Mugen enters the restaurant, suppressing a groan of pain as he sits down somewhat gingerly, sliding into an empty booth. There's a rowdy group of customers drinking heavily and singing loudly from across the room. It makes his head pound. If he wasn't in such bad shape he might go over there and tell them to shut the hell up, but for now he keeps quiet.
He rolls his shoulders experimentally. His body aches, joints popping uncomfortably in their sockets having been pushed harder than usual. He's gotten used to the weirder sounds bones make when they've been pushed and punished. Sometimes he likes it: the pleasant springy-ness to his muscles after a good fight. It's been a long time since he's had a real one. One that's actually a challenge.
The people he's sent after know he's coming. He can see it in their eyes: the fear and recognition, excuses tumbling from their lips.
I swear next week, I'll have it! I have a family they're depending on me, just give me more time. I just need more time.
None of it is his problem.
They all look the same. The same greasy, crooked businessmen who raise their hands in weak defense. Usually just his presence is enough to miraculously have them digging into their pockets for cash they claimed didn't exist. Sometimes his visits are less pleasant for the other person. He never takes it too far. Keep restrained. Keep focused. He knows what happens when he loses his head.
The man he paid a visit to earlier was nothing like the usual garbage he deals with. He wore a suit that he appeared to have been in the middle of changing when Mugen knocked on his door. He laid the dark suit jacket neatly down on an empty table as he stepped aside for him to enter. Like the rest, he expected this visit. He had long hair tied back and glasses that he peered through silently, allowing Mugen to go through with his whole song and dance. The usual threats of escalation. His expression remained neutral. This was only his first offense, he was late on payment. No need to get violent. Yet.
Just as he turned to leave, the man spoke up:
"Can you use the blade you carry, or is it just decoration?"
Mugen turned and grinned at him.
"Why don't you come and find out?"
Mugen proceeded to nearly get his ass handed to him. Nearly. They were evenly matched—he'd never come across someone who could keep up with him. He guessed he was probably a part of some kendo club in high school.
The fight was broken up by the guys' old landlady who came in shrieking about broken screens. When she got a look at the two of them holding swords she freaked out again. They'd ended up in the tiny courtyard behind the apartment and he might have torn through a screen or two. He doesn't really put much thought into the damage he causes, someone else has to pay for it, but he hates when women cry and whine so he made to leap over the fence. He felt something hit the back of his head. He turned to see an envelope of cash on the ground.
"Tell your boss I don't need any more of these friendly reminders."
This man was practiced, disciplined . Behind the glint of his glasses there was something in his eyes. Something he swears he's seen before.
His face is still healing now, with a fresh bruise blooming along his jaw where the other guy landed a stray blow. He keeps the hood of his jacket up to conceal it. He's been thrown out of family restaurants for looking like trouble before. Sometimes they get one solid look at him, see his tattoos or maybe it's just his skin in general, and turn him away.
Prejudiced bastards.
"What can I get for you?"
A chipper voice interrupts his thoughts. From beneath the red hood he gets a peek of a pink apron, small hands clutching a pen and notepad waiting for his order. He gives the menu a quick once-over and points to the miso soup. The cheapest item they have since he won't get paid for a few more days. The cash the wannabe samurai tossed at him earlier is still in its envelope in his jacket, but he's not stupid enough to dip into Umanosuke's cut.
A few minutes later the waitress sets a steaming bowl of soup along with a plate of dumplings.
"Didn't order those." he says gruffly, though he's already pulling them towards himself. If they fucked up his order that's on them.
"I know." she says brightly. "It just seemed like you could use a little more. It's on me tonight. Let me know if you need anything else!"
He grunts in agreement and she leaves.
For the first time he looks up at her. She's got big, brown doe-eyes that she flashes along with a sweet smile at another customer, directing them to a booth. She tucks her hair behind her ear, writing down their orders.
He spends the evening taking spoonful's of soup and bites of food, watching her ponytail bob as she runs circles around the place. He wonders what she doesn't do here. It seems like she does the jobs of twenty people. He watches her jog to the kitchen door, retying the strings of her apron behind her back as she does and reemerges carrying two huge bowls of noodles. She answers the phone, balances plates on her arms, shouts orders to the back, waves customers away with a bow and a smile.
When she laughs he feels an odd fleeting stab in the center of his chest. Not at all his type. He doesn't mess around with girls like her. He'd rather spend time with a woman who knows what she's doing, who knows exactly what he's after. Girls who know what he is at first sight. Not like her. Girls like her always want something else. It's strange. It's almost like he already knows what her eyes would look like full of tears, staring up at him. Like he's already hurt her.
Like they're connected.
The idea makes the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He hasn't had a drop of alcohol to blame it on either which freaks him out even more. Shaking off the crazy feeling he gets up, stretching and feeling full. He's about to look for her to pay, maybe talk to her and see if she looks any more familiar up close, when she whips past him at full speed, broom in hand, chasing the loud group of men from earlier down the street.
He throws down the cash on the table and leaves, heading in the opposite direction. There's no reason to add any more complications to his life right now.
