Sawada Tsunayoshi, Immortal Bartender

Sawada Tsunayoshi, age 27, or should I say, 27,000, was both immortal, and a bartender. And everyone knows the job description of a bartender. You mix drinks, chat with customers, and toss out bad people. Nothing to it. But there was something to being a bartender that made you a good or bad one.

It was whether or not you had the skill to lure your customers into a sense of peace, even if it might be false, to calm them down in order to keep them from wrecking your shit, the patience to listen to your customers as they angrily ranted, because it was better if you were the one yelled at instead of their loved ones, and the quality of cleaning and mixing you can do. Hygiene is important and so are your customers, after all, they are the ones paying for your clothes, food, rent, and transportation.

To put it simply, to be a good bartender, you have to listen. You must be like the psychiatrist, listening your client's problems and simultaneously, calming them down. Only you're not just a psychiatrist, you're a psychiatrist who knows how to use alcohol to make people calm their tits and tell you their problems so you can ease them away and smooth them out like an iron on a wrinkled piece of clothing. Mother always did say that no kind gesture has ever gone unrewarded. That, or she was just reading a fortune cookie slip and had tucked it into her purse for future purposes that consisted of motherly advice.

Future advice aside, you, Sawada Tsunayoshi, also happened to be incredibly oblivious at times, and had a habit of accidentally charming all of your customers with your moderately handsome features and high quality drinks. And possibly your soothing voice, but you think that it sounds like nails on a chalkboard along with bats screeching. Puberty may have lowered your voice, but that doesn't mean it can't get squeaky. Once, your mother asked you to dress up as a girl when you were a kid because your voice was squeaky enough to make you pass as a girl even without a dress on. Also because Nana wanted to see what you looked like.

Not to brag or anything, but you made a pretty cute girl back then. Now? You're not sure what you'd look like as a girl. You're unsure if you even want to know. It might damage your carefully built up and almost nonexistent ego. You have dignity too, of course. But with what your boss has been making you do, you're not sure if your dignity is still there. Pride is not in your dictionary. It never existed, and will never be mentioned again, willingly of course.

'Okay, I really need to stop reminiscing. All this nostalgia can go screw itself, I need to get to the bar before the Manager decides to lower my pay because I'm late again.' You thought to yourself, before getting out of the shower. You quickly blow dried your immensely fluffy brown hair, and dried yourself off. Slipping on your bartender uniform, you decided to grab the uniform's over coat(Yes, the uniform had one, your boss insisted on getting one,) and looked at yourself in the mirror.

You looked pretty fucking dapper. Like you were going to a party, not a bar. But wait, you forgot something.

You tuck in your shirt. Now you looked ready to go to a party. Nevermind your hair, you weren't going to an actual party. Then, you'd be flying everywhere and your house would be an absolute mess and everything would be broken.

Grabbing your lunch, you slung your over coat around your waist and tied it, then hopped onto your motorcycle and quickly put your helmet onto your head. Usually, you didn't use your motorcycle to get to work, but you had less than ten minutes, no, FIVE minutes to get to work and you were planning on getting getting your mother a nice little cake for her birthday at the end of the month because mothers were awesome!

Speeding through the streets of Naminori, you dodged cars without much thought, running at least twenty red lights, and going around 70 miles per hour. You drove relentlessly, not seeing the gaping pedestrians and the scowling, yet handsome, police man, who happened to be patrolling the streets and began to run after you.

Finally, you were at the bar, of which was actually named, "The Flames of Liquor" which was, in all honesty, pretty weird to Tsuna. Seriously, the fires of alcohol? Was the founder talking about whiskey? Were they drunk? Wouldn't be surprising, seeing as how it was a bar and all, but seriously, what the hell.

BONK

"Augh!" And then everything went black.

"Tunaaaaaaaa... Tunaaaaaaa... If you don't wake up soon, I'll lower your paycheck... Then, think of all the wonderful cakes going to waste..." I hear a familiar voice say. Springing up, I lurch forward, only to hit my head on something. Something incredibly hard.

An explosion of pain blooms behind my eyelids. I yelp, crying out in pain. "What was that?!"

The familiar voice laughs. Rude. "Pffft, idiot! You hit yourself on the table!" The table?! How did I hit my head on the table?! The only way I would hit my head on the table was if... Oh no, how did this even happen?!

"Don't worry, you didn't get drunk and end up underneath a table, sadly." Sadly?! What is with you?! "You just got handcuffed by a hot officer for speeding in the streets. For some reason, he said he'd be back for you. You think he might wanna fuck you?" Wait what-

"NO WAY. NO. NO. FUCK NO. HELLLLLL NO." I am not getting my virginity taken by A FUCKING POLICE OFFICER THAT KNOCKED ME OUT FOR SPEEDING IN THE STREETS. I AM NOT INTO THAT KIND OF STUFF. MISTER SADIST CAN GO FIND ANOTHER GUY TO BE HIS MASOCHIST, I AM NOT DOING SHIT WITH HIM.

My manager whistles. "That's the first time I've hear you curse so loudly. I didn't know you could yell so loud."

I groan and decide to just leave my head down. I still don't know where I am. "Where am I?" I ask, prying my eyes open. I squint at the darkness. Seriously, where the hell was I? The manager laughs, and I hear something break. It sounded like one of the wine glasses. The expensive ones. I attempt to get up, but hit my head again. I growl in frustration, and then realize where I am.

Pipes run everywhere. I feel something wet drip onto my forehead. I cringe. I cleaned it off and wiped my hand on my pants. I made a mental note of washing my uniform once I got home. The smell of mixed, numerous alcohols wafted into my nose, along with the scent of... THE HELL, WAS THAT-

I scrunched up my face and pulled myself out of under the sink.

Squish.

My face suddenly began a heat source and blood rushed up to my cheeks. I felt my face catch on fire. Manager-san began to laugh even harder, the sound of their body falling to the ground with a thump telling me they were really getting a kick out of this. Luckily, customers hadn't started streaming in yet. Not like it owuld make a difference, anyways. The sound of more glass breaking reached my ears. I cringed, my face still flaming a very likely fire-truck red.

This... was going to be a very, very long day.