(a/n) Every chapter will be a one-shot dedicated to each digidestined.

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[TAXI DRIVER]

miyako

purple haired feminist

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His back ached.

Parking the taxi on the side of the street, the driver stopped the engine.

He raised his arms over his head. After touching the ceiling, he dropped them down and proceeded on to wriggle on his seat. It was a lousy attempt to alleviate the tenseness from his stiff back. Chronic back pain was guaranteed with his occupation; especially when he had been driving through the Tokyo streets for decades.

Alighting from the vehicle, he ducked into the closest convenient store. Once spotting the hot beverages section, he did a quick scan over the drinks before finding his preferred coffee.

"Two hundred yen please," a polite, feminine voice told him.

Hand digging into his back pocket, he took out a bunch of loose coins and placed the precise amount onto the counter. The driver lifted his head and found himself staring longer than he should have.

How could he not when the cashier before him had, well...purple hair?

Her dyed purple hair made her look like a foreigner from a different country. It wasn't the large circular glasses that framed half of her face, the wide toothy grin, nor the neon orange nail polish that had caught his attention - it was her hair.

What was wrong with society these days? Out of all colours the young woman had chosen, why had she picked an unnatural purple? What would her parents think? Was she on drugs? Maybe she had tattoos too? Why had the convenient store hired her when she looked like a yankee who might be affiliated with the mafia?

Questions swirled in his mind as he took his coffee from the counter with a slight bow.

When he returned to the car, the taxi driver unscrewed the cap and took a sip of the coffee. He closed his eyes, savouring the warm liquid that touched his tongue. He had needed the caffeine hit. Because it was a Saturday night, it was more likely that his customers' state of minds would be of the intoxicated manner. The survival drink would help him cope with the upcoming absurdness that laid on ahead.

Knowing that his break was well over, the taxi driver proceeded to start the car.

In the process, he paused when shrill screaming sliced into the silent air.

"You let go of her now, you piece of trash!"

The taxi driver winced at the vulgar choice of words, but did not dare to turn his head around. He recognised it to the sound of the cashier's voice who had served him earlier. He opted to glance at the rearview mirror, invasively witnessing the scene unfolding before him.

The cashier was there, all right.

From the looks of things, she must have finished her shift. She had a backpack slung over her shoulder and wore a jacket that covered her Family Mart uniform. Her hands were on her waist as she faced the couple who gazed at her back, alarmed expressions present on their faces.

"What's your problem, lady?" A man, that appeared in his mid-thirties, retorted.

The man was a head taller than the purple-headed woman. He was using his height to his leverage to admonish the cashier. His arm rested possessively around his girlfriend's lower back, leering down at the cashier who stood before him.

However, the man's intimidation tactic failed to work on the cashier. She had resorted to tilting her chin upwards, openly glaring at the man with fire in her eyes. She was going to have nothing of his nonsense.

She snarled at him, "You heard me right. Get your filthy hands off of her!"

Was she looking for trouble?

"Mind your own business." The man scoffed. "You have no right to meddle with something that doesn't concern you."

As the driver watched, he wished the cashier would turn away from the escalating fight. Why was the cashier being so silly to involve herself in matters that was none of her business?

To the driver's dismay, the man's comment had made her even more enraged. The cashier let out a dry, yet lethal, laugh. She then glanced over at the man's partner who was shooting a pleading look at the purple-haired woman. The man's partner didn't want the cashier to make a scene in public.

"Are you sure?" The cashier studied the other woman. "Your boyfriend is an asshole."

The man scowled lividly at her. "What did you say?"

"I'm just telling her the truth and advising that she's better off dumping filth like you."

The man flexed his biceps. "I don't want to fight you, but I will if you won't leave us alone."

To the taxi driver's surprise, the cashier had pressed her palms onto the man's chest instead of replying. The cashier then took the girlfriend's wrist and wrenched her away from the man's grasp.

"What the fu-"

He never managed to end his sentence because the cashier's fist smashed into his gut. The man was keeling over coughing, wide-eyed and staring at the cashier in a dazed-like state.

The man clutched onto his abdomen and wheezed, "Bitch."

"Why thank you." The cashier flipped her middle finger. "Now get out of my sight before I tell my manager to call the authorities."

