Ordinary Life

By: Aviantei

Chapter Nine

Ruma handled it when Whiskey ignored her and Mocha both when getting back to the dorm that night. Ruma handled it when Whiskey sulked for the next few days, studying by herself and blaring anime music loud enough to be heard from across the room with her headphones still on. Ruma even handled it when Rin and one of their other idiot classmates almost got attacked by Reapers in gym class and Whiskey didn't so much as try to stop them, too busy counting stitches in the hem of her tracksuit's sleeve. Hell, Ruma handled it well enough when Whiskey spent Saturday night staring at her laptop watching some show all the way until the next morning.

But when Monday hit and Whiskey had been an antisocial bitch for a whole week, Ruma still handled it. She just handled it in a different way.

"Nope," Ruma said after cram school that evening, sitting down in Whiskey's desk chair. The calendar had shifted to May, but the dorms were kept crisp with air conditioning. Whiskey glared down at her friend and tried to step around her. Ruma snatched the other girl's arm. Mocha stopped changing out of her uniform and gave them a worried glance. "I said nope, Whiskey. You're being a whiny brat, and this is stopping now."

"I didn't ask for your opinion." Whiskey snatched her hand back without even using her full strength, but Ruma stood up. Mocha was the undisputed shortest of them, but Ruma still had a good few centimeters on Whiskey. "Oh, trying to intimidate me again? I thought we'd gone past that stage."

Not even a year earlier, Ruma would have thrown the punch without thinking. In that same time frame, Whiskey might have taken it, too scared to overpower her normal classmate in a tussle. But a lot had changed, from Ruma (trying, she admitted) to think things through, and Whiskey knowing just how to stop any incoming bullying.

Ruma still clenched her fist a few times, to release the pressure building inside of her. Mocha took a step closer, so she could mediate if necessary, but not enough to set Whiskey off. "I'm telling you you're being a brat, because it's the truth," Ruma continued, shoulders set square. "And I'm going to get you to knock it off, not because I wanna force you, but because you're my friend, and that's what friends do, last I checked. Not blow people off just because they're jealous."

"It's not—" Whiskey sucked in a breath and cast her eyes to the ground. Ruma knew Whiskey didn't fear her anymore; it was an acknowledgement that she was being a stubborn little shit. Which Ruma knew because she was a stubborn little shit. "It's not…just because I'm jealous."

"Good, you can admit part of the problem. Now let's go blow off some steam downtown and you can tell me the rest." Ruma stepped towards the door, turning back when Whiskey didn't follow. "This isn't an option, ya hear me? I'll drag you if I have to, but I'd rather not."

"Whiskey-chan," Mocha said, grasping at the uniform skirt folded up in her hands, "go ahead and relax a bit, please? I forgive you, but this is…"

Whiskey dropped her bag onto her desk but didn't sit down. "Yeah, I get it," she relented. "Sorry, Mocha-chan." Mocha gave a small smile, not even at half her usual capacity. "I'll buy you some ice cream next time we go out, okay?"

"What the hell? I don't get ice cream?"

Whiskey turned to Ruma, waving her wallet in the air. "No, 'cause I'm sure whatever you were planning on making me doing will exceed that cost by a wide margin."

Ruma smirked and tossed Mocha a farewell wave. "Well, I wasn't sure what we were doing yet," the redhead drawled, "but since you made the offer, I'll be sure to make it extra expensive."

Considering she had never wanted to come there in the first place, Ruma loved the way True Cross Academy Town was at night. It wasn't just the look of the place, all sorts of neon lights and retro looking stores lining the shopping districts, but also the way street performers played and sales people called out advertising for their wares, all blending into a melody with the general hubbub of life. The aromas of every snack from dango to takoyaki wafted up towards the dim sky, ushering saliva into Ruma's mouth.

Even when it's not a place to easily hide in, it's still the best.

Ruma grinned a bit, and Whiskey shot her friend a deadpan look. "Do you even know where you're taking me yet?" Whiskey grumbled. She hated aimless wandering, because it was so unstructured. The girl needed to realize that being normal didn't mean being an automaton.