Imagine his surprise when he does see her again. Instead of a pink apron and torn baggy jeans she's clad in a tiny pink dress that makes his brain go fuzzy and blank. He notices her smiling at another man. Not just any man but that goddamn samurai. Just my fuckin luck. This irks him on a deeply fundamental level for some reason and once again he's wracked with a crazy feeling of familiarity.
He would have walked right past her if she hadn't fallen into his lap, if it wasn't purely instinctual to grab a hold of her.
"Don't you believe in fate?"
His boss said it like it was all just a fun coincidence, but it only adds to his growing sense of weirdness. Fate has a real weird sense of humor. He knows if he goes in there he'll just fuck her life up. It's already fucked he thinks darkly because she's here. But how did she end up here? How did she go from annoyingly perky waitress to this? Umanosuke gives him one of his looks. The ones that say he doesn't have a fuckin' choice in the matter.
She doesn't give him any of her smiles, but he likes the snark she throws at him even more. He can tell she's struggling to act more mature than she is, trying to be like the other more experienced women here. If that's how she wants to play, he'll play right along.
He likes poking and prodding at her, watching her get huffy and mad. He's never liked making a woman mad before. Not like this. She's easy to get flustered and he likes watching her pout.
He also likes when she leans over to pour him a drink, inadvertently squeezing her cleavage together. She doesn't even notice when she does it. She doesn't notice anything she does that's slowly driving him insane. She doesn't see how the more she drinks, the more of her skin gets flushed in a peachy pink, and how it spreads down her neck. Or when she becomes clumsy, swiping up a drop of liquor that falls on her chest in a way that would be seductive if it wasn't for her burst of innocent laughter.
He throws back drink after drink, eyeing her from the corner of his eye. He wants to press his mouth along her neck, feel her gasp when he makes a move on her, slide his hand up her dress. He wants to lock the door and see just how much she'll let him get away with.
At one point she knocks the timer off the table and that's when he remembers their time is limited. He knows, struck with a hollow realization, that if his boss comes in and sees he's not having the time of his life, it'll be her who has to pay for it. Umanosuke is big on girls in these properties being 'trained'. He's never been clear on what that entails exactly, but she's not going to find out.
When she ends up in his lap for the second time he tries not to enjoy it so much. She's failing the game worse than he imagined, proving just how far along she is. She does everything he asks without question and he's half frustrated and half excited by that while she's half drunk looking at him with those damn eyes. Trusting and curious. The worst combination for her to be throwing his way.
He tries not to get too excited by the warmth of her on top of him. He's supposed to be teaching her a lesson so that no one else has to. Only, he's a bad teacher and he keeps getting sidetracked by the tiny movement of her hips on him.
He can't help but touch her. He can hear movement down the hall. Maybe if he had more time he could elicit the real thing from her. God, he wishes he could hear how she'd sound…but he can't. So he hurts her instead.
When they make eye contact his stomach drops: her eyes are full of tears and all he can think is:
When did I turn into a goddamn prophet?
Later that night he takes a cold shower and tells himself that after a night like that she's sure to quit and neither of them will see each other again. If a cord of fate exists, he's snapped it this time, burnt the ends.
As it turns out, fate's string is made of stronger stuff.
Fuu's stomach turns as she paces in the back of the club. The dressing room is empty for the most part, with only a few other girls who are busy applying mascara or taking pictures of themselves with their phones. The other girls have mostly ignored Fuu and she's perfectly fine with that. She can barely think through the clouds of perfume that float through the air. Yuuka doesn't have a shift this week either so she's stuck with texting her and Yuuka can't read Fuu's dread over the phone as dread, but as silly first-timer nerves. She's received many emoji-fied texts telling her that she can do it! I believe in you! None of it is helpful. Yuuka doesn't know how he was with her, how creepy his boss is. How the night devolved into something completely different than what she expected. The idea of facing either one of those men again makes her feel sick.
She's been dreading this shift all day since she woke up around noon, her head pounding and mouth as dry as sand. She's had several one-sided conversations with Momo about the whole thing. The fluffy creature eyed her sleepily as she ranted and by the end of it she came to a decision:
If it's his creepy boss she'll wheel herself around and leave. Who cares if he paid for three weeks, he can get his money back from Mama-san, it's not her problem.
If it's Mugen, she'll punch him straight in the mouth.
Emboldened by this idea, she stands up only to sink right back down, her knees weak. Who's to say she could do either? All of her bravado is fake! She can't face him again.
Mama-san enters, her expression sternly disapproving when she sees Fuu sitting there.
"What are you doing? We don't leave our customer's waiting here!"
She shoos her down the hall and Fuu is almost grateful for the push because moving on her own doesn't seem to be an option.
"Mama-san, if I hit a customer, will I get in trouble?"
The older woman's eyes blink at her blankly until her pager beeps from her pocket. She takes it out, putting on her glasses to squint at it before saying distractedly:
"If a man wants you to hit him, only do it if he pays well. Tell him we charge extra for it, excuse me."
Mama-san leaves her in front of the door to her next customer.
