School. That's no excuse but it's really all I can say. University is its own monster; still, I apologize for taking so long to update. Hope this chapter is a pleasant surprise and makes up for it. Enjoy;)

3. Red, Red, Red Line (or) I Wanna Ruin My Life Differently (I Have New Ideas)

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"Nephrite-san! Wait! You mustn't leave yet. You haven't even seen our newest shipment! It's from an independent cosmetic scientist in Dubai. The tacky likes of Covergirl and Revlon could never!"

At the desperate plea, Nephrite cocked his shades on the top of his head, clucking his tongue. Koan, ever relentless.

"Darling," he said, turning around to find the persistent violet-haired woman beaming up at him, an open sixteen-pan nude eyeshadow palette clutched to her chest, "don't those same brands supply you?"

"When boosting a small creator, I believe that is neither here nor there."

"Then where is it?"

"Buy the damn makeup, my love, or get out."

Nephrite smirked, to which Koan reacted by glaring and standing on the tip of her toes until they were nose-to-nose.

"Koan," a sharp voice called from behind them. "Are you harassing customers again? How many times do I have to tell you to—Nephrite-san. Have you seen our latest shipment from Dubai? It's from an independent cosmetic scientist."

"Koan was just telling me about it," Nephrite said to the green-haired woman approaching them from the backroom. "I've heard Revlon has nothing on it."

"That would be correct." Pertz nodded, folding her hands in front of her. "So what do you say? Up for trying it?"

Nephrite glanced at Koan, her eyes pleading and voracious, and then at Pertz, who appeared significantly calmer, but her eyes were still filled with the signature Spectre greed.

"Sorry to you ladies' capitalist hearts, but my hands are full." He held up the shopping bags in either of his hands, stocked with assorted cosmetics. "I think I've gotten my fill. I might not have to return here for a year."

"You bastard!" Koan exclaimed, horrified. "You wouldn't. I'd kill you myself first."

"Watching your attempt would be amusing." He swished his shades back over his eyes and started for the door of the shop. "If you promise to behave, I may come to see you next week."

"Bitch," Koan muttered, entirely too worked up. Nephrite pivoted to face her with a lazy two-finger salute.

"But I learned from the best, now, didn't I?"

He spun on his heel and exited Spectre Cosmetics, pleased by the impressive string of expletives Koan directed at his back. Wasn't she lucky the shop was closed for lunch? Otherwise, Pertz would have certainly torn into her for vulgarity in front of customers, in which case Nephrite would have stuck around to watch.

But who could blame Koan and her sisters for their money-grubbing ways? If he were competing with various cosmetic outlets in the same shopping center, he'd come up with new and creative ways to convince his preeminent client to keep buying more too. Sans the harassment.

His phone vibrated in the depths of his tote bag. Right on cue.

He withdrew his phone from the bottom of his purse and wasn't disappointed when he read the message on the screen.

K: You just want us to go under, don't you? After everything I've done for you?

Nephrite: All this because I wouldn't buy your makeup? You're a funny woman. Remember what happened with the Italian import? My skin was so dry I couldn't leave the house for a week. It was only out of the kindness of my heart that I didn't leave a negative review on your site. I should have.

K: How, exactly, were we supposed to know it was recalled? But that's beside the point. You're a false friend, for real friends support the people they love even when they make mistakes.

K: What do you need all that makeup for anyway? And why do you buy so much white foundation? Are you secretly a minstrel performer?

Nephrite: Goodbye, friend. I suppose I'll be seeing you in a year's time after all. Learn to behave, and then we'll talk.

Even several paces from the shop, Nephrite could make out Koan's subsequent howl of indignation.

He mindlessly strolled through Venus Outlet, occasionally stopping to peruse one shop or another even though he knew nothing would come out of it. He was here for one thing and already over budget, something Saitou surely wouldn't be enthused about when he got around to calling him.

As per the norm, he attracted curious glances from other shoppers, some more admirable than others and some more repulsed than others. Neither party of onlookers bothered him. He didn't leave the apartment every morning to not be beheld.

It was always nice to be adored, but it was even more thrilling to be the subject of judgment. The longing, jealous looks Zoisite sent his way (and thought he was being discreet about) were one thing, but the offense Jadeite seemed to take at his presence alone was jubilating. That was why Jadeite's departure was a tragedy in and of itself. It wasn't enough for Kunzite to stare at him blankly—sometimes not even at all—and proceed to look the other way. There was no excitement in that, no real challenge.

He wondered what Jadeite and his pantomime were doing now. He hadn't heard from him since yesterday, and Zoisite and Kunzite hadn't indicated they had either besides being broodier than usual. He was probably drowning in his own misery against the backdrop of broken glass. Nephrite hoped Mamoru was smart enough to put aside an emergency fund the first time Jadeite shattered his windows, but with Usagi for a girlfriend, he had more than enough experience with utilities gone too soon.

"Ah—excuse me? Excuse me?"

