Minamino.
"You insensitive dick!"
I dodged the satchel that was flying towards my face. I found Hojo running up to me and putting her hair into a tight ponytail as she crossed the small neighborhood street. The cigarette smoke exiting from her nostrils only emphasized her anger.
Over the weekend, I spent time helping my mother adjust back home. The doctors said it was a miracle how someone with a heart in her condition could survive. She made a quick recovery over the period of a few hours after being in critical condition. They insisted on keeping her for close watch, to see if she would relapse. Since I knew the mirror fulfilled my wish, I just had to find a time alone with the doctor to slip some powder under his nose.
With transferring some of my youki into the plant's powder, I was able to erase and recreate some memories. I convinced him my mother's condition wasn't at the fatal stage. Having such conviction that he knew her condition wasn't fatal, there was no need to look at the chart I then discarded.
With that, they discharged her. And all the while, I completely forgot about the girl and how I endangered her younger brother.
But, bright and early two days later, she didn't forget. Perhaps I figured we settled everything since she didn't act out afterwards. But I was wrong as she had obviously just suppressed her anger and let it bottle up over the weekend.
"Where is your fucking brain?"
Fists flew my way, and though it was easy to dodge her attacks, it was troublesome. I had to find a way to hold her off without harming or touching her.
"Seriously, what's wrong with you?"
We were in the street of a residential neighborhood, and at this rate we'd both be late for class. But her anger took me by surprise as her face was more flushed than usual. From this angle, it stood out in contrast to the clear blue sky.
She'd been harboring that anger all weekend. The only other release of her emotions besides physical actions was crying.
"You think you can just do anything you want and it doesn't affect anyone else?!"
Instead of aiming for my face, her fist went lower, heading for my groin. Jerking my body to the side, I avoided her but she kept on full throttle.
"Do you know how much his bills cost?! We were already struggling with just my fucking problems! Now we have medical bills to pay!"
At this point she wasn't aiming her punches, she was blindly swinging.
"And then your mom!" Her screaming was almost incomprehensible at this point. "You were going to leave her alone! Do you even know what we talked about?"
I didn't know how much longer she would be able to keep up this screaming without tearing her throat.
"About you! She talked about you! You're her fucking life and you were going to off yourself and leave her alone to rot!"
As she swung an open palm at my cheek, I realized there currently wasn't another way to calm her. I grabbed a hold of her wrist just inches before it connected.
Her breathing hitched as she coughed, having wrung her throat raw, and I figured she would stop. But, just seconds later, she proved me wrong again.
"Let me go!" Her screech could have broken my ear drums. "Stop touching me!"
"Not until you stop swinging." But my reply only prompted kicks as I grabbed onto her other wrist she swung at me.
Touching her only escalated the problem, and though it was still easy to move out of the way of her attacks, it was still a hassle.
"Stop touching me!"
Our shoes scuffled against the concrete as I moved her onto the stone wall against the sidewalk to steady her.
"Stop swinging." Tears streaming down her bare face only caused my demand to seem harsher than intended.
And she curled up, yanking her hands away from me. I let go as she pressed her back against the wall, sliding down to the ground.
"I told you before, it wasn't my intention to have your brother become a victim." She shook her head at my words, face towards the ground.
"Just because it wasn't your intention doesn't mean it's not your fault," she inhaled, sniffling, as she stared up to me.
She hadn't worn any make-up today, which was a surprise.
"I get it, I do," she hiccupped, voice coarse. "You just wanted to help your mom. But you didn't fucking think!"
And my incipient feelings of irritation wavered as she continued.
"You didn't think of what that would do? Giving an item like that to someone who was notorious for eating kids souls? Really?"
Tongue in cheek, I watched her wipe her eyes.
"Now they're keeping him in the hospital to check on him." Her lashes became thick and wet, clogging the view of her eyes as she cried up to me. "The bills just keep piling up! Why didn't you think?"
This was closer to the reaction I had expected from her on Friday, though the waterworks was much more than I'd anticipated. Though, truth be told, I owed it to her to endure this.
I turned my back to the wall and sat down next to her as she hugged her knees to her chest, burying her face as she tried clearing her throat.
"I don't want to have to drop out…" Her muffled cry caused me to inhale deep, knowing that my response would only have her bite my head off.