"Women with big mouths are bound to land themselves in trouble. I'd be careful if I were you," he warned her.

His words apparently didn't seem to effect the cashier, as she glared unblinkingly back at him. She didn't appear the least bit threatened by the man at all. And, because of her unwavering glaring, the man eventually did cower away.

"Let's go, Yuka."

The girlfriend seemed not too keen to leave with the man, refusing to move from the spot. Consequently, the man met Yuka's gaze and when she shook her head at him, he shrugged.

"Suit yourself," the man spat before turning on his heel and leaving the two women behind.

As he walked away, the girlfriend tried to shake the cashier's hold from her wrist in order to chase after him. The cashier did not let go.

"You shouldn't go after him. He's not worth it." The cashier furiously lectured, pointed a quivering finger at the other woman. "It's enough that he's hitting you in public, what more will he do to you if he isn't the least bit ashamed of it? And don't tell me those bruises on your arms are by accident too! Stop hiding and protecting somebody who doesn't treat you with respect. You should never tolerate somebody hurting you like that. Never."

"But-"

"Honey, you're worth more than that."

Yuka broke down in tears and the cashier gave her a reassuring hug.

The driver sheepishly looked away from the scene, letting out a deep sigh. He had been close to dialling the police in case the fighting had gotten out of control. How he was thankful that the arguing had been brought to an abrupt end.

As he started the engine and was about to slip back onto the road, he heard somebody tapping onto window.

The driver glimpsed purple in the rearview mirror and, instantly, he let out a groan.

Just his luck. His first passenger of the night had the rebellious cashier.

Out of the goodness of his heart, he rolled down the window. "Where to, miss?"

"Roppongi please."

Regretting that he had missed his chance to drive off, the driver sucked in a deep breath. He opened the back door, allowing the cashier to take a seat. Regardless of it all, it was his job to cater to people who were in need of transportation. The taxi eased into the ongoing traffic. The sooner he got rid of her, the better.

She was a delinquent. She couldn't be trusted. If she was willing to challenge a man who was half her size to a brawl, it was possible that she could also do a runner.

The taxi driver hoped she'd pay him. Although she seemed like a yankee, there was still a possibility of her being a good person too. After all, the taxi driver had seen her save the woman from an abusive relationship back there.

Nearing ten minutes into their drive, the taxi driver snuck a peek at the cashier.

The cashier's arms were crossed with one leg folded over the other. Her bottom lip was jutting outwards, and there was an evident scowl on her face. Hips facing towards the window, her eyes blazed out the window as if she willed everything to melt under her gaze.

She may not have uttered a single word, but her body language spoke in volumes.

As the driver was about to look away, her eyes connected with his on the rearview mirror.

"Why are men pigs?!" She finally bursted out. Realising that she, in fact, had been speaking to a man, she clarified, "A select few, I mean."

He replied back, thoughtfully, "Hmm..."

The driver pressed onto the breaks when he saw the red light. He pondered whether she wanted his honest opinion, or whether she merely wanted to get something out of her chest. The taxi driver had gathered that the cashier hadn't seemed like the type of person fancied keeping quiet.

"Has this got to do with the incident from earlier?" he prodded.

"You heard that?" The cashier frowned.

The driver said, "Well, it wasn't hard to miss it. You have a lot of guts to do what you did, young lady."

"Are you saying that I'm wrong?" she rhetorically asked him, tone icy. "Was I meant to just watch it happen and not do anything about it? If I had, I'd be worse than that man!"

"No, I never said that you were wrong," the driver denied. "However, I do think you approached the situation wrong. He could have hurt you."

"He could have." The cashier snorted. "Little does that idiot know that this woman knows a thing or two about kick-boxing. I would have gladly taken him on."

"That's not very lady-like."

"Well, that's not a great way to describe a lady either." The cashier snapped. "That is what's wrong with people these days! Because I'm a female doesn't mean I have to be stereotyped as mentally and physically weak. Men always think that we can be walked on. When I speak my opinion, I get looked down on. They say I'm not passive enough - which is a lot of bullshit if you ask me! I don't want to be like my friends who end their careers to become appointed as the typical full-time housewife. Tell me, sir, how is that fair?"

