A/N: It's been forever since the last update, no? Well, I apologize for that. Most of my time was taken up finishing a costume and studying for a midterms.

Chapter 02- The Maruyama Hotel

Kira sat listening to the old record player playing an unknown woman's gloomy song. Given that he was in a bar in the middle of Rukongai, he didn't understand how the owner of the establishment had come to own this particular record or why he played it even though there weren't many people in the area who could understand the lyrics.

Before transferring to the Third division, Kira had gone on a three year long mission in the world of the living. There, he had wandered the streets in the city known world wide as the city of love. It didn't take him long to learn the language and he had made a promise to himself that he would bring Momo to give her a tour, as a friend or as he had hoped then, as something more.

That was decades ago.

Now, now he was drunk. He couldn't even remember why he was so drunk in the first place. But one thing he knew for sure: if he could still hear himself think, then he obviously hadn't drank enough. He called the barmaid and ordered her to leave the bottle. Ami, or whatever her name was, did as she was asked.

Kira had worked out a system with the bar: before he lost cognition due to the alcohol in his blood, he'd pay a generous amount to cover whatever it is that he would order in the future in his drunken stupor. If it resulted that he'd leave the bar not having met the limit, then Ami would either return the balance on his next visit or he'd use it as credit.

About an hour later, he had finished up the bottle and thrown up on the floor, which got him tossed out of the bar and tasting dirt as he slid across a dirt road.

It was almost dark and his wallet still had a decent amount of cash left in it. Kira walked, or rather trudged, east towards his favorite bar.

Matsumoto was feeling the buzz. Her eyes would shift in one direction and her sight would lag behind, so that when her mind settled on a slumped figure sitting alone at the bar, it had to wait a second or two for her sight to register who the person was.

She wasn't the least bit surprised that it was Kira. Many Shinigami frequented this particular bar. No, what did surprise her was that the blonde was out of his mind beyond belief shitfaced. The way he even struggled to find the shot glass under his nose peaked her interest in how he had come to be that way. The last time Matsumoto had seen him in that state had been years ago after learning of his Captain's defection.

Plus, his uniform was caked with mud, indicating that this wasn't the bar he had started out in.

Matsumoto's reason for being there was to let off some steam after her return from an intense weeklong mission in the world of the living. She had wanted a little down time for herself, but some of the Eleventh Division Shinigami that had been members of her party urged her to come with them for a drink. All they had to say was "Drinks are on me" and she was game.

So, Matsumoto moved over to Kira's location to ask if he was alright.

She tapped his shoulder and received a grunt in response.

"Kira. What's… the matter?" Perhaps she was more than buzzed. Her speech was slowing and before long, she'd be slurring.

Kira gave another grunt, but this one sounded a little on the whine-ish side, as if she were disrupting his drunken brooding time.

Matsumoto tapped him again, perhaps a little more hard. "Why are you…here?"

"Feck off!" Kira garbled as he slapped off Matsumoto's hand and tried to shove her away.

The momentum did not transfer well. Kira dived past Matsumoto and banged his head against one of the barstools on his way down to the floor. It was probably a good thing that his head hit the barstool, otherwise, his head would have split open. Instead, he ended up with a small shard of glass lodged in his chin that was bleeding enough to give the appearance of ketchup.

Matsumoto felt someone brush past her abruptly to pick up Kira by the collar.

"Hey! What's your problem?!" The man, a new recruit, yelled as he pulled his fist back and dealt Kira a blow between the cheekbone and nose. The recruit had obviously done it in an effort to impress her and his colleagues, but she shook her head in disapproval. His friends were more vocal.

"Kawasaki! Are you crazy? That's Lieutenant Kira, you idiot!"

The man's eyes bulged at the floored drunkard who lay comically still. Kawasaki pulled the hand latching onto Kira's collar away and immediately bowed.

"I'm deeply sorry Lieutenant! Please don't report me to Captain Zaraki!"

"He can't understand you, idiot. The man's clearly piss drunk."

Matsumoto shrugged. She wasn't his caretaker. He'd have to fend for himself like any other Shinigami who chose to get drunk by himself. Walking away from the group, she briefly wondered if Kira's current state had anything to do with Momo.

"Whatever guys," Matsumoto called the men over, "More sake for us, no?"

Yoshito Maruyama was bored out of his mind. He checked the wall clock and groaned to find that it was only 3:15 in the morning. His shift ended in five hours. Yoshito huffed.

He was 176 years old for crying out loud! If he wanted to go to a gentlemen's club without telling his father, then it was perfectly acceptable! His friends didn't catch any flak with their parents! Then again, none of his friends had Madoka Maruyama for a mother.

As punishment, Yoshito's mother had sentenced him to three months at the family hotel where she could keep an eye on him. To make matters worse, he was stuck working the graveyard shift for all of those nine weeks as the clerk.

His father had won the large house in a high-stakes card game fifty years ago, so it had been converted as a hotel to service people on their way west towards the fish markets of the west coast. His older sister worked as the cook and his older brother as the janitor. It appeared he was being groomed for a position in the family business.

It was boring work.

So when Yoshito heard the door bell tinkle signaling the arrival of a potential customer, he didn't bother looking up from his magazine. Instead, he licked his index finger to flip the next page. He'd heard his older sister complain about the drunks that came in for a few seconds and then left after realizing that this wasn't wherever it is that they were heading for.

A hand came down on his magazine.

"Eysh. Eysh. Serbiss."

Hey. Hey Service.

Yoshito sighed and pulled the magazine from under the feminine hand.

"Yeah? Whadd'ya want?"

Yoshito's eyebrows raised at the sight of a buxom woman steadying and being steadied by a disheveled blonde man. He immediately noticed their Shinigami uniforms and made a note to add a few additional fees to their total price.

"D'you fellas want a room with a king-size?"

The man giggled. "Naaaaah…."

The woman held up a single finger…in the complete opposite direction of where he was.

"Siggle."

Single.

Where these people being cheap? Or did they think he was stupid? He knew what they were gonna do once they got up there.

"This here ain't a love hotel."

The woman pointed, or rather, jabbed at the blonde's cheek. "Dis here ish Luten Kira. Wur bod fends. No sex."

This here is Ruten Kira. We're both friends. No sex.

Yoshito rolled his eyes.

He was going to charge them the king-size room.

It's not like they'd notice. Even if the woman was actually telling the truth and one of them was dropping off the other, would he or she really remember when they passed the desk and left?

"Okay." Yoshito lied. "A single."

He reached for the key for the most expensive room. Which was an overstatement given the condition of the rest of the hotel.

Yoshito named the price and the blonde reached into his pocket and plunked down enough coins to cover rent for three days.

"Keep de change."

"What, for the third day?" This guy was really shit faced to be giving him that much money. The woman too for not noticing.

Yoshito shrugged and handed the woman the key, as she looked the more stable of the two.

"Oyasumi." Yoshito muttered as he placed the coins in the register. If he showed his mother how much money he had made in one night later in the morning, then perhaps she would show mercy and cut his sentence down to just two months.

Yoshito's yawn was interrupted when he heard a thunk and then a loud laugh. He sighed and figured that one of them has slipped on the way up the stairs.

He placed his magazine on the counter and began flipping the pages, stopping to read the article if it caught his interest.

In no time, the lobby returned to its usual state of calm.

About twenty minutes later, Yoshito was picking his nose when he heard hurried steps coming down the stairs.

"What now?" He almost whined.

"Pssst!"

"Huh? Kioshi? What're you doing up?"

Kioshi, his older brother, was supposed to be asleep.

"Did 'ya give a room to a couple recently?"

"Yeah? They came in not long ago. Why?"

"Well they're screwing like animals! Hurry up! We're taking turns peeking through the keyhole!"

The 176 year old Yoshito Maruyama dashed from behind the desk and took the stairs two at a time to join the 192 year old Kioshi Endo in their peeping tom mission.

A/N: Hoped you liked it! Read and reviews ladies and gentlemen!