She's just started digging into her bowl when the ronin takes a seat at the far end of the counter. He's in a tattered cowl that exposes as much of his midriff as her own, but it's not exactly to his benefit. Instead, it has her initially questioning why he's prioritizing ramen over some new clothes.
But as she puts her bowl down and sends him a sideways glance, Akali realizes it might not necessarily be a bad thing. While he's lean around the waist, there's undeniable lines of muscle running down tanned skin puckered with scars. In her eyes, scars mean suffering and strength, and each had a story to prove it. And accompanied by the fact that he's actually not terrible looking, it's enough to capture her interest.
...Enough to maybe be alright with it if he took her home tonight, which isn't a thought that crosses her mind too often. But it's been a while, to say the least, and the longer she spends observing him, the more appealing he appears to be.
Throwing caution to the wind, she decides to beckon the stall owner with a wave of her hand and orders him a pint, same as hers, and waits.
When it arrives – as predicted – she catches him giving her a once-over out of the corner of her eye. There's a curious look on his face as he evaluates her, and much like herself, his gaze seems drawn to the level of her exposed stomach not yet filled with ramen. She figures he likes what he sees, since it's not long until he moves to the empty seat beside her.
"This is the first time a pretty lady's the one buying the drink for me," he says with a crooked smirk, voice more pleasing to the ears than she'd anticipated.
"I'm surprised," Akali lies, but still toasts when he holds up his glass. His own bowl of ramen arrives shortly after, and she tries her best to control her slurping noises as they eat.
The ronin introduces himself as Yasuo, and he's more charismatic than she expects him to be. He's a wanderer, like herself, but for a purpose she cannot quite place. While he doesn't say much about himself, he does tell her stories of the places he's been and the things he's seen. The enthusiasm behind his experiences is quite charming, and she actually doesn't mind that he doesn't ask about herself. This way, she doesn't have to reveal her own identity or purpose, even if the kama peeking out of her pack is telling.
"What's in the flask?" she asks in case he might be thinking about going there. All too easily, he unstraps it from his side with a mischievous grin.
"I doubt you'd be able to guess," Yasuo prompts, taking a long sip to prove it's safe before extending it to her. Without preamble, she places her lips where his had been and tastes rancid gasoline. He chuckles as she retches and sputters.
"That's absolutely vile," Akali manages to remark, sticking out her tongue with disgust. "Like something died in there."
"But sometimes, it's exactly what one needs," he says wistfully, and that, she can relate to. Too many night's she's spent in the company of a bottle and a bandage roll, solemnly tending to her wounds and wondering how things might be different if she still had them to rely on.
The night has her wondering, sometimes, if they might try to find her someday if the rumors surrounding the rogue assassin began to wane. Would they come to her aid if she bit off more than she could chew? And if she were to perish alone, would they honor her as if she were still one of their own?
"...I can drink to that," she says with a ghost of a smile, taking a hefty swig to numb the thought.
While the ronin raises a brow, it's beyond her if he notices the weight she carries, but he proceeds to recount about how a young mage dropped a snowy mountainside on his head. It elicits a peal of laughter from her, and helps her momentarily forget. The evening is a reprieve for them both, and they spend longer conversing than anticipated while their bowls lay long emptied.
With a few rounds downed and sips passed from his flask, Akali's face has adopted a pretty flush and her fingers linger on his arm as he continues to humor her. It isn't until he unashamedly starts playing his flute that the stall owner threatens to expel them both, and it finally registers how late they've stayed.
"I have a room at an inn not too far away," Yasuo tells her finally, sheepishly scratching at his nape despite the obvious intentions.
"Let's go," she immediately replies. They each leave a few crumpled bills on the countertop before she grabs him by the wrist and pulls him under the curtains, not wanting to waste any time.
She hasn't had too much to drink, just enough to feel good. As they make their way down the street, she feels an arm snake around her waist, warm against her skin as she leans into him with a giggle. It's difficult for both of them to save face as they make their way past the inkeeper, looking like a pair of overeager teenagers conspicuously lumbering down the hallway.
They don't bother with the light as they stumble into the room. Despite wearing clothes that look like they belong in a trash heap, the ronin kisses like he's broken many hearts, and Akali can't help but think she's landed quite the catch as she pleasantly hums against his mouth.
He immediately has her against the nearest wall, exploring her feminine curves like a man starved. His hands do seem momentarily confused when he finds the utility pack behind her, but he quickly recovers and hooks his thumbs into her waistband instead. In the meantime, she's made quick work of his cowl, nails raking across the musculature of his shoulders and back with urgency.
Somehow, they manage to partly unroll the futon before they haphazardly throw themselves on top of it. She laughs breathlessly as his stubble tickles her collarbone, but suddenly, his hands stop and she feels a questioning murmur against her neck.
"You never told me your name," he realizes, apparently enough of a gentleman as to not want to do things backwards. The knot of her top is held hostage between his fingers, fabric suffocating against her chest as she sends him her best pout.
"Akali," she says briskly, finding it of little importance now that they're here. Besides, for all she knows, he might even forget by the morning.
"Akali," he mirrors in a tone that might suggest otherwise. There's a flash of a smile as he pulls the tie loose in a single, calculated movement. "Good to meet you."
"Likewise," she says, liking the way her name sounds on his lips as she kisses him again.
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Cover art made by the awesome Erik Quinn who had a similar idea upon Akali's rework release! Find the full version at erikquinn artstation.
Originally written for the Akali themed zine called "Smokescreen" which is available on the leagueofzines tumblr. I don't actively ship these two, but I did think they might make good drinking buddies since they're both wanderers now. I guess it kind of escalated from there into a friends with benefits sort of thing in this stand alone piece, but I'm not exactly complaining ;)