Nephrite looked over his shoulder, craning an eyebrow when he saw the source of the voice calling out to him. A girl—she looked no older than fourteen—was grinning at him, a stone-faced man Nephrite assumed was her brother given their resemblance standing a few steps behind her. She bounded the rest of the way up to Nephrite, vibrating with excitement.

"I just wanted to say," she began before Nephrite had even finished turning to her, "I saw you back in a BAPE store a couple of minutes ago, and if 'face' was a category at the Olympics, you'd win gold every time. Your makeup is just so good! It's subtle, yet eye-catching. Do you do it yourself?"

Nephrite pushed his shades to the bridge of his nose, smiling crookedly. It was all he could do not to grimace at her makeup–caked on and lending her a decidedly grey appearance.

"Thank you. I do do it myself. It is my face."

The girl nodded vigorously. "Right? I've been practicing a lot. I used to practice on my best friend, but she's a long way from here now. I honestly don't think I'm great at it now, but practice makes perfect. What do you think?"

"You're asking me? We just met."

"Well, yeah. But you must know your stuff looking like that, you know?"

Nephrite looked at her appraisingly. Honest and puppy-like in appearance, wearing a qipao that more than likely wasn't indicative of Chinese ancestry (something Jadeite would have complained about, because what was Jadeite if not disappointment persevering?).

He didn't particularly want to talk to her or get hung up discussing makeup with a child he'd met not even five minutes ago, so Nephrite chose candid over placating.

"Honestly, love," he said, "I think you look dead."

Her face fell instantaneously, and Nephrite almost felt sorry for her. She was awfully young to start doubting her barely developed dreams, but if she was serious, then she could handle it.

"Unless, of course, the Corpse Bride is your main inspiration," Nephrite added as he began walking away. "In that case, contour away."

He could feel her eyes on her, the pitiful presence of her soul before it was whelmed by something darker and heavier. Spite. But it wasn't the girl's energy, and it was getting closer.

Nephrite sighed. Honestly, he wasn't in the mood to brawl anyone's overprotective older brother. He'd just bought this blouse.

Nephrite slithered through the crowd of people and ducked underneath the canopy of a flower shop. He dug a compact out of his tote, angling the mirror reflection to see if he was being tailed. The little girl's brother was still there, now talking up a stranger with an intense aura about himself. Probably asking if he'd seen Nephrite.

"Humans. So relentless," he muttered as he put the mirror away.

Nephrite folded his arms, envisioning his red Mercedes parked outside. When he blinked again, there it was before him, the illustrious Venus's written gift upon it glistening in the sunlight. He kissed two fingers, pressing them against her token before sliding into the car and placing his shopping bags and tote in the passenger seat.

He opened the rooftop with a sway of his finger, winking at the shell-shocked occupant of the van beside his as he shifted gears and pulled off.

Kunzite chastised him for using his powers recklessly, but therein lied the benefit of living in Tokyo. No one was paying attention long enough to notice or care that someone was performing magic in front of them, and if they did they couldn't prove. If they could, then it was only a matter of proving them wrong first.

A foreboding sensation settled over Nephrite. When his phone vibrated a second later, he understood why. He waited an additional five minutes before finally bothering to take out his phone.

Nephrite: You texted me at 4:58 exactly. Are you aware of the evil you've invited into my life?

Saitou: Not this again. Did you read my message?

Nephrite: I deleted it, beloved.

Saitou: Youre the single most paranoid person I've ever met. Throw some salt over your shoulder and get over it. Anyway, you wanna go out for a drink?

Nephrite: As tempting as that is, I don't actually have a lot of time for that tonight, but keep me posted.

Saitou: No I mean like. a normal drink. The typr normal people go out for. I started preparing for shuukatsu so the term's already kicking my ass and it hasn't even started yet.

Nephrite: I'm sure all your hard work will pay off. There's no shortage of jobs for delinquents.

Saitou: Fuck off I'm making an effort here. Anyway what'd you say?

Nephrite: You're sure there are no ulterior motives?

Saitou: Can't a cute guy just grab a drink with another cute guy without it being something weird?

Nephrite: What about that girl you were with? Naoko. You liked her a lot. Can't she keep you company?

Saitou: I *did* like her a lot. She ended things last week. She didn't like that I stayed out a night, thought I was seeing other girls. As you can tell I'm miserable.

Nephrite: I'm not pity-fucking you.

Saitou: It was worth a shot. So can you come? I'm desperate for verbal affirmations.

Nephrite: You're always desperate.

Saitou: True! Now cater to me!

Nephrite: I can't do that if you don't tell me where.

Saitou: Oh right! It's a snappy little place in Shinjuku. Shouldn't be far from where you live. You'll love it.

Saitou texted him the rest of the details, and Nephrite input the address into his navigating system. The place was especially close to where he lived—a five-minute commute by car at most. He hadn't been heading that direction, but Saitou was lucky he had time to kill anyway.

When he arrived at the izakaya, Nephrite was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn't a hole-in-the-wall seed a police raid from going under. Saitou tended to favor places like that. Nephrite refused to accompany him to them, but in his downtime he