**Update: Currently beta-ed thanks to Telemain's Daughter. **

Nabbing a bottle of water from an unsuspecting street vendor, Kyouji tried to rinse the taste of the coffee he had just finished from his mouth. It was useful in waking him up, but the aftertaste left something to be desired.

Water should be free anyway.

He finished the bottle and pulled his sorry excuse for a cell phone out of his pocket; he had a call to make. Kyouji heard four rings before the person on the other side picked up.

"One day in and you're already calling for back-up? Wow, Jadoku. You're slipping."

"Don't be stupid; why would I choose you to back me up, Himitsu?"

"Well, I was gonna say that I'd be the least likely to stab you in the back, but after that comment..."

Kyouji rolled his eyes, tossing the bottle into a trashcan he passed before leaning against a wall just off the street. He didn't want to be too far from the café quite yet.

"So, what did you call for? D'you need more syringes already?"

"No, not yet." Kyouji reached into his pocket to reassure himself that the two syringes were still there. "Besides, you know I can't front you the cash until I finish the job."

People don't carry cash with them the way they used to.

Sustaining himself would be a lot easier if he could depend on a mark having cash on them, rather than worrying about whether or not something they were carrying would be worth anything. Credit cards are worse than useless, as people are so paranoid now-a-days that they could and probably would have all of their cards deactivated within minutes of discovering they no longer had their wallet.

Himitsu laughed over the phone.

"That's right, I remember. Yama won't let you fence anything until you get the kid. Y'know, if you brought me something, I could get it sold; so long as I get some of the profit."

By 'some,' of course he meant upwards of 90%, but Kyouji knew that in a pinch it would be better than nothing.

"I'll keep that in mind, but I actually had a different favor to ask of you." Kyouji paused, considering how much information he wanted to divulge. "Could you forge a couple of reference sheets for me? Just some low key jobs and something that would pass a background check on criminal records."

"Considering you've never seen the inside of an actual prison cell -and no, a holding cell doesn't count- that second part should be easy enough. What are you going to do for payment?"

Here Kyouji hoped past business would pay off.

"I know it's not how you normally operate, but could I pay you post-job just this once?" Kyouji pushed his hair back with his free hand, knowing that refusal would make his half-baked plan far more difficult, if not impossible.

There was a pause on the other side of the line, and Kyouji had just about given up hope when Himitsu finally spoke up.

"I suppose I could, just this once, but the rate will be higher. It's not like you could avoid paying me, even if you wanted to."

Kyouji let his shoulders fall in relief, but Himitsu wasn't finished.

"However, I must insist that you tell me what you're going to use this for. Information is valuable."

He guessed he could divulge some of the information; he would just keep some of the key details to himself.

"So, Yama told me I would find the kid at this one café, but so far I've only seen him there once. His... caretaker, I guess, runs the place with only one other worker. They're clearly swamped."

"I'm not sure I like where this is going..."

"Just hear me out. I need some source of income until this job is done, and I could use another way of figuring out how best to complete it."

"And what makes you think they'll hire you? Isn't that what got you in this mess in the first place?"

Yes, thank you for the reminder.

His father had threatened to kick him out at eighteen if he didn't start bringing home some form of rent. He'd failed to find a job, and betting on bot fights wasn't a stable form of income (especially if you didn't have much to bet in the first place). However, he'd always had the innate skill of going unnoticed, until recently.

"They definitely won't if you don't get me those papers."

"Your choice, man. So long as I get paid in the end. I don't see why you don't just swoop in, grab him, and run. You're quick enough."

"It really doesn't work like that, unless he wanders off on his own. He's got quite the group around him. I'm fairly certain one of the girls could gut me before I made it out the door."

"And you're sure you don't need back-up?"

"Not yet, at least."

"If you say so. Oh! One more thing. I don't guess you want me to put 'Jadoku' in the name category."

Kyouji felt like hitting his head against the wall behind him. He had realized he had introduced himself to a member of their group as 'Kyouji', meaning that whatever forms he gave them had to match.

"Yeah, no, that won't work. Do you have some paper right now?" An affirmative noise was given.

"Put..." He paused, feigning thinking, "Kyouji. K-Y-O-U-J-I. And for the last name Shakuzai, S-H-A-K-U-Z-A-I."

"Got it. Dang. Hope they don't speak Japanese."

Well...

"You sure that's the one you want?"

Kyouji nearly laughed. If only he knew.

"Yeah. That's it."

"Alright, I'll get started."

"Sounds good. Bye."