"Not a clue!" Ruma said, sending Whiskey back to her sulking. Both girls casted glances over the crowd, though for different reasons. Ruma took in the lay of the land out of instinct; Whiskey just looked unnerved. Even if she wasn't talking much, it was an improvement over her dead silence the past week. Ruma tweaked Whiskey's nose while she was distracted, earning a recoil before the glare struck. "You're way too jumpy."

Whiskey pushed Ruma's hand away before it could make another grab at her face. "You're invading my personal space," she countered.

"Mocha-chan invades your personal space all the time." Whiskey stuck out her tongue, but didn't laugh. While the situation could have required patience and a careful buildup, Ruma was not the type for either of those things. She hadn't quite picked out an exorcist meister yet, but being able to hit things was a must. Physical output would do them both good. Ruma changed course in the crowd, drawing them away from the bouquet of an early dinner and to a less used street.

Less used being a relative term. It may have looked like a wacky fantasy city, but True Cross Academy Town had quite a robust population beyond just its students. Hell, after getting the feel of the place and meeting the Headmaster, Ruma wouldn't have minded staying a while herself. Even so, more people were focused on their mealtime then extra activity, so it made reaching their destination all the easier.

"Batting cages," Whiskey deadpanned, forking over a twenty-thousand yen bill to the cashier anyway and accepting her change in turn. She may have been trying to act like she wanted to be by herself, but Ruma knew Whiskey wouldn't leave. Self-satisfied or not, everyone needed social interaction in some form. "You know we have batting cages in the Cram School exercise areas, right?"

Ruma bounced on her heels as she weighed a bat across her palm. The weight distribution felt a bit heavy for her tastes, but would do well for someone with greater strength. "Yeah, but you're pissed off at cram school," she said, passing the bat off to Whiskey and testing out a few others. Finding an aluminum number that almost melded to her palm, Ruma took her pick of the all empty cages. Whiskey stepped into an adjacent one, eyes still tracing her friend's movements. "So you and me are gonna let of our frustrations on these poor little baseballs, and you can scream and whine all you want. So long as you talk to me."

Whiskey had always been very reserved when it came to intentional displays of anger. Sure, her temper pulled her around five ways to Sunday, and her outbursts could even stop Ruma in her tracks if the volume was turned up loud enough. But Whiskey had always retreated herself when she realized she was getting angry, which was just as much of a problem as letting it explode unchecked.

Not that she'll go for it right away, anyways, Ruma mused, and then flicked on the cage controls next to her. While she had a mean swing, most of the time it wasn't aimed at such a precise target, so she kept the opening pace slow. The first ball fired, Ruma swung, but the bat nicked the ball, whiffing it off at an unimpressive angle. In the cage next to her, a loud crack echoed through the otherwise silent batting cages, the ball rattling the fencing at the back of the range. Fucking precise little shit.

Ruma's bat connected with the next ball—it didn't go in the direction she wanted it, but it still hit the fence with a fresh rattle. Whiskey flubbed her next swing, which improved Ruma's mood. While she had been planning on helping out her friend, her own frustrations thrummed through her chest to her fingertips, swinging the bat with force that could break an arm.

Heh, I'd like to see a demon get a load of this!

"What's got you so worked up?" Whiskey said between breaths. She had turned up the speed setting just a little bit, and was coming up half-and-half on her accuracy. None her swings caused another home run. "Look, if I pissed you off that bad, you could've said something sooner."

Ruma laughed mid swing—another decent straight shot. No good in a game, but no one said she was practicing for baseball. "You really haven't been paying attention to anyone at all, have you?"

She couldn't look away to check Whiskey's face, but three balls were hit before the half-demon's answer: crack, crack, crack, "I guess I haven't."

"Figures," Ruma scoffed, taking a swing. The ball changed course, but ended up grazing her knuckles. Not the worst she'd ever had. "You know? Rin and Suguro Ryuji getting into their fight? They've been arguing ever since. Mocha-chan thinks it's great fun, but it makes me wanna kick both their asses."