"The reason why I asked for company when breaking into the vault was for backup," I said. "It had been over fifteen years since I stole something of that worth."
"That doesn't change the fact that this shitstorm happened," she cried. "You didn't think far enough."
"I felt I didn't need to think far ahead because I wouldn't have been alive to care."
I braced myself, feeling for her actions, but no fists ever came. Instead, there were small, muffled sobs.
"I don't want to have to drop out…"
The only way I could make this up to her would be to go back in time and prevent Gōki from taking Minoru's soul.
"Hojo." From the corner of my eyes, she didn't bother looking up, her body only kept hitching as she cried.
It seemed insignificant compared to the situation, but my hands were tied, as there was nothing else I could do.
"I'm sorry."
"What are we going to do?" She cried, and it took me a moment to realize she wasn't talking about us, but her family. "I don't know what to do…"
Having no answer and knowing anything I said would be inappropriate, I stayed quiet as she lifted her head up and rested it on the stone wall. Then, she swung her balled fist back, slamming it into the wall behind her. The repeated dull thuds against the concrete reminded me of the night I saw her shin, and I realized she did lash out on herself. I set my palm out in her hand's path and let her fist into my palm since her skin would probably have broken on that impact.
Giving up, she retrieved her hands and clasped them together. They shook violently, her knuckles turned white from lack of blood flow.
She scowled to keep herself from crying, pursing her lips together. She sniffed, unclogging the mucus that had lodged itself in her nostrils.
It then occurred to me as I saw the skin of her neck pulsate as she inhaled. It sunk inwards underneath her jaw with each heavy, unsteady breath.
"When is your next weigh in?" I knew it wasn't right to encourage her behavior, but now it was all I could offer.
One less bill to pay would help her, and she knew that better than I did.
Brown eyes, red scleras, and puffy lids looked up to me with curiosity. "Wednesday. Why…?"
She cleared her throat as I continued. "When do you get discharged?"
Her voice was getting clearer with each small cough. "If I can pass this goal weight and the next… I can get out of there in a few weeks."
"I can help you fake your weight those days," I said, running through my mind which plants would be best to mix with a concoction.
"Really? How?" Her voice caught in her throat, breaking. "With plants? It won't make me fat for long, will it?"
"I can make some sort of food or drink." I nodded. I pondered on the best plants that would help. Some would make her bloat with enough water weight to push the scales up after transferring some youki into them. "It should wear off after a few days of consumption."
"Summer break starts next week," she sighed in relief and rested her head on the wall. "I can work longer shifts or get another job, and if the appointments stop then things will get easier…"
I didn't think I should be encouraging her to get out of the counseling appointments, but they obviously hadn't worked so far. They were paying to see no improvement in her health, just ways for her to think around their system.
"Don't back out of this." She wiped her eyes again as she reached for her satchel, that had fallen close by.
"I won't," I reassured her. "It's the least I can do for putting another payment on your family."
"Damn fucking right it is." I ignored her mumble as she leaned over on the ground to reach for her bag.
And as she sat up, I was ready to leave. But before I could stand and tell her when to meet me for the vile, her fingers wrapped onto my sleeve and tugged.
"Sit next to me for a few." It was a demand, not a question.
Though I didn't feel like taking orders, from a weak human girl at that, I decided I owed her this much as well. Because after they released her from the counseling appointments, I wouldn't owe her anything.
I sat next to her as she dug out a bag of make-up from her bag, the same one she used on the train. It was pink, with black polka dots on it, contrasting with her plum manicure.
She fanned her face, hoping her puffy eyelids would relieve themselves. I waited patiently for her to begin her regimen. It was interesting, to be honest, as my mother never needed to apply make up. Other females in class never did their full routine. She was one of the few who took time out of their day to paint on their face.
After using her sleeve to wipe her face dry, she dipped the skin of the tips of her fingers into the small round container. She dabbed it on various parts of her face before smearing it around, blending it into her skin tone.
"What's your make-up routine?" She managed a feeble grin as she pulled out another container and put the first away. She was trying to make me forget about her temper tantrum as she pushed powder on her face. "Those lashes can't be real."
I inhaled sharply at her comment, insinuating I was feminine. I composed myself as she pulled out a mirror and a smaller container with a thinner brush.
"I'm sure you're jealous," I retorted calmly as she scoffed, brushing brown powder into her eyebrows.
