was pale in such a way that couldn’t just be from lack of sun. Sleep deprivation, perhaps? Regardless, it was evident to both women that this particular kid hadn’t collapsed merely from heat exhaustion...for better or worse, at least.
Time passed, with Rie bringing over glasses of water for all three of them, as well as a damp towel to place over the child’s forehead. Her breathing levelled out soon, and after a while, it became clear that she was simply...asleep. The fatigue may have gotten her before the heat did. As Fumiko and Aya enjoyed their own respite in the teashop, the door to Spice Tea opened once more. A man, perhaps in his mid-thirties, strode in. He wore black slacks and a white collared shirt, his hair recently shaved as if in anticipation for the season. Fleshy-faced, a frantic expression was on his face as he scanned the small shop, practically passing up Rie and Fumiko completely before letting out a sigh of relief as his gaze settled on the sleeping child.
“Oh thank the gods,” the man exalted, clapping his hands together in a moment of heavenward gratitude. Walking up towards the two university students, he knelt before the sofa, as if confirming with his own eyes the state of the child. Satisfied after a moment of inspection, he turned towards the two. “I can’t thank you two enough! Suzuha, she just up and ran away, and I wasn’t able to catch up and then didn’t know where she oh she’s always been so sickly too and if she just fell where no one could see her, ugh!”
He clamped his hand over his mouth, ceasing his rambling immediately, and took a deep breath.
“Where are my manners? I’m Gotou Matsumaru, and Suzuha here’s my niece. You two are?”
Southern District
“Huh?”
The punk blinked as Otoya was sent reeling back from his punch. It felt like punching a...piece of beef, really. Was this university student really just all talk? Wait, no...was he really just that strong? In an instant, memories flooded past, of all the times his upperclassmen shat on him just for being younger than him, of all the times he grit his teeth and clenched his fists, but was too afraid to try because they were all bigger and older than him.
Could it be, that he was the one that was The Strong?
“Ha...hahaha! Fucking dumbass! What did I tell ya? Don’t mess with the West Park Bois!” Crew Cut laughed anxiously, heart pounding a million miles an hour, his knuckles still stinging from where it glanced against the spray can. With the pretty boy down, he aimed blow after blow upon him, alternating between stomps and kicks with gleeful vengeance.
“Yeah! Mess him up, bro!” Slick Hair cheered as well, fist pumping up aggressively. “Beat in his face till his mother won’t even recog- BWUH?!”
An impact struck the slick-haired teen on the side of the jaw, cracking his head away. Skittering to the ground was a black object, rectangular in shape. A rock? A shuriken? No...it was a cellphone! Crew Cut wheeled about, his eyes narrowed against the silhouette that strode towards them in broad daylight.
Bold black eyebrows. Black hair, coiffed in a way that it was ruffled even on a windless day. Eyes, dark and proud, shining with the unmistakable light of JUSTICE.
“Evildoers quake! My power surges, my soul roars! In the light of the Sun, your fates are decided! HENSHIN!” Tossing his black leather jacket into the azure above to expose his padded, yellow-streaked motorcycle suit underneath, the man rushed for Crew Cut, who growled once more with berserking ferocity. The thug leapt over Otoya and rushed for the stranger, rearing his fist back for a mighty blow!
But even the most powerful of fists could not compete with the Diver Kick! Leaping into action, the mysterious warrior of love and justice twisted his body like a corkscrew as his feet planted against the thug’s chest, sending him skidding against the scalding concrete. Slick Hair cried out, but rushed for the prone warrior, his own foot drawn back for mighty soccer kick into the gut. An impact resounded heavily, but there was no satisfaction there; the hero’s armor held strong, repelling the blow! Pushing the slick-haired bastard’s foot back, the suited man sprung up to his feet again, fists springing out into a flurry of blows. Jab, jab, cross, straight, hook. Five strikes struck true, and the skinny thug fell back, stunned and bruised.
“GRAHHH!”
