After about two months of watching the boy pass by with yet another injury, Anju, decided she had to at least do something for him. One day, she set aside a bottle of milk in the fridge she used to keep her lunch cool and waited at the storefront. When he appeared , she called out to him.
"Excuse me."
The boy stopped and turned in her direction, wearing that sour expression he often had. His left arm was in a sling. His right foot sported a bandage that reached halfway up his shin.
"Are you all right? I've been seeing you around lately, and you're always injured. Is there anything I can do for you?"
The brown-haired boy stared at her, then at the ground. "I'm fine," he said in low voice. His tone did nothing to alleviate her worries.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." The boy refused to make eye contact as he spoke.
Anju sighed. "Alright, if you say so. Still, can you wait here for a little bit? You look thirsty, and I'd hate to just let you go home with nothing."
"I don't have any money."
"Don't worry, it's a gift."
"Mom says I shouldn't take things from strangers."
Stubborn kid. Anju pressed on anyways. "Well, how about I introduce myself then? That way, I won't be a stranger."
"..."
"My name is Anju. May I ask you for yours?"
"...Shizuo." The boy still didn't look at her, but the resistance in his voice had disappeared.
"Pleased to meet you, Shizuo-chan. Now, I have some milk in the fridge that you might like. Do you think you could wait here for a second while I go get it for you?"
The boy perked up a bit at the mention of milk and nodded. When Anju returned with the beverage, he practically downed it in one gulp. She chuckled and rubbed her hand in his hair, which seemed to embarrass him a bit as a blush creeped to his cheeks.
"Feel free to come by any time, Shizuo. Your brother too."
The boy nodded shyly, and then ran off.
Anju encountered Ikebukuro's Strongest about two weeks after she opened shop.
She had just finished cleaning the storefront windows and was just about to have lunch. It was a nice day, so she decided to eat at one of the tables she had set outside her store. As she was sitting down, she spotted a young man on the other side of the rather narrow street.
He was a tall, lanky man. His hair was blond (there was something familiar about the way it fell over his eyes, though she couldn't quite place what), and he sported a pair of blue-tinted sunglasses. Most oddly, he was wearing an impeccably tailored bartender's uniform.
"Just don't screw around with guys dressed like bartenders."
The hair on her neck began to prickle a little. The man Anju saw now matched that curmudgeonly mover's description to the letter. While she hardly believed his stories (Vending machines? Really, now...), she had overheard more than a few stories about the violent antics of the God of Destruction in a Bartender Suit, so she felt she had reason to be cautious. Grabbing her bentou, she decided that she would eat inside today.
As she was getting up, she and the man in the bartender's suit made contact. Both of them froze.
The man stared at her. She stared back. After a bit, he took off his sunglasses before continuing their apparent staring contest. Despite the uneasy tension in the air, her fear seemed to alleviate a bit. The man's eyes were gentle, and his expression didn't seem to carry any anger or predatory feelings. If anything, he looked a little... worried?
After what seemed like forever, the man broke eye contact. Shoving the sunglasses back on to his nose, he started to walk again, now at a quickened pace. In less than a minute, he was gone.
Anju blinked. Did I just scare off Ikebukuro's so-called God of Destruction?