"Fucking totally," she snorted out laughter. "Let me teach you how to do your make-up."
"No thank you."
"Look, you use a base first," she grinned, pulling out a, yet again, even smaller container. "For your eyelids."
She dabbed it before running it around her eyelids to her brow-bone, and then dug out a small pallet of colors.
"Now this is your eye shadow." She held it up as if she was on TV selling it. "You could be a… soft, natural color, more pastel. Like a soft brown. See this one? It's brown but has a small hint of pink in it."
Did she not know the name, or was her mind too jumbled now?
"You're not good with colors, are you?"
"Coming from you, with your red hair and cerise uniform." She rolled her eyes as she chose the color she'd just recommended me. "Fucking fashion disaster."
"I'm honored for the local clown to call me that."
"Bite me," she snapped, running the brush above her eyelids and under her brow-bone.
She continued playing with the shades of brown, applying two more shades before pulling out a brown pencil. She smudged it on the outer corners of her eyes, blending it in.
"First period started, by the way," I mentioned to her as she maneuvered a brush around on her eyelids again.
"That fat fuck can suck my asshole for all I care." She began dragging another pencil above her lash- and waterlines, framing her eyes in black.
"You've such a charming way with words."
"Oh my god. You are so unbearable with your obnoxious sarcasm."
"Then I'm assuming I can take my leave."
"Nope." She pulled out a thick, small rod, and untwisted the cap. "You're stuck until I'm done. All I have now is the mascara."
"How long does it take you to paint your face on every day?"
She rolled her eyes at my comment.
"This is sloppy." She used the small wand to point at her eyes, which looked as clean as they often did every day I saw her. "And I haven't even done everything I often do, which usually it takes about a good twenty minutes. When I really paint my face on it turns out fabulous."
"It's felt that long," I sighed.
"It's only been, like, seven." She dragged the wand over her eyelashes a few times before shoving the cap back on and putting everything away. "By the way."
I waited as she situated herself and stood up, and I followed her actions as she patted dust off the back her skirt.
"When I tell you to stop touching me—stop touching me."
"In my defense, you wouldn't stop swinging."
"Okay." She nodded, taking that into account. "But when I say stop—stop."
The girl was willing to put her hands on others, but God forbid anyone touch her.
With forbearance, I obliged. "Fair enough."
She inhaled and then grimaced as she placed her hand on her stomach, and I could hear its upset growls. She looked sick, as if she was about to vomit.
I inched away from her as she leaned onto the wall, not enjoying the thought of vomit on my clothes. But she composed herself with a large, deep breath, and straightened up.
And she bounced back to the girl I saw in class, in the hallways. The bored girl who stuck her nose into everyone's business, even though nobody's rumors or secrets ever seemed to faze her.
Until now.
"Come on, let's get to class." She walked past me, and before following her, I watched her form continue ahead of me.
She was strange.
"I'm not walking by myself this morning." She turned around and placed her hand on her hip. "I didn't hunt your ass down for nothing."
Very strange.
Aiko.
"How'd Keiko take the explanations and all that?" I asked, watching Urameshi walk down the aisle towards me.
The grocery store was homey. They striped the off-white colors on the wall horizontally with an orange-tinted beige. The shelves were faux-wood, holding a light brown to blend in with the surroundings. White tile floor that when mopped down shone bright. Sometimes, if I could catch the tiles just when they dried before someone walked over them, I could see a faint reflection of myself.
On the back wall in the middle of the thick stripe, blocked in white and closer to the ceiling, was the store's name in painted kanji. Bolded in black was: "Mizuho's Foods and Company."
"I never got to explain anything." He cocked his head back with a grumble, and I turned to see him walking towards me, company name above him in the distance.
"So, what? Why are you here when you could be explaining things to her?"
Urameshi left Keiko in the dark about this whole supernatural subject. After what Urameshi had just told me about her meeting with Botan about a half hour ago, he should have been hunting her down instead of goofing off with me.
"Because I'm supposed to be writing a book report."
"Supposed to be."
"Yup."
"Not happening, I guess," I sighed, shoving another can on the shelf. "Don't you even want to graduate junior high? Come on, that's like the least you need for Japan."
"Don't care. This is probably the most boring job I've seen." Urameshi changed the subject and walked up behind me as I restocked the shelf in front of me.