She takes several deep breaths and decides that ripping off the band aid in this case might be her best option.
When she finally opens the door she's shocked to find it isn't Umanosuke or Mugen, but a different man. In fact her next few customers aren't them either.
This is both a relief and a source of stress. He prepaid for weeks. Why wouldn't he come in? Did he not like her? Maybe Mugen didn't know. Or maybe it's all some weird psychological game meant to mess with her. Though something tells her mind-games may not be his strong suit.
"Sorry bout' this."
He said it just before his boss walked in. What did he mean by it? The way he held her, it was almost protective. But she also can't forget the way it felt to have him throw money at her like that, the cold way he spoke to her, like she was cheap and disposable. If that was his way of protecting her she doesn't need it. She's protected herself plenty.
The only time in recent memory she's let her guard down was with him and he's proven that he's exactly the type of person she should stay away from. It's a good thing that he hasn't shown up. He probably has forgotten her. She soothes herself with this thought.
Though she drank too much that night, she can remember with startling clarity how it felt to be on his lap. To feel him beneath her holding her firm and secure. His breath on her neck. The lightness of his fingers tracing up her skin. She gives an involuntary shiver, doing her best to convince herself it's from disgust and nothing else .
A weird guy who carries around a sword with a seriously creepy boss. That's all he is and she doesn't need that sort of guy in her life.
So why does she feel so disappointed that he hasn't shown up?
As it turns out, entertaining guys isn't so hard. Her experience at the restaurant actually comes in handy. She's laughed at bad jokes plenty of times, skirted by innuendo, pretended to be interested in whatever it is they're talking about. Like mama-san said, some guys really do just want to rant about their wives or bosses. She's happy to pour their beer and look sympathetic. For the most part, they're easy to deal with and she's even gotten a few repeat customers.
She's not sure she'll ever be Mama-san's biggest earner like she exclaimed after her first shift, but at the end of each night she seems satisfied with her earnings.
She is surprised one day to see someone does recognize, but it isn't Mugen or his boss; it's the long haired man she admired on her first night there. Even more surprising: He requests her company for the evening.
She's unsure of how to proceed with him as he seems almost uncomfortable being there. He sits stiffly on the couch beside her (she's learned to get over her own trepidation at sitting next to clients). He doesn't bother unbuttoning the top button of his shirt like most of the men do when they arrive in their suits, eager to get comfortable.
He shakes his head when she asks if he wants to play a game. He also turns her down when she suggests ordering food. It's only when her stomach grumbles embarrassingly loud that he orders and pushes the plate towards her once it arrives.
"Oh I couldn't!" she says automatically, but she's eyeing the plate longingly.
"I didn't realize you hadn't eaten." he says quietly, "I should have ordered sooner. Please, help yourself."
She does, trying her best not to inhale it. She hasn't quite mastered the art of making eating look cute. He doesn't seem to be paying attention. He just sips his tea quietly and stares off into space. When she sets her chopsticks down she tries again at conversation.
"So, what brings you here?"
"I don't know. I thought there was something here that could help me, that I could gain some insight, but now that I'm here I'm not sure that's what I'm looking for."
"Oh." she says, deflating. "Is it something I did?"
"No." he says and then adds stiffly. "I don't usually go to these types of places."
"Right." she says confused. "Does your wife not like them?"
"I'm not married."
"Oh then why—"
"Relationships in these establishments are built on lies." he explains, the words tumbling out in a quick rush, as if he'd been holding them back. "I don't mean to suggest you do it maliciously, but it's the truth."
No one has told her how to handle a customer who doesn't want to be there. Every man she's met so far seems at least a little bit happy to be there. They also don't seem to mind the limitations imposed by starting a 'relationship' here. They know it's a fantasy. She should probably be offended that he hasn't even tried to check her out yet, but he doesn't seem like the type of guy to do that to her either. She purses her lips thinking for a long moment before clapping her hands together.
"Then let's start over!" she offers and takes a deep breath.
"My real name is Kasumi Fuu. I used to be a waitress, but the owners sold the property to retire. I started working here a little over a week ago. Totally out of necessity. I don't have a lot of time for hobbies, but I really love eating and sleeping. Oh and I have a pet flying squirrel named Momo."
She beams at him expectantly and he blinks back at her, looking startled.
"I didn't mean for you to—"
"Well then it's your turn!" she urges. "Go on!"
If possible he looks even more uncomfortable, but he does as she says.
"My name is Jin. I am currently unemployed. As far as hobbies I occasionally practice kendo. I also like to fish…but for that it's been quite a while. I have no pets."
She gives him an encouraging smile.
"There! No relationship built on lies here. I promise I'm telling the truth. Mama-san, that's my boss, she told me to be myself with customers. The name thing is mostly for safety but I have a feeling you're not a creep so I'll trust you."
For the first time he gives her a small smile.
"Thank you. I appreciate your honesty." he pauses. "I lied when I said I don't visit hostess clubs. I used to visit one in Ginza, quite frequently."
"Oh!" she says. "Why did you stop going?"
