Skylar sighed, brushing sandy wispy hair away from his windblown forehead. A day ago, he had thought that Japan was the promised land, where fun engrish phrases adorned every sign and manga was sold in every store and everyone loved anime as a true expression of art. A place of freedom and acceptance and racial and gender harmony. A place where everyone spoke english and loved him for being an American and gave him Pocky. But now, he knew the truth: Japan was just like that. But it had the Yakuza. And they were forcing him into slave labor because they had his papers and every time he tried to escape, he couldn't because Ingu was that sexy! It sent shivers dancing along Skylar's spine, dancing really fast and with enough skill to probably beat a level 6 song.
But thoughts of Ingu's cruel, perplexing attractiveness were not going to help Skylar, because he had to work now. He hunched over, back sore from hunching. His foot pedaled back and forth on the pedal of the sewing machine. He had to sew, sew all day, because the Yakuza had decided that a fortune could be made by mass-producing cosplay outfits for cutthroat labor costs. And they were right.
The work was hard, and it was cruel, and the worst part was that Skylar could get SO MUCH for this plugsuit on ebay. It was so unfair and his back was sore and his fingers were pricked. He sucked one crying, as they finally herded the workers into their apartments and gave them each a Pocky ration. He munched on his Pocky as eyes sparkled down from his tears and he flopped down into bed.
But pretty soon he got back up and went to go play DDR again.
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