Whiskey spluttered out laugher, cut off by a curse as the next ball crashed into the cage behind her. Ruma took the cue to make sure her next hit connected, and got a great aerial arc for her efforts. "Well, I did kinda notice," Whiskey said in an effort to salvage her observational skills, "but I wasn't gonna get into it. Rin-kun can argue with whoever he wants…"

The next ball whizzed past her, too, but the bat stayed still, the top of it resting on the ground. Ruma did herself a favor and switched off her own pitching machine for a minute, crossing her arms to glare at her friend. "But he can't even get an explanation out of you for why you're ignoring him?" Whiskey grit her teeth, taking a sloppy swing at the next ball and missing. Each twitch of muscle carried exasperation. "You've been his friend for a week, then ditched him for the same amount of time right after. How do you think he feels?"

"I know!" Whiskey tossed her own bat clanging to the ground. The next baseball whizzed past, and she snarled at it. "I got pissed off 'cause he found a new friend, then Yukio-kun was a major dick, tossing out insults about Vati, and I just—aagh!" Coal tar gathered around Whiskey as she shouted to the empty batting range, but she didn't absorb them like normal. Instead, she took ragged breaths and stared at the ground. "I was tired with emptying my Submission, but that doesn't make it okay, I know. Jesus."

Whiskey put a hand to her forehead and started muttering. Ruma watched a moment, making sure the big explosion had passed, then turned her pitching machine back on, increasing the frequency. Two balls fired from Whiskey's without interference.

"Jerk-sensei started talking shit about your dad?" Ruma asked, getting back into batting. There was something soothing about the force you could put into striking a baseball, from the routine movements. If Ruma hadn't been so busy with cram school, she could've had a decent run in the baseball club. Whiskey said something too quiet to hear through the impact of aluminum and ball, but Ruma could guess the answer. "Want me to be a trouble maker for out next Demon Pharmaceuticals lesson? You know what I'm capable of."

Whiskey was her friend, and friends stuck up for each other, even when one of them had been a stupid bitch. That's what being friends was about. And even beyond that, Ruma was fond of Mephisto, even though Whiskey grimaced whenever the topic got brought up. Letting insults to the Headmaster's character wouldn't slide with Ruma, even if the perpetrator was a teacher.

"Thank you, but no," Whiskey said, tapping her own bat against her open palm. It would've been intimidating if it weren't for the sad look on her face. "I said some dumb stuff, too, so I'll sort it out. Later. I'm more worried about Rin-kun…"

Whiskey understood what she had done, so there was no need for Ruma to harp on it. Whiskey waited until the latest pitch came from her machine, then got back into position after the ball cleared. Ruma was stuck in a string of foul balls, white orbs glowing in the old-school incandescent lights. "You should hang out with him," she suggested. "I mean, sure, apologize first, but hang out with him. Show him you do want to be his friend, and you're not just saying it. Maybe even talk to Moriyama, too. She's a bit ditzy, but not a bad person."

"Right." Whiskey sucked in a breath, making another dead-on hit. The ball didn't reach as high as her first one, but it still crashed into the back of the cage with great force. "I'll at least start with Rin-kun tomorrow. We'll see what needs to happen from there."

Ruma nailed her next swing, bringing her string of foul balls to an end. She pumped her fist before getting ready for the next one. "You gonna try to make up with Jerk-sensei, too?" She spared a quick glance to Whiskey at the question. The half-demon's face was set.

"I'm not ready for that yet," she admitted. Ruma shrugged. No sense in pushing limits. Mocha might be disappointed, but she could understand the best out of all of them. The important point was that the main matter of Rin was settled; the other Okumura twin could wait forever for all Ruma was concerned. It was bad enough having Whiskey as a near OCD friend—another straight and narrow guy would screw up the group dynamic beyond belief.

"Was it bad?" Ruma ventured, then realizing her wording was vague. Whiskey didn't seem to want to talk about that conversation yet, so that could wait, too. "The thing with your powers, I mean."