He sits back with a sigh. He looks tired as he pushes the bridge of his glasses back up his nose. His elegant face is young but there's a look of someone years older that she can see in it.
"That may be a story for another time."
On cue the timer goes off on the table. She reaches for it, half wanting to tell him she wouldn't mind him staying later, or even if he wants to talk to her after work, but she's too shy to suggest it.
She stands and bows, thanking him for visiting her. He pauses by the door, holding his jacket over his arm.
"You might think me strange for saying this, but I have had this feeling since we've met, like I am obligated to watch over you. You seem, forgive me, somewhat Ill-suited for this line of work."
She frowns, unsure of how to take that. Especially because it reminds her of what Mugen said.
"I mean that in the best way." he clarifies with an apologetic smile before it dissolves into a frown. "I noticed you the other night with a man here. He carries a sword, do you remember him?"
She feels a hot surge inside.
"Yeah, I remember him."
"He works for a loan shark. A notorious one with ties to a crime syndicate."
"He told me he's a bodyguard." she mumbles.
Jin inclines his head. "I'm sure that's part of his job description, but his job also consists of threats and intimidation on behalf of his boss. I would recommend some caution before getting too involved with someone who runs in that sort of crowd. His boss is dangerous."
"Is he though?" she asks before she can stop herself. "Mugen–uh the man, I mean."
Jin's sharp look is almost paternal in sternness.
"You seem like the type of person who wants to look for the good in everyone, and while that's admirable, you may find yourself in dangerous situations. Just be cautious."
"Well, he does carry around a sword." she mutters.
"He has poor form with it too." Jin supplies, pulling something from his jacket pocket and shakes his head. "His manner is too chaotic, if he only focused on…well, that doesn't matter."
He writes down his number on the back of a business card and hands it to her, telling her to call him if she needs help. She says her goodbyes, staring down at the card, left wondering just what is it about her that has these guys offering her their assistance?
Sometimes customers do have some strange requests as she learns one afternoon when a man she met with insisted he buy her a pair of shoes and that she must wear them for him when he visits next time. He nearly dropped the box trying to hand it over to her with a deep bow, promising to bring her another pair sometime that week before shuffling away. She found the encounter…bizarre. Men there could be so strange.
She stands in the dressing room afterwards examining the shoes and exclaiming out loud to herself:
"Why shoes though?"
She picks up one of the strappy black heels with bemusement. There's a baffling amount of straps, with thin heels that look like they'll snap under the tiniest amount of pressure. She can't imagine wearing them and privately wonders if he'll be disappointed if she conveniently forgets to bring them the next time he comes in.
She hears a voice passing by give a tinkling laugh.
"He has a foot fetish."
She turns to see a beautiful woman, recognizable from the flyers for the club. Yatsuha, or known there as Sumire , has lush dark hair that's tied in a high ponytail, the end draped elegantly over one shoulder. Her black dress has a high slit along one side with a neckline plunging so dangerously low, she has no idea how she's not spilled out yet. She has the sort of seductive look men fall over themselves for. She's passed by her room sometimes when she's entertaining. She often has whole groups of men in there, hanging on her every word. A feat that Fuu feels she will never be capable of.
"A what?" Fuu says, snapping her jaw shut when she realizes she's staring.
She gestures to a fuzzy purple chair nearby and Fuu sits, feeling confused and then embarrassed when Yatsuha kneels before her, carefully removing the plain flat shoes she's been wearing all week. She tries to sputter that she doesn't need help but Yatsuha just ignores her, sliding each foot into a heel, slowly winding the black leather straps all the way to her knees. She sits back to admire her work before rising.
"It means that he's excited by a woman's feet."
She waits for the punchline, but Yatsuha just inclines her head with a small smile.
"But-but there's nothing sexual about feet! " Fuu exclaims.
Yatsuha grins again.
"For some men that's the most erotic part of a woman."
Fuu wrinkles her nose at this.
"That sounds…weird. Don't they like, I don't know, boobs or something?"
Yatsuha laughs at this. "Of course that too, they're very simple, but aren't there parts of a man you like that aren't traditionally considered sexual?"
Just as she's about to say of course not, unbidden comes to her mind a memory of hands caressing the edge of a blade, running up her thighs. She flushes red as Yatsuha continues, her smile knowing.
"For the right person the strangest things can become so arousing, right?"
Fuu contemplates this. Her sexual experience is limited. As in zero. Sometimes she'd get a cute customer but she never put much thought into what happens after if she ever said yes to someone asking her out. No one has ever inspired any sort of feeling like that In her. She's been too busy to even entertain the idea.
But like it or not, Mugen woke something up in her she didn't even know she had. She remembers Jin's warning. It's for the best, remember? She reminds herself. I don't need someone like that doing any sort of awakening.
"We usually do a themed costume week here. To bring in more customers." Yatsuha says casually, unzipping her dress, letting it fall to the floor as she crosses the room. Fuu looks away shyly. Yatsuha, however, seems completely comfortable walking around undressed as she rifles through a huge rack full of clothes along the back wall.