Crew Cut recovered again, enraged. His brain boiled from the pain and the summer heat, his lungs heaved madly, and adrenaline raced through his veins like cocaine injections! He was The Strong! His fist could lay out university students in a single blow! And with that bumblebee bastard’s back exposed, there was no wa-
“The laws of victory has been decided.”
-y he could lose! Like a smith bringing down their hammer upon molten steel, Crew Cut swung for the back of the man’s head with everything he ha-
“Farewell. Hornet Sting!”
The hero’s heel slammed into Crew Cut’s solar plexus, folding him in half and sending him flying. Perfect timing, perfect technique, perfect strength. A single blow to decide the fight. The bulky thug fell to the ground again, and this time, he could only wheeze, unable to get up. Their ‘leader’, one of his eyes still squinted from the paint sprayed upon his face, finally stood up, and with the help of Slick Hair, got Crew Cut up. They hobbled away in shame, but not before he spat out, “We’ll remember this! Watch your backs!”
The sun continued to beat. With the adversaries gone, the man retrieved his jacket once more. “Deactivate,” he muttered, before zipping his jacket over his suit. He walked over to Mitsuo, crouching beside him. “You alright? I’ve got band-aids and such, but if they knocked a tooth loose or something, it’s outta my area of expertise. I’m sorry I was unable to do anything for your cat.”
The punk blinked as Otoya was sent reeling back from his punch. It felt like punching a...piece of beef, really. Was this university student really just all talk? Wait, no...was he really just that strong? In an instant, memories flooded past, of all the times his upperclassmen shat on him just for being younger than him, of all the times he grit his teeth and clenched his fists, but was too afraid to try because they were all bigger and older than him.
Could it be, that he was the one that was The Strong?
“Ha...hahaha! Fucking dumbass! What did I tell ya? Don’t mess with the West Park Bois!” Crew Cut laughed anxiously, heart pounding a million miles an hour, his knuckles still stinging from where it glanced against the spray can. With the pretty boy down, he aimed blow after blow upon him, alternating between stomps and kicks with gleeful vengeance.
“Yeah! Mess him up, bro!” Slick Hair cheered as well, fist pumping up aggressively. “Beat in his face till his mother won’t even recog- BWUH?!”
An impact struck the slick-haired teen on the side of the jaw, cracking his head away. Skittering to the ground was a black object, rectangular in shape. A rock? A shuriken? No...it was a cellphone! Crew Cut wheeled about, his eyes narrowed against the silhouette that strode towards them in broad daylight.
Bold black eyebrows. Black hair, coiffed in a way that it was ruffled even on a windless day. Eyes, dark and proud, shining with the unmistakable light of JUSTICE.
“Evildoers quake! My power surges, my soul roars! In the light of the Sun, your fates are decided! HENSHIN!” Tossing his black leather jacket into the azure above to expose his padded, yellow-streaked motorcycle suit underneath, the man rushed for Crew Cut, who growled once more with berserking ferocity. The thug leapt over Otoya and rushed for the stranger, rearing his fist back for a mighty blow!
But even the most powerful of fists could not compete with the Diver Kick! Leaping into action, the mysterious warrior of love and justice twisted his body like a corkscrew as his feet planted against the thug’s chest, sending him skidding against the scalding concrete. Slick Hair cried out, but rushed for the prone warrior, his own foot drawn back for mighty soccer kick into the gut. An impact resounded heavily, but there was no satisfaction there; the hero’s armor held strong, repelling the blow! Pushing the slick-haired bastard’s foot back, the suited man sprung up to his feet again, fists springing out into a flurry of blows. Jab, jab, cross, straight, hook. Five strikes struck true, and the skinny thug fell back, stunned and bruised.
“GRAHHH!”
Crew Cut recovered again, enraged. His brain boiled from the pain and the summer heat, his lungs heaved madly, and adrenaline raced through his veins like cocaine injections! He was The Strong! His fist could lay out university students in a single blow! And with that bumblebee bastard’s back exposed, there was no wa-
“The laws of victory has been decided.”
