A/N: Hi all! lemme just say, TRIGGER. WARNING. If you're prone to romanticize suicidal ideology, or get triggered by suicidal thoughts and narration, please close this story, because I really don't think it's all that rare for my oc to sink into that place, and it may be a lil too much if its a sore spot for you. Take care of yourself tho, especially if you do, cause das not good.

The next time Kinu saw the one eyed man, the streets were black as the tea he requested. At the chime of her phone, moments before midnight, she made her way to the door, key in hand, and as she moved the blinds his form lumbered over her through the glass pane. She froze, as anybody would do at the sight of another person standing in the night outside of their house, but Takasugi let himself in before she could process her next move. The man passed her with ease, with a single instruction that called her to action again.

"Go ahead, lock up."

Whether she should listen to him was up for debate, but against her better judgement, she obliged and returned to her stoop behind the counter. Takasugi was prompt with his order only speaking the bare necessity to convey his desire, and his nature was reflected back to him without a voice. He watched as the girl took an orange cactus printed teacup and set it on the counter between them, then clicked his teeth.

"That's hideous. What sort of business are you running here?"

"A failing one," the girl shot back, and her gaze darted up to meet his, more harsh than he remembered her.

"It's certainly the cup's doing." His voice was low. Testing the waters, and as if the eye contact had been too much energy to maintain, Kinu averted, and opted for another cup. He thought it was a good joke. Something that would make her laugh as she had the night before, but her face was a hard mask. Concrete at best. Maybe titanium. He didn't know where to go from there, but allowed the silence to sink in as he took in the store front again. Now that he did, it struck him as more than plain. Darling even. It was a mishmash of traditional artwork and foods, with modern furnishings. The dishes were all from separate sets of china, save for a few, but went well together as a whole. The warm light truly made the shop better at night. More atmospheric. Sunlight would ruin it, and make it fall back into obscurity; revealing too much to keep the magic of the shop alive for any customers.

Their problem was their business hours.

When Kinu placed a floral navy cup on a saucer with lush red roses and thorny green vines in front of him, he felt the corners of his lips elevate. Maybe not enough to be seen. He hoped not. Smiling at an improper cup of tea wasn't very business like or official.

"I don't trust my business partner tonight." He breathed the words after inhaling the vibrant malty aroma wafting from the steaming cup.

"Hm?" The girl still didn't look at him, but tilted her head to the side. He wondered if it was to hear him better, or to avoid getting sink water in her hair as she methodically ran a soapy cloth over a handful of plates and mugs.

"If you'd prefer to leave, I'll allow it. We'll settle the deal, and I'll deliver your shipment as soon as we do."

"No."

Takasugi couldn't say that he was shocked at the answer, but in the back of his mind, he wondered why. If he explicitly said that it was dangerous, he expected Kinu to quietly back down. Maybe hand the key to the shop over. Instead, the girl stacked another dish onto the drying rack, twisted the water off, and started against her hands with gingham towel. The man permitted himself a sip of tea, and the ever pervasive silence crept over the room again, only this time, Kinu's eyes were directly on his, unwavering. Digging, even, for something that he didn't think was there from the lack of expression on her face. She made no attempt to speak. Didn't move. He questioned whether she even breathed, and was tempted to swat his hand through her ethereal form and prove it was nothing but a ghostly wisp playing out a semi-intelligent interaction that boiled down to coincidence.

"There could be injuries." He meant it as a warning, but the words came out matter of fact and sharp. Because it really didn't matter, and he couldn't find it in himself to care if she turned out to be making a mistake and was another fell pawn on his board.

"We'll burn that bridge when we get to it. As they say."

"Nobody says that." The man cut in quickly after her, but she didn't defend her position. It was possibly the longest sober sentence he'd gotten out of her, and the novelty wasn't lost on Takasugi. Kinu watched a spark glimmer in his eye, and eased into a demure narrow of a smile before forcing herself back into her nightly clean up.

He was wrong.

Kinu said it, and she was somebody. Maybe not somebody important, but she definitely thought she met the criteria for being a somebody, and she said it. The one eyed man didn't offer any more to turn her away, and bid her a temporary parting. Said he'd be back in an hour or so, in the dead of the dead of the night, if there was such a thing. And that sounded like something Kinu wanted to exist, so she decided that it did.

After his leaving, Kinu continued being a responsible adult. She tidied the entire room, and set out a few of the most expensive teas from the back of the cupboards. She swept, lit some incense to further mask any lingering alcoholic stench, and imagined the taboo feeling of sneaking one of those guns away and pressing the icy metal to her own temple. Stretching her mouth to fit the barrel of a gun into it, and the click and release of pulling the trigger, knowing what would happen and the bloody aftermath that would be found by her mother, or even luckier, her father. But then the expensive clean up fees she would feel guilty for, and the lingering mental scarring that her mother didn't need, accompanied with the drama and the fuss and police or whatever happened when somebody blew the back of their own head clean off.

It would be an unprofessional work environment, but Takasugi probably wouldn't be bothered by it, and would consider it quirky. An inconvenience, but doable and quirky. He'd complete his deal, including the gun she'd have lifted and go on with his life with this as a pebble in the road at best.

Then she didn't do it, because she was a coward, but she kept the thought snug in her head. Wrapped it in silk and filed it away as an overly dramatic but doable option if she decided that she needed to snap and have a break down in a room full of criminals trying to carry out a peaceful business deal.

But she knew she wouldn't do it.

Because she was shy. And a coward.

A/N: This is a short update because I typed chapters out here before, and forgot about them for too long, so all my files were erased here. Sorry about that, everyone. I had a stroke of inspiration here, though, and I'll try to come back and write again soon. I actually just got a desktop computer, which is a huge relief and step towards writing again because one of the main issues before was that the keyboard on my laptop was broken and the space bar never worked, since i'd gotten it. Take care everyone, and thank you for the reads and reviews!