"Oh-okay?"
"I have a couple groups of customers coming tonight to help kick it off. They always look forward to it. I'd love for you to come help me keep them entertained."
"Oh!" Fuu goes bright red, holding up her hands in protest. "I'm not sure I'm the right call for a group deal. I'm barely getting the hang of one-on-one appointments."
Yatsuha waves a hand at this, pulling dresses out to examine before tossing them into a careless pile on the floor.
"Even if you just giggle and look shy they'll eat it up. I have a feeling you'll want to be there."
Fuu purses her lips at this.
"Alright, if you really think it'll be okay. What's the theme?"
Yatsuha turns holding out a pastel pink maid dress, smiling sweetly at Fuu's pale face.
"How do you feel about maid outfits?"
An hour later Fuu finds herself wearing a poofy maid dress. She feels ridiculous but Yatsuha, who has slipped into a black one herself, assures her she looks fantastic, tugging the bow on the back of Fuu's skirt for her.
"No, I definitely look stupid!" Fuu cries, getting a look at herself in the full length mirror. She twists to see how short the dress is with the layers of puffy petticoats underneath. "There's no way anyone wants to see me looking like this unless they want to laugh at me."
"These men like the novelty of maid-cafes without having to worry about being seen in one. Clubs like ours are more discreet." Yatsuha places a frilly matching headband on Fuu's head, standing back to get a good look at her. "You're about to become the highlight of someone's night, I promise."
She leads her to one of the larger rooms in the club complete with a small stage. She parades Fuu along with a few other girls in front of a small group of men who wolf whistle and clap for them.
She introduces them, one by one. Some girls blow a kiss or pirouette, Fuu just gives a little wave, feeling completely overwhelmed. Thankfully she's not expected to do much else after that. Yatsuha takes control of the evening, ordering round after round of shots that's Fuu discreetly pours out into one of the dying potted plants in the room. It quickly becomes apparent that Yatsuha can switch to Sumire in the blink of an eye. She goes from laidback to seductive and inviting. Fuu watches her closely, determined to pick up some tips.
When she laughs at their jokes, for instance, she leans towards them, giving them a playful smack. She's quick to give fleeting touches that men drool over. She has the ability to keep them enticed with just a look.
Fuu does little more than be an overdressed decoration all night which she doesn't mind. She's surprised to learn between groups that she too has been left tips and future requests for her company.
"I told you, they like pretty girls." Yatsuha stage whispers to her with a wink.
"I should probably head back now." Fuu says, feeling the new heels beginning to take a toll on her ankles.
"Just one more group is left. I really think you should stay."
She thinks of the convenience store open near the train station and privately promises to treat herself to whatever snacks she wants in reward for working so long on the way home tonight. With the promise of snacks giving her strength, she nods her head bravely.
The smile on her face drops at once when she recognizes one furious face in the rowdy group now entering and he's staring daggers at her. Maybe swords would be a more fitting comparison. She spots a vein in his forehead close to bursting.
Oh, like you have any right to be mad.
She tries to keep up the same thing she's been doing all night, occasionally getting into quick conversations, pouring drinks, pretending to laugh at someone's joke, but it's hard when he is so near. Any time she looks up he's not looking at her. His arm is slung across the back of a quilted couch, looking like the picture of relaxation. While another girl lights his cigarette, she gets a brief glimpse of his dark eyes on her through the smoke before they flit away.
"Do you like Himawari's new shoes, Mugen?" Yatsuha asks, gesturing to Fuu. "A customer gave them to her today, doesn't she look nice?"
Mugen gives her a brief, careless glance.
"Probably gonna fall on her ass in those."
"You're right!" Fuu says through her her teeth. "I should head home before I do just that. Thank you for inviting me tonight, Sumire."
She stands and bows, excusing herself as quickly as she can. She leaves, shutting the door behind her but as she rushes towards the back, she hears his voice speak up from behind her.
"Nice costume Fuu." He calls out mockingly, barely concealing his pent up annoyance, "didn't think I'd see you here again."
"You can blame your boss for that." She calls back to him, grabbing her purse from a hook around the corner, stuffing her tips inside and setting the rest on Mama-san's desk before going out to the lobby where Mugen waits for her. "He paid for three weeks, so go take it up with him."
He slides around her, sticking an arm out in the narrow hallway to block her exit. She stops short glaring up at him.
"I thought I told you not to come back here." his voice is low, a note of frustration in it. "Why the fuck are you prancing around dressed like that?"
"Who says I have to listen to you?"
She doesn't wait to hear his response and instead ducks beneath his arm to hurry out the back door into the alley. She doesn't have to look back to know he'll be following her. She doesn't know him well, but she has a feeling he's stubborn. He won't let her off so easily.
The streets are still fairly busy, even this late at night, with a few people still milling about. She regrets not changing out of the costume but at least in this part of the city she doesn't stick out too bad.
Just as she predicted, he catches up to her in a few quick strides, walking beside her casually.
"You gonna walk home lookin' like that?" he asks.
"Yep."