-y he could lose! Like a smith bringing down their hammer upon molten steel, Crew Cut swung for the back of the man’s head with everything he ha-
“Farewell. Hornet Sting!”
The hero’s heel slammed into Crew Cut’s solar plexus, folding him in half and sending him flying. Perfect timing, perfect technique, perfect strength. A single blow to decide the fight. The bulky thug fell to the ground again, and this time, he could only wheeze, unable to get up. Their ‘leader’, one of his eyes still squinted from the paint sprayed upon his face, finally stood up, and with the help of Slick Hair, got Crew Cut up. They hobbled away in shame, but not before he spat out, “We’ll remember this! Watch your backs!”
The sun continued to beat. With the adversaries gone, the man retrieved his jacket once more. “Deactivate,” he muttered, before zipping his jacket over his suit. He walked over to Mitsuo, crouching beside him. “You alright? I’ve got band-aids and such, but if they knocked a tooth loose or something, it’s outta my area of expertise. I’m sorry I was unable to do anything for your cat.”
Eastern District
“Going once, going twice, sold! To the honorable Master Yoshio Takemori for 5500 yen!”
Varying sounds of disappointment and congratulations sounded through the crowd as the gentleman with the megaphone, flanked by his two, assumed, granddaughters, cut through the crowd to take his five eels. For the occasion, they were placed in a sandalwood box, chunks of ice cubes separating the eels from each other, and with utmost ceremony, the transaction was done.
And of course, once one transaction finished, another began. Flourishing his blades, Captain Belo hummed a chipper tune as he descaled and hacked the snappers into manageable sizes. Even without weighing them properly, he had a precise sense of just how hefty each individual slab of fish meat was. Within twenty seconds of blindingly fast work, Iwao was 3600 yen poorer, but three pounds of fish richer, a plastic bag of fish and ice in his hands.
“Thank you for your business~ Shall I be expecting you Tuesday, or will that be Aya’s turn?”
Varying sounds of disappointment and congratulations sounded through the crowd as the gentleman with the megaphone, flanked by his two, assumed, granddaughters, cut through the crowd to take his five eels. For the occasion, they were placed in a sandalwood box, chunks of ice cubes separating the eels from each other, and with utmost ceremony, the transaction was done.
And of course, once one transaction finished, another began. Flourishing his blades, Captain Belo hummed a chipper tune as he descaled and hacked the snappers into manageable sizes. Even without weighing them properly, he had a precise sense of just how hefty each individual slab of fish meat was. Within twenty seconds of blindingly fast work, Iwao was 3600 yen poorer, but three pounds of fish richer, a plastic bag of fish and ice in his hands.
“Thank you for your business~ Shall I be expecting you Tuesday, or will that be Aya’s turn?”
Central District
Hiroyuki smiled when Sayuri returned to the table. “Thanks for doing that for me, Sa-chan,” he said, reaching over to brush a strand of hair out of her face. “Appreciate it.”
With that, he leaned back, slotting his phone back into his pockets. “Feel like I slept alright myself,” he commented, picking small clumps of rice out of the bowl. “Only gonna get hotter though; look into getting another set of covers, will you? So there’s not two of us warming it up.”
He finished eating soon after, placing the bowl of half-finished rice down as he stood up. Checking his watch, the man nodded to himself. “I’ve got someone to meet now, Sa-chan. Don’t worry ‘bout making dinner for me, yeah? I don’t imagine I’ll be back till late.”
With that, he leaned back, slotting his phone back into his pockets. “Feel like I slept alright myself,” he commented, picking small clumps of rice out of the bowl. “Only gonna get hotter though; look into getting another set of covers, will you? So there’s not two of us warming it up.”
He finished eating soon after, placing the bowl of half-finished rice down as he stood up. Checking his watch, the man nodded to himself. “I’ve got someone to meet now, Sa-chan. Don’t worry ‘bout making dinner for me, yeah? I don’t imagine I’ll be back till late.”
1x Like
1x Thank
1x Thank