"Ja ne."

Kyouji ended the call and put his phone back into his pocket, deciding that he was done until he had those papers. Rejoining the flow of pedestrians, he noticed a couple of men carrying what had to be the ugliest couch in existence out of the back of a delivery van. He skirted around them, looking back as he started to cross the street.

Who would even buy that?

Kyouji caught movement in the corner of his eye, realizing he was in the street, and stumbled back as the sound of screeching brakes filled his ears.

The collision wasn't nearly as painful as he had expected, even with his natural defense, but it was enough to knock him off his feet. He landed roughly on his left arm, skidding on the asphalt so that his sleeve was pushed up and his skin was torn from his wrist to his elbow.

Momentarily dazed, Kyouji unsteadily pushed himself up to a sitting position with a groan and was quick to pull his sleeve down to cover the green scales that were beginning to scab over the wound. His heart was hammering from adrenalin, and he could vaguely hear a frantic voice trying to get his attention.

There is no threat. I am not threatened. I do not need protection.

His main focus was on stopping the spread of the scales before they became too noticeable. If he could calm down, they would only tend to the injury. Otherwise, they would continue to manifest until he felt safe.

It helped that he didn't taste any blood, which meant his instincts hadn't activated enough to cause his... well, he guessed he'd call them fangs, to flick down from the roof of his mouth. It was a stupid reflex that occurred when he was attacked and really only resulted in slicing open his tongue and getting in the way.

Thank goodness scales didn't manifest inside his mouth. It would make eating a pain.

The slight itch that accompanied the scales' appearance disappeared as his mind wandered and he calmed down. All that was left were sharp, bruise-like aches along his arm and the side where the van had hit him. Those were not going away any time soon.

Finally taking inventory of his surroundings, he noticed someone practically screeching into their cell phone. A familiar someone. Seriously?

"-down the street from the café. Hurry."

Well, that was his cue to leave.

Kyouji attempted to stand, but his vision rushed black at the change in altitude. He was quick to return to his previous position.

Nope. Sitting is good. Just going to sit here for a while, no problem.

Kyouji blinked repeatedly to clear his vision, since shaking his head wasn't likely to be a good idea. He went to lean on his left arm, but quickly retracted it, cradling it as pain shot up his arm, starting at the wrist and lancing up through his shoulder.

"Whoa, hey. Don't try to move."

The large man crouched down to his level, and Kyouji confirmed that yes, this was the guy that had been working with Hiro at the café. Wonderful. Was this group trying to kill him already? Though, he did apply the brakes...

"Can you clearly hear what I'm saying?"

Kyouji nodded. He hadn't hit his head, and the movement caused only the slightest dizziness.

"My name is Wasabi, and I'm going to ask you a couple questions. Can you move your feet, do you feel any sharp pains upon moving, do you feel nauseous, can you see clearly, did you hit your head at all, do you have a headache?"

Well, now I do.

The rapid-fire questions caught him off-guard, and the degree of panic in his tone of voice made Kyouji himself anxious.

"Um... yes, not really, no, yes, no..." Kyouji was interrupted when the woman that had taken Tadashi rollerblading pulled up on her bike. He shifted slightly to pull his injured arm closer to his chest, wincing as he did so and noticed blood was becoming apparent through his miraculously untorn sleeve. That would have made this much more difficult.

"What happened here?"

Wasabi (who has a name like that?) ignored her, and continued asking questions.

"Can you remember your name? Spell it for me, er... in English letters."

No, really. I was going to name the kanji, maybe paint it out on the sidewalk with my blood.

"Kyouji Shakuzai. K-Y-O-U-J-I..." This felt familiar.

"Seriously, what happened?"

"Not now, Gogo." However, he seemed satisfied that Kyouji was capable of the necessary mental abilities.

Kyouji hadn't even noticed that Hiro had walked up to the group before he spoke, and started slightly at his voice.

"Alright, let's get him back to the café to see Baymax."

Wait, that robot-box thing? Wasn't the normal thing to take someone to the hospital or at least call an ambulance or something? Not that he would have gone, but still.

"Hey, wait-"

Apparently the request made sense to the others in the group, as Wasabi practically picked him up to set him on his feet. Kyouji was glad he didn't touch his arm; if the blood were introduced to even the slightest paper cut, it wouldn't end well. Maybe he should start wearing a shirt with a 'Biohazard' symbol stamped to the front.

Hiro ran ahead as Wasabi led him to the café, the scary woman following closely behind. He was led to the back room that he had wondered about the previous day, and sure enough, at the end of the room was a flight of stairs.