He scoffs, shaking his head at her. He slows down and if she isn't mistaken or overly tired from work, it almost seems like he's checking her out.
"What is your deal?" she snaps at him, still trying to keep her frantic pace from before, but her feet are seriously starting to ache.
"I'm just gettin' my three weeks worth." he says with a shrug. "You're behind five days so that means you owe me…27 more."
She shoots him an appalled look over her shoulder.
"Your math is so wrong. I don't know if I should feel sorry for you or what."
"I was doing you a favor." he says pointedly. "I've seen girls there do stuff I know you're not capable of."
She grinds her teeth through this. Counting her steps towards the station. It's taking much longer than usual. No surprise why. Her feet are aching more with each step and each stupid word out of his stupid mouth bores into her. What the hell does he know what I'm capable of? He continues talking, oblivious to her vain attempt at crossing the street to get rid of him. He keeps up easily.
"The amount of times I've had a chick accept a different sort of payment from there…" his voice becomes wistful as he chuckles. "Let's just say you'd be way out of your comfort zone girly. No one wants a shy little virgin."
She thinks of her conversation with Jin earlier.
"I had totally normal clients today." she says, keeping her voice measured and decides to leave out the bit about foot-guy. He'd never let her live that down. "They left good tips. No one expected me to take anything off or do whatever perverted stuff you do."
"Yet ." he interjects, "Cause' you got lucky, but one day the wrong kinda' guy is gonna walk in there—"
She turns abruptly and he nearly bumps into her outside the entrance to the station.
"You mean the type of guy that would throw money at my face and pinch my butt so hard that there's still a bruise? Yeah, I already met him."
He looks like he's working hard to think, like maybe her words affected him somehow. His expression falters, brow furrowed in concern and for a second she thinks he might actually apologize, but instead he says completely seriously:
"You want me to kiss it to make it feel better?"
Her mouth falls open, but she snaps it shut, turning to march down the stairs.
"You are unbelievable. Seriously, I have never met anyone like you before. Either I'm such a boring virgin no guy will want me or they're all sex crazed idiots and I'm in danger." A few people they pass look back at her. She's probably talking too loud but right now she doesn't care. The entire situation is so ridiculous it's almost funny. "It's so weird . Why are guys suddenly offering me their protection lately? I didn't realize we went back in time 400 years."
"Who else offered to protect you." he asks, his cigarette falling from his mouth.
She ignores him, swiping her card across the ticket gate. He hops over it to follow her out onto the platform. She eyes at this little act of illegal athleticism with disapproval.
"Who was it?" he asks again. "Did you say yes?"
"A very nice man." she says, finally turning to look up at him. She feels a hiss of air as the train approaches, the doors sliding open behind her. "But I don't need his help. Or yours either. I'm fine all by myself."
She enters the train car just as it begins to close, just in case he has any ideas about following her home. She turns in time to see him leaning against a column and catches a fleeting glimpse of his smirk just before she's whisked away.
She doesn't really expect him to come back, but he does. Without fail, every single night afterwards, he is always her last customer of the evening, waltzing in just when she thinks she's free to leave. Like before he incorrectly counts down how many days they have left together. It isn't until she calls Mama-san in to politely correct him on the amount of days he's owed with her that he finally lets it go. He mutters something about being scammed but she ignores it. She's the one getting scammed because it doesn't matter how much his boss paid, it's not worth spending time with him.
Some nights she sits, stewing in silence while he lounges around. Others she gets to watch him eat again which is always frustrating because he isn't a gentleman like Jin, he never offers her any. She points this out to him one night, thinking he might get jealous, but instead he makes a point to revel in the taste of the food even more, telling her how good it is. She sits idly by, ignoring his moans of appreciation.
She makes a point to never let him get near her and steers clear of alcohol too for good measure, refusing to play a single game with him. She won't make that mistake again. She even requests a larger room with another seat in it so that she doesn't have to sit right beside him.
Sometimes he shows up in a bad mood, like he doesn't want to be there but stays purely on principle. On those nights, when it seems he doesn't want to do anything but be surly, she sings karaoke. Badly. He sits through her belting out sappy love ballad after love ballad, taking sips of booze or long drags from his cigarettes, his face blank. Sometimes it almost seems like her one-woman performances help with his bad temperament. Especially when he gives them a half-hearted applause at the end.
All week Jin's words have rung in her head. I would recommend some caution before getting too involved with someone who runs in that sort of crowd.
"What do you really do for work?" she asks one night.
"Already told ya'." he says, without looking up. He found one of the magazines with scantily clad women lying around and has buried himself behind them all night. He turns the page, unfolding a long centerfold and examining it like it's the long lost cypher for a dead language.
"I heard your boss is a loan shark." she says carefully. There's an almost imperceptible change in his posture as she continues. "Is it true you beat people up who don't pay him back?"
His eyes flick up to her over the magazine.
"Who told you that?"
She shrugs, fiddling with the cord of the microphone in her lap.
"That loser in the glasses huh?"
She drops the mic.
"How'd you know?"
