The hustle and bustle of the city was a familiar sight. Running around and scurrying back and forth like ants, though at times it was comparable to herded cattle, having to be forced to move with the others around you. Car horns and sirens formed a deafening symphony in the citizens of New York City's ears. Lights lit up the streets and buildings, whether it was advertisements, or merely the street lights. This was home to many people, the fast paced life of the city.

Or, it was the hard and unforgiving life of a certain male, struggling to survive.

Kiku Honda sighed loudly, resting his chin on the backs of his hands, staring at the people passing by. The smell of newspapers and ink was strong, clogging his nose uncomfortably. Sweat beaded down his brow, the sun basically smacking him with its waves of heat. His clothes sticking to him, he felt disgusting. A hot summer's day in the middle of a stuffy city…not the best day to be working, the man thought sourly.

Kiku yawned lazily, standing up straight and pulling the t-shirt away from his damp skin, trying to at least get some air circulating to that part of his body. A newspaper salesman on the side of the street in the busiest city in America was not his ideal job. Of course, at the moment this foul paying job was all he could get. Though the crabby man who bossed him around while he was out all day was not a very good incentive to stay at this horrible job, but as Kiku kept thinking, there weren't many reasons to stay in the first place.

A soft sneeze erupted from his nose, the fumes that came with the city life was suffocating. Sniffling feebly, he attempted to rub his red and puffy eyes, though that did nothing to sooth them, if at all it caused more irritation. It did not help too much to possess an allergy to newspaper ink.

Groaning with distaste, Kiku looked up at the sky. Of course it was clouded from the smog and smoke that the factories and unsanitary skyscrapers coughed out on a daily basis, but it did give unspoken promises to the man. For he knew that the sun masked by the hazardous smoke was still present in the sky; just merely hiding it was.

Kiku's eyes drooped with exhaustion. Staring at the people passing by was not his favorite activity at all. A burning jealously exploded in his chest, realizing that all those people had somewhere to go. Places to be. People to meet. Appointments to attend to.

And Kiku himself?

A mere college drop out to watch over the newspaper stand while the boss is away. Not cared or worried over. Nothing to do. Nothing to look forward to. Of course, the poverty ridden Kiku had nothing at all. No home, a crappy job, no family…

Well, Kiku mused absentmindedly, some of his family may still be in Japan. Though they likely didn't care about him if he was still trying to make ends meet and no assistance from them; that thought made anger bubbling upside him, threatening to overflow like a volcano.

Kiku was snapped awake from his erratic thoughts by a person tapping his shoulder. He blinked and stood up straight, looking at the impatient man already fishing in his pocket for the appropriate amount of money for his purchase.

"Finally you're paying bloody attention." The messy haired, green eyed blonde grumbled with a cranky tone, dropping a few coins on the table of the stand. Kiku blinked drowsily at the coins, and then looked back to the man.

"…what do you want?" Kiku yawned and stretched slightly. Grunting angrily, the man grabbed the paper roughly from the stand and showed it to Kiku. Kiku gave a small nod approving of the purchase, taking the coins from the table. The man gave one small nod as a fair well, slipping the paper under his arm as he walked briskly away.

Kiku sighed again, pursing his lips. What was he making of his life? A mere newspaper salesman…a boring and worthless job in his mind…

"Kiku!"

Kiku jumped slightly, looking up at his boss. When had he got here? It didn't matter, Kiku realized. Just be nice to the man who pays you. He forced a smile, greeting the taller male.

"Yes Mr. Juan?"

Grunting, the heavyset, tanned male glared down at his employee, the cigar he was smoking making a smoke cloud around them. Obviously he was not in a good mood, evident by the stress lines marring his face.

"How many times have you fallen asleep on the job?" Juan narrowed his eyes at the smaller boy. Even the other conversations going on around them thanks to the busy city did not do anything to help for a distraction for Kiku to get some pressure off that he was currently experiencing. "Or completely deep in thought and completely oblivious to everything around you?"

Kiku could not hide the flinch this time, looking up at Juan with slight fear present. "…I am sorry Mr. Juan. I will pay attention ne—"

"There won't be a next time." Juan grunted and crossed his arms across his chest, continuing to inhale the smoke from the cigar deeply, as if it were his lifeline. "I'm letting you go Kiku."

"…you're…firing me?" Kiku sputtered out as if it were a foreign object, desperate to get rid of such a taste that was present on his tongue.

Juan merely grunted at the young male. "There are people who will actually do their job instead of doing whatever the hell you do!"

"I need this job though! I n- need the money!"

"You can get another job." Juan narrowed his eyes, nudging Kiku away. "Go on, get."

Kiku blinked in complete surprise, feeling incredibly crushed and disappointed. Aware of the horrible economy engulfing the country, he knew how terribly difficult it would be to find a new job, and he was now desperate to keep this one, even though he wouldn't rather have this job. The factor of money was always a major thing.

"Please! You cannot fire me! I'll do better! I will!" Kiku begged, completely humiliated with himself to go down to the level of begging. How embarrassing, he thought.

"Get out! You're not getting this job back!" Juan growled, narrowing his eyes at the smaller male. Kiku could not help but flinch at the threatening male, beginning to back away.

"…yes Juan…" Kiku murmured quietly. "…I understand…" he slowly began to walk away from the newspaper stand, being bumped and jostled around by the civilians of the city. He glared at his former boss with a surprising hatred, turning away and slowly beginning to fight the crowds, desperate to walk off his anger. The sun reflected on the metal of the prosthetic on his right leg, making people pause and stare at him.

Staring was such a horrible habit, was it not?