Wasabi led him to a crate, which he sat down on, keeping his arm close to his body. He noticed Hiro struggling to carry a large crate from the top of the stairs when he heard another familiar voice. Oh, no.

"Hello? Gogo?"

Who the heck was Gogo? Kyouji glanced at the woman who had leaned against one of the shelves and was popping her gum, who had instinctively looked towards the door at the name. Maybe...

"Where is every-" A tall figure entered the doorway, stopping mid-sentence when she spotted the group. "Oh my gosh, what happened?"

She was suddenly right in front of him. Who could even move that fast while wearing heels like that?

"You said your name was Kyouji, right?"

He was glad he stuck with it, since she apparently had an excellent memory. She even pronounced it right.

"Yeah... you're-" it was something weird that had to do with food, "Honey Lemon."

He had apparently remembered right, because she smiled slightly. He chuckled at the absurdity of the situation; this made three times.

"We really need to stop meeting like this."

Her grin widened, and she ducked her head slightly.

"Wait, you know him?"

Gogo, at least that was how he would refer to her until told otherwise, seemed mildly annoyed at the situation. Honey turned towards her, shrugging slightly as Hiro set the crate down with an audible 'thump'.

"Sort of, we've run into each other before."

"Literally."

Wait, did he say that out loud? Reactivating brain-to-mouth filter. Glancing over at the crate, he felt a sense of trepidation come over him. It didn't help that there were already four other people in the cramped back room, and nobody seemed willing to move towards the stairs to give him some space.

He couldn't risk any of them getting his blood directly on them, though it would take an injury on their part to hurt them. Why was he there? Sure, they were nice enough, but it wasn't like... wait.

His mind raced back to the previous day when Hiro had insisted Gogo take Baymax with her. How it had activated after Tadashi had taken the spill. It was meant to treat injuries.

Kyouji wanted to bolt; he was so stupid. If the robot tried to help him, everyone would see the scales, and that would not go over well. He started to panic internally. How could he get out of this one without freaking everyone out?
"Ow." Hiro's odd statement was answered when a large marshmallow-like figure rose out of the box. "I need you to scan-"

Wait, scan? That was worse!

Hiro had turned towards him, but paused when he looked at him, seeming mildly concerned at the fearful look he was receiving. Kyouji decided he would play it up a bit. He was terrified, but not of the robot, per se. Maybe he could convince him it was a bad idea. He let the adrenalin flow to the rest of his body, causing him to shake slightly.

Letting his terror show, he shook his head violently, backing away in a clear representation of, No, I don't want that thing near me.

Please work.

"He seems to be in distress. I will scan-"

It can talk?

"No, Baymax." Thank God. "I'm satisfied with my care."

But he didn't receive any care, why would he say that?

"But he is clearly injured."

Was this robot arguing with Hiro?

"Baymax, I am satisfied with my care." Hiro said it with a sense of finality. The robot agreed, deactivated, and folded back down. Interesting.

Kyouji let himself relax. That was one problem taken care of. Then Honey Lemon spoke up.

"We can take you to a hospital."

Finally, a normal response to hitting someone with your car, but he still couldn't accept.

"No, I'm okay. Really." The bleeding had stopped, and the wound was firmly closed as his shirt stuck to the scales on his arm. He straightened his arm, moving his fingers slightly, wincing as the bruised muscles pulled.

Yeah, that was convincing.

"Nothing's broken; it's just a few scrapes. I'll be fine." Kyouji stood up, determined to leave on his own if they wouldn't suggest it.

"You should at least get checked..." Wasabi looked genuinely concerned, which was a novelty to Kyouji.

"Really, I'm fine... Thanks though."

Looking around the group, he didn't see a direct path to the exit, and pushing someone aside wasn't an option. Thankfully, Honey Lemon moved out of the way, and he made his way out of the room.

Pausing at the doorway, he raised his right hand in a slight wave goodbye; there was no reason to seem outright unfriendly. He received a small wave in response from Honey Lemon and a nod from Gogo before quickly leaving the café.

Well, that could have gone worse. Kyouji wondered if he should still go through with his plan to get a job at the café, but decided he would stick with his course of action. At least they didn't think he was a freak. Yet.

**A.N. Yeah, it's kind of short, but I split the second half into another chapter, since it didn't fit enough to be considered the same. Chapter 12 should be up sometime this afternoon.

Ja ne: the informal way of saying "See you later" in Japanese**