"We've met," he admits grudgingly. "Didn't realize he was a fuckin' samurai or whatever. Doesn't matter."
"Samurai? I thought he was unemployed."
Mugen rolls his eyes. "True. He's broke as shit. Don't think he's some charming rich—."
"Well I like him." She says, cutting off whatever disparaging remarks he was about to say.
He perks up. "Does he come see you?"
"Yeah, a couple times now. He's very friendly."
She gets an enormous amount of satisfaction from his dumbfounded expression. He sits back looking surly again.
"If he's coming here to see you, he's not your friend." he mutters.
"But do you really beat people up?" she asks again. It seems like he's skirting around the question and it's bothering her. He might be dangerous, she won't deny that, but the thought of him hurting anyone goes against something in her. She's done her best to keep her guard up with him, but imagining him doing harm doesn't fit with the image of him in her head.
He slaps the magazine shut.
"Yeah, I do. Is that a problem?"
"Oh."
She goes quiet. He slams the magazine down on the table, leaning to look at her, his voice defensive.
"What? You wanna' say something, just say it."
"It's just, Mama-san has borrowed money. If she…if she couldn't pay it back…"
"I'm not beating up old women." he says, sounding offended. "If that's what you're gettin' at."
"Oh no, I don't think you would!" she says quickly, her face going red. "I just worry about what your boss would do. You're not- well, you're not bad."
He settles down at this, giving her a strange look.
"I just told you I beat people for a living and you say I'm not bad?"
He's right of course. Maybe it's just been a long week or maybe she's being stupid because despite not meaning to let her guard with him she has. Her feelings towards him have thawed somewhat. Totally against her will.
Just a little.
He's not terrible. Annoying, yes, but not a bad person.
"You're kind of a pain and you can be a jerk but you're not bad Mugen, not like that. I can tell."
"Bullshit you can tell." he says dismissively, "How can you tell anything about me?"
"You don't ever get feelings about people? Where you can just tell what they're like? Like, you know you can trust them. It's, I dunno, instinct. I guess." She feels hot under his gaze and looks away muttering. "Just take the damn compliment already."
"I'm just like every other bastard who comes here." he says, "don't forget that just because you're gettin' the hots for me now."
Her face goes warm and she lifts her head defiantly.
"No way! You wish."
He smirks again, standing to slide into the seat next to her. She scoots away in alarm as he leans towards her. His eyes slide down her body suggestively and she's so grateful that it's her last night in this stupid outfit. Who even came up with a costume week at a hostess club?
"Nah, I think you're right, sometimes you just know." he murmurs, grinning at her attempt to move away from him. "Kinda like how I know you're dying for me to make another move on you. All you gotta do is ask."
She makes a face at him, ignoring the pleasant feel of him near her, the cocky grin plastered all over his face.
"That's not at all what I meant by that you perv—"
The timer goes off and she jumps at the noise. He scowls at it, kicking it off the table with his foot.
"Hate that thing."
She breathes a sigh of relief when he stands. Privately she agrees. He hasn't been acting like he did the first night there. Her time with him has been almost fun again.
For a second she thinks literal warning bells are going off but it's just her phone. She flips it open to read the text there with a groan.
The weird foot-guy from before is back with another pair of shoes.
She just wants to go home. More important than that she doesn't want him to see her escorting another man out. Some guys get it, but others want to keep the fantasy going, like they alone have exclusive access to a hostess. She has a feeling this particular guy doesn't live in the real world.
She pulls on the back of Mugen's jacket to stop him. He turns to look at her.
"Um, I need to sneak you out a different way. There's another customer waiting with a present for me and I don't know if he'll like it if he sees you with me." She says this apologetically, but he stares at her like she's crazy.
"Like I give a shit."
"But could you just wait here?"
He places a hand over his chest in mock-hurt.
"You're gonna hurt my feelings making me think people won't like me you know."
His voice is quietly mocking and he marches past her out the door. She follows after him quickly, jogging to rush in front of him.
Once they reach the front she shoves him down roughly so that his head ducks beneath the counter there.
"You bitch what're you—"
"Just shut up!" she hisses, having half a mind to kick him while he's down there for calling her a bitch.
She cranes her neck to see if foot-guy is there. To her relief he walks in, another shoebox in hand. She does her best to look casual. He spots her at the counter and waves.
"I forgot to bring these to you earlier!"
"That's so thoughtful!"
She lies brightly, feeling sweat begin to bead at the back of her neck. At any moment Mugen could decide to pop out and completely ruin this for her. Which would look really bad given his current position.
While he talks, she feels a pair of hands crawl up her thighs, teasingly slow. She's robbed of speech for a few seconds as she realizes what's going on. She manages to choke out some affirmation, no idea what this guy is saying. Mugen completely ignores her surreptitiously blind attempt at smacking his hands away from beneath the counter.
"I'll see you tomorrow then!" he says and she nods weakly, trying to pull Mugen to his feet.
"You worried we're gonna get caught?" she feels him murmur embarrassingly near to parts of her no one has ever been this close to. "—or maybe you're worried four-eyes will come in and see you like this and think you're not a good girl after all?"