My stomach churned, having eaten a large breakfast today since my mother stayed home later than normal, and then lunch too. Her presence forced me to shove down a whopping six hundred calories in one sitting. Plus the lunch? It wasn't sitting well with me at all today. Add on that little scuffle I created with Minamino earlier on the way to school and it was no wonder I had an upset stomach.
"I've seen worse." I had to stop myself from vomiting all over the floor as I grabbed another can of soup from the cart next to me. "Like being a librarian. That's gotta be boring... rearranging textbooks all day. Besides, doing something like this is what you'll be doing all day everyday if you don't graduate from junior high."
"Shut up, you're in high school and you're working here." He leaned on the shelf next to me as I decided to take a minute break. After my skeptical look he changed the subject. "Besides, being a librarian must be boring. Unless they have porn mags."
"They can't have porn mags at a public library." I turned around and mimicked him, leaning on the shelf.
"Exactly why it's boring."
"God, you are such the charmer. A knight in shining armor. Keiko is, like, the luckiest girl alive to have you."
His sly grin appeared as he nudged me with his elbow, and I shoved him, forcing him to hold on the shelf for dear life.
"So how's the search for the last artifact?" I watched as he steadied himself.
"No dice, I got three days left before the King of Reikai shows up and finds out someone stole them."
"What happens if he—"
A loud, tuned whistle sounded behind me. It was the kind of whistle trainers used to command dogs, or, more likely for me, the kind of whistle that my boss used to order me around.
"Hey, Stray Cat." My alpha-male, god complex boss made his way to me down the aisle, addressing me by my cashier number. "Number oh-two-oh-two-three."
Oh god, here we go. I could feel my eyes rolling into the back of my head as my back and shoulders slumped over dramatically.
"What now," I groaned a rhetorical question I didn't want answered, feeling my stomach churn from knowing what was to come.
His incessant rant began with melodramatic, pseudo-interest in his words. Some syllables with emphasized dramatics as he approached us. He craded his clipboard against his chest and a forced grin.
"Congratulations on the wedding, you two. I'm so, so, so, so upset you didn't invite me to the ceremony but I guess I'll just have to make due." My eyes were going to get stuck in the back of my head. "But, Aiko, answer me this. Do I pay you by the hour to stand around by the canned soup to talk to your doll faced wife here?"
"Well, for the past twenty minutes, uh, yeah. You pretty much did."
"What'd this greasy haired jerk call me?" Urameshi straightened his posture to become domineering but I put the back of my hand on his chest and side glanced up to him.
"Don't worry; he just likes to hear himself talk."
And my boss whistled again, bringing both our eyes back to him.
Typical pose: arms across his chest with the clipboard tucked up against it, back straightened, eager smile to tear me a new one.
"So instead of talking about your girl's wedding day, and what lovely doilies you had on the guests tables—and please, for the love of god, don't talk about what band you had play because I will be just so, so, so crushed—I suggest you get back to work and do what I pay you to—"
"Move canned soup onto a shelf."
"In the past five minutes you've been ranting to her, you could've just told her to get back to work and spared us this entire macho act," Urameshi snorted.
"Then he wouldn't be able to hear his beautiful voice, Urameshi."
"Precisely." His grin was so proud, as few people fed into his games. "Now, quit canoodling, you two. Do you need me to spell it out for you?"
My boss's hands gestured the clipboard back and forth between him and I, and then from me to the shelves.
I slopped my tongue out, slurring my word to play brain dead. "Nuh-uh I got it."
"And don't even think for a second that I don't watch you swipe a pack of cigarettes and other items in the store. You may have your little entitlement complex going on but you know damn sure and well that I better not catch you swiping any meat or we will have such, such, such a problem."
I kept my tongue slopped out. "If you didn't want me to take anything you should have said something."
"Is that a threat?" Urameshi and his macho act.
It was two macho men feeding off each other's macho-ness, inflating their macho egos.
Say "macho" again, Aiko.
Macho.
"What're you gonna do about it there, tough guy?" My boss's proud, amused smile never left his face.
Someone feeding into his games excited him, he was almost begging Urameshi to lay out the first blow. What my boss would have done in retaliation if Urameshi actually laid into him, I wasn't sure. Nobody ever got this far.