Whiskey hit her next few balls, taking the time to think over her words. "I overdid it a bit," she admitted. On purpose, Ruma understood. The redhead pursed her lips. "It kinda screwed me up a bit, but they're all gone, so…" Whiskey took another hard swing that looked like it would have dislocated a less sturdy girl's shoulders. "I still feel uneasy, though. I don't know why. It's not fair."

Ruma thought about it. There hadn't been any distress lying in wait under the streets. True Cross Academy Town had always carried the influence of demons, and the people who lived there had long adjusted, even if they couldn't see. But Ruma felt it, too, the slight density in the air that didn't come from impending humidity.

"Yeah, I feel it, too." Even controlled and even swings couldn't contain her unease. In Ruma's experience, that meant something big was coming. "I can't tell what it is, though. Is it demonic?"

Whiskey's eyes shut for a minute. Ruma didn't have even a quarter of the half-demon's natural awareness of the supernatural, but she could still feel Whiskey's aura stretch out and pass through her. Unlike other powerful demons' searching, Ruma felt at ease in Whiskey's presence. Nothing like the jittering fear that would come from an enemy. "Yes, but it's hidden well." Ruma kicked the ground. Any opponent that could hide their presence was guaranteed trouble. "It's also not here anymore. Like whatever it was came and soaked the place in its energy before slipping off."

Marking its territory, then, Ruma thought, but didn't say. Whiskey had enough to worry about. No, this place is the Headmaster's territory, and he's strong. No one would be stupid enough to call this place theirs with him here. So it's a mark to attack? But, again, who would be strong or powerful enough to even think of something like that?

In Ruma's limited two-month experience with a temptaint, she had only encountered one demon that had ever gone so far to try such a thing. And Whiskey had fought him off—but she didn't kill him. Ruma understood grudge matches better than most professional fighters. Coming back to challenge Whiskey in revenge wouldn't be so out of place. Please, don't let it be that. For Whiskey, for Mocha-chan.

Ruma swallowed, knowing that not being able to admit fear meant you couldn't conquer it. For me, too, please.

"Sorry," Whiskey said, breaking Ruma from her thoughts. Whiskey kept up her swings, but still casted tea green colored concern to the cage beside her. "This was supposed to make me feel better, not freak you out." She hit an unimpressive ground ball. "You were right, I just needed to talk it out. Thanks for putting up with my stubborn ass."

Ruma scooped up one of the balls that had rolled back near her sneaker and pitched it towards Whiskey; it hit the fence between. "Damn straight I was right," Ruma crowed. She reveled in Whiskey's startled expression. "Look, I know you've never had many friends, so you get territorial over them." The blush confirmed that. "But I'll bet Rin's just as happy to have you as he is to have Shiemi around, because he's never had many friends. So just enjoy the time you can get with him and stop being such a nitwit."

Whiskey thought for a moment, then took a mock swing that had to be visualizing knocking off Ruma's head. The redhead grinned and returned the favor, until they both let loose their laughter into the night.

[Author's Notes]

This week, we finally sort ourselves into another OC's head. Ruma does not take shit from anyone, even her friends. Then again, Whiskey is acting pretty stupid. I'm trying to capture that strange balance where I show off my characters' flaws while still making them likeable. You guys can let me know if it worked. If nothing else, it's easier than trying to write in-character Mephisto...

Thanks to Bellagunn for the follow! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and whatever comes nest.

I decided to skip over the events of Rin vs. Bon since it didn't seem too important for the progression of Whiskey's plot. No sense in turning this to another "insert a character into canon events and see what happens" story.

Chapter nine is the last update I have in my queue, so we'll be headed on hiatus again for a bit (well, for this story. More updates for other things are in the works). I've finished up my ROTG fic, Strength, so the start to the last of those chapters will be what goes up next week!

I'll be sure to work on some more chapters of this fic as well. You can keep an eye on my writer news over on good old Twitter as Plot_K_Bunny, so feel free to join me there. If not, I'll see you when chapter ten arrives.

Next update will likely be some extra events before delving into the Exwire training camp during Golden Week. Please look forward to it!

-Avi

[08.25.2018]