"I didn't mean-"

She talked over him, "They say that nowadays is better, but I don't see a big change. Men still treat women like dirt and not as equals. They have it in their systems to dominate the world when the only difference is that while we have a set of boobs, they have a set of balls."

"Language!" The driver couldn't take it anymore. "I don't care whether you're female or male. I will not tolerate anybody of your age to crudely yap around like a barbarian – especially when I'm the older one here."

The cashier sighed, noticing that she may have gone overboard with the stranger.

She apologised, "Sorry. My friends do tell me I get overly excited and passionate about things that strike a nerve."

"It's fine, miss," the driver said instantly.

He knew that he had also stepped over the boundary too. The taxi driver had been anything but professional. If his manager heard that he had yelled back at a customer, he would be dismissed on the spot.

Attempting to fill the void of awkwardness, the taxi driver turned on the radio. He noted that the young lady would bop her head to the songs, humming softly, as they threaded through the city.

Upon arrival to the clubbing area district, the taxi driver slowed down. "Did you want me to drop you off here?"

"Why?" The cashier questioned. "It's still five minutes away. We're on the right street though. Keep driving down."

He followed her instructions, driving further down the street. "Sorry about that. I thought you wanted to go to a club..."

The cashier eyed him through the mirror. The driver worried that she would get mad at him for his assumption - since she had been quite fiery all night - but to his surprise, the cashier cracked up laughing.

"With this outfit?" the cashier exclaimed, incredulously. "No way. I'm going to my other part-time job. Besides, if I did go clubbing my parents would have my head tomorrow. They'd hate to see me hungover at church."

"Church?" the driver repeated, arching an eyebrow. He didn't know of anybody who believed in Christianity.

"Yeah. I've been attending mass ever since I was a kid. To be honest, I reckon my whole family would have been separated if it hadn't been for our religion."

"Why?" The driver asked, critically.

He didn't understand the concept of religion. How could there be a deity who was defined as the reason for the world's existence, and influence on particular things and events? It was too extreme for his liking.

"Because it's a habit. We see each other every Sunday. Even when all my siblings and I moved out of home, we're still a family when we go to church. It has always been that way." The cashier gave a wry grin. She blabbered on, "My family is big and we're all stubborn, so we're endlessly quarrelling. Yet, we restart our week and throw back our grudges every time Sunday comes along. I may not be the most religious person out there, but if it works for my family, I'd keep going to mass until the day I die."

The driver nodded, not knowing what to say.

His eyes softened as he gripped the steering wheel. Every second longer he spent with the cashier, he realised how wrong he had been about the young lady. She may have appeared hard on the outside, but she was in actuality warm in the inside.

"I used to get jealous of families with a small number, but now that I'm older...I wouldn't have it any other way." The cashier kept speaking, proudly. "Though, there are times when I wish that I was an only child because then I wouldn't be having to take extra jobs to pay off my tuition—talking about jobs, you can park here!"

The taxi driver swerved in front of a gas station. When he had pulled up the brakes, the cashier zipped up her jacket and placed the gas station's cap over her head, flicking out her ponytail.

"Thanks!" She clapped the money onto the tray, staggering out of the taxi.

He glanced at the coins and realised that she had given him five hundred yen extra.

"You've overpaid me!" The driver yelled after her.

The cashier grinned. "Don't worry about it, sir! You were going to call the police, right?"

"What?"

"Even though you were in the car the whole time, I knew you were keeping an eye out on me back there," she admitted. "I was brave enough to confront that man because I knew you were watching us."

The driver coughed. "I wasn't really."

"Sure...anyway, thanks again!" she said, giving him one last large wave before pivoting on her heels and disappearing into the distance.

He chuckled, driving off.

If there was one thing that taxi driver had learnt that night, it would be that ladies with obscene coloured hair potentially could be nice.

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(a/n) I seriously need to stop writing (new) fanfics. This one came about when I was listening to a song about the artist's father being a taxi driver..and therefore the plot to this story was created. It's quite experimental. Every chapter will be centred on a Digidestined from the driver's outlook. I'm estimating this will be 9 chp story. Just think of it as a series of one-shots.

Anywho, I hope you liked this chapter. Will edit this another time. ;)

Next Chapter: Germ Phobia (Jyou)