"Oh, shut up Mugen." she whines, trying desperately to pull him to his feet again now that they're alone because that's exactly what she's worried about. Not to mention she's not supposed to be seen in any sort of compromising position with a customer. It'll ruin the fantasy if she's seen with a man who is now… flipping up her skirt?!
He chuckles against her and the warm air from it tickles her as he rifles through the poofy layers of her skirt, holding them above his head.
A strangled squeak escapes her lips.
"What are you—"
"Pink eh? Did I ever tell you that I love pink? My favorite color actually."
She feels a single finger stroke her and she all but collapses, gripping onto the counter for support. Worst of all she lets out the most pathetic whimper, clapping a hand over her mouth.
Oh God. She has never made a noise like that in her life. She has also never felt like this before, her legs are shaking and she feels hot all over, tears spring to her eyes. He does it again and she bites back another cry. How can a touch so feather light feel like such absolute torture.
"Gotta' be quiet, remember?" he admonishes with a dark chuckle. She feels the elastic of her panties begin to pull back. "Fuck, I can't believe how sensitive you are—"
At this she finally succeeds in yanking him to his feet before he can dive in any further. Her face is roasting, lit up like a traffic light. She drags him through the halls, trying to rush him through the door before anyone sees the two of them. She pushes him out into the alley, glaring at him.
He stumbles back, grinning at her with a ridiculous amount of smugness, tucking his hands behind his head to watch her.
"What is it with you?" She hisses at him. "Why can't you control yourself?"
"You liked it." he says, looking at her in wonder, like he's piecing it all together. "You like me."
"I do not! I am tolerating you because I have to. Your tab is going to run dry and then you'll move on to someone else. Next week I'll catch you here in another girls room and-and—"
She trails off distractedly. The thought fills her with agitation: Mugen with another woman there, playing the same dumb little games, flipping up their skirts, pulling them into his lap. Using the same stupid lines on them. Probably Yatsuha, who possesses every single attribute she's lacking. She becomes incensed at the idea, glaring at him as if he's already done it.
He appears to be barely aware of her fuming, his eyes become glazed. The look on his face sends a thrill of anticipation coiling in her stomach.
"I gotta say, your bitchy little good-girl act is really doing it for me."
His breathing is uneven. She watches his tongue moisten his lips as his eyes trail down her body. Her own breathing hitches in response.
"Mugen?"
If he moved toward her quickly, she'd have the excuse to say she didn't see this coming, that she was blindsided by his advance. But it would be a lie. She knows what he means to do when he grabs the back of her skull to tilt her head. She doesn't put up a fight; only registering the warmth of him near her, the hot sip of his tongue as it probes the closed seam of her lips. The intrusion is bizarre, unexpected. She tries to say his name again, and he finds an entry on the second syllable of his name. She squirms in his grip, feeling dazed as his tongue explores her mouth. He tastes like cinnamon and only faintly like alcohol and she's grateful he hasn't smoked tonight because then she might find that taste less pleasant. As it is she's not sure what to make of it.
She thought kisses were supposed to be sweet, she imagined them like a bite of soft mochi. Something gentle and romantic. She's not sure Mugen's capable of something sweet.
"You still think I'm not bad?" he asks raggedly, dragging his mouth down to her neck, his hands simultaneously drifting up her skirts again. "Told you. I'm like every other guy here."
She's useless again, trying to will herself to do something other than gasp or squirm, since both of those things seem to egg him on. She feels his teeth graze her neck and she whines, fingers digging into his arm. His hands slip behind her, hoisting her skirts up again so he can squeeze her. Much different from the cruel pinch he subjected her to before.
It takes her several hazy seconds to remember that they're outside and that anyone could walk out to see them like that. She finally extricates herself from his grip, extending her arms, head bowed, pushing him back. She can feel the frantic thud of his heart beneath her fingers and she pulls back.
He lets her step back without a fight.
"You're a jerk." She says, her voice weak, ignoring the aching throb between her legs. "A huge, obnoxious, jerk ."
Much to her annoyance, a triumphant grin appears on his stupid face.
"That's not the only huge thing about me, you know."
She groans at this and tries to straighten her skirt and hair, avoiding his face. She can't seem to calm her heart down. I'm mad at him. She reminds herself. I should be feeling used!
But all she feels is painfully unfulfilled.
She can't believe she's let herself get into this position again. She doesn't know what it is about him that has her ending up like this. Or why she wants to keep letting it happen. He never even apologized for hurting her before, just waved it away like he was doing it for her own good! Was this for her own good too? Was this another game for him that would end in her looking stupid? To show her that every guy is going to grope and tease her until she's left feeling crazy?
"Go home, Mugen." she says, turning away so that he can't see her take several steadying breaths, "I can't even think with you here right now."
"Seemed like you were havin' a good time." He says innocently.
"Go. Home."
"Okay, but, before I go…"
She turns apprehensively to look at him. His face is serious once more and almost sheepish as he scratches his head. She holds her breath.
"Just let me see how wet you are—"
"MUGEN."