"I'm going to pound your face into the ground." And my boss's only response was an excited wink before pushing his eyes up towards the shelf I had been stocking.
His eyes scanned over the cans while Urameshi continued. "You can't just talk to us like that and get away with it."
There was a moment of silence that lasted a few seconds as Urameshi's tension rose while my boss mentally noted the inventory. Finally, he feigned surprise as he looked over to us, as if we hadn't been standing in front of him for the past few minutes.
"I care so little about whatever it was you just said," my boss faked a chuckle and began walking past us down the aisle, singing. "Sooooo little, so little, so little, so little. ~"
He waved the clipboard around in the air as he sang, rounding the corner.
"That your coworker?" Urameshi sulked after him. "What time's he off? I'll wait out back and kick his ass."
"That's my boss." I retrieved my tongue and stayed put, determined to ignore his orders. "You'd think with his egotistical god complex he would have a better job than being a manager at a grocery store."
"And you haven't punched him yet?" Urameshi leaned against the shelf with me again.
"Nope, not worth it. Besides, it doesn't bother me as much as it's just annoying. Sometimes it's funny when he lays into someone else."
"And he's always like that?"
I nodded, wanting to change the subject and not talk about my manager. "Yup."
"One more question." He shoved his hands in his pockets, face incredulous with raised eyebrows. "Stray cat?"
"Mmm!" I wagged my index finger in the air, and the cleared my throat to prepare.
Urameshi waited, wondering what I could do. And as I opened my mouth, I played with the vocal cords in my throat to mimic the meow of a cat.
He stared at me in disbelief for a few seconds before laughing.
"Yeah, pretty useless." His laughter almost drowned out my explanation. "I don't think the cats understand me or anything but they're curious when I meow at them."
"So…" He continued laughing, bending over to hold his sides. "He heard you?"
"Yeah, parents packed me lunch one day and I didn't want to eat it. Went out back on my break and attracted a stray cat over so I could feed it, and he caught me meowing."
Urameshi nodded his head, calming down from his laughter, getting the rest of his chuckles out.
"So what happens if the king shows up and finds his items gone?" I asked to stop his laughter, and reality sunk back into him as a mischievous grin grew.
"He punishes the Prince, who, by the way, is a toddler!" He snorted at mentioning the last part.
"Quit pulling my dick. No way in hell is a toddler going to give eternal sentencing to souls."
"No, I swear it. This is too good to make up."
I was still convinced this whole thing was the prank of the century. "That explains why you're doing his dirty work then."
And, on cue, an alarm on his watch went off, the same obnoxious beeping that came from Urameshi's watch on his wrist.
"A demon! Around here, within five kilometers!" He stared at the watch before sprinting down the aisle, but I was able to pause him for just a moment. *
"Urameshi!" My hand tightened its grip around the last canned soup.
He turned back quickly before rounding the corner.
"If you die, I'm not stopping the cremation. So come back alive."
He chucked up the deuces with a wide grin, and rounded the corner. He didn't think I was serious.
I'd show him how serious I was by arranging the date of his cremation when he turned up dead, that's for sure.
And though I was curious to take off after them, I still needed a fat paycheck, so I continued to stock the shelf. The only thing that made this task dreadful was how disgusting it was to see the food in front of me.
I'd held back vomit from crawling up my throat twice now, and I felt queasy and weak.
Oh god, this was why I hated working in a grocery store. Garbage that was for some odd reason necessary to survive surrounded me.
Why couldn't I be a robot or something? Something that didn't need to eat this stuff to survive.
Ugh.
I glanced down at the last canned soup in my hand to see what flavor it was, and noticed the chunky, grey-ish picture of soup on the label.
Oh god, that looks like vomit, I noted while my stomach gurgled and began pushing food up my throat.
Don't hurl in the aisle, Aiko, don't—
I leaned over, retching up my lunch into the middle of the aisle, and steadied myself before handling the cart as the second wave came up.
Spitting the mushy, yellow residue out of my mouth, I shoved the last can on the shelf. Pushing the cart with me, using it to steady myself as I became dizzy, I began my quick quest towards the back storage room to hide. As I approached the large swinging doors, I grabbed the walkie from my apron and pressed the communication button.
My voice echoed in the loud speakers above throughout the store. "Clean up in aisle three."
Like hell I was cleaning that up.
A/N:
* 5 km is roughly 3 miles.