Train sighed, feeling a presence enter the atmosphere, interrupting his peaceful milk-drinking-roof-sitting self. And to be blunt, he knew who it was. Who was it, you ask? Why, she was nineteen. Check. She had short, dark brown hair and bright, blue eyes. Check. Oh, and she had that weird yukata. Check.
She was Saya. Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.
"Hi, Train-kun," she greeted cheerfully, seating herself next to the annoyed assassin.
"Hey, Saya," came his irritated reply.
Saya blinked. Was he still mad about yesterday? That was stupid. Though she had had to admit, she was a bit of an idiot for drinking the rest of the milk he had been so obviously enjoying...but she couldn't help it! It was like he was trying to seduce her with it! Saya shook the thought out of her head. Oh, well.
"Train-kun," she narrowed her eyes.
"What?"
"Why are you being so rude?" she asked, throwing her arms up in exasperation.
Train's right eye twitched as he tried to refrain from insulting her. "That's because I'm annoyed."
Saya's mouth twisted into a pout. "I kind of got that much," she muttered. "But are you still mad from last night?"
Train turned to look at her with a glare that read, "of-course-I-am-you-weird-yukata-wearing-ramune-drinking-gun-wielding-bounty-hunting-girl." Saya frowned.
"Well, you owed me," Saya argued, crossing her arms.
Train raised an eyebrow. "When have you given me anything other than a headache?"
Saya stared at him a second, an offended look crossing her features. "Well I let you listen to my song every night, don't I?"
"Yes, that's true. And it was nice the first time. But you sing the same lines over and over...and it gets boring. Moreover, it gives me a headache, as stated before," Train stated simply in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Train-kun, you big bully..."
Train stared at her, not believing how childish she was acting. He shrugged. It was Saya, after all. Train took a long sip of his milk, finishing it rather quickly. He felt a gaze on himself. Slowly, he turned to face Saya, almost freaked out.
"Train-kun...you..."
He raised an eyebrow.
"You brought milk today, knowing that I wouldn't bring any—to shove it in my face."
Train gave her an exasperated sigh. "Why do you have to be so melodramatic about everything, Saya?" Train asked jokingly.
Saya took this as a challenge. "Oh, and you're not?"
Train smiled smugly. "Of course not. I'm the Black Cat. I'm trained not to be dramatic about anything," he replied, ruffling her hair as if she was an apprentice to him.
"W-well...What about when you—no, wait...uh..."
"I'm waiting." Another smug smile.
"Well, you...um...I give up," she muttered, crossing her arms.
"Haha. I thought so. The Black Cat always wins."
…
The following day, Train's coworkers were shocked to see a large, plump bump on his head. He was greeted by a victorious Saya that night.
Maybe the Black Cat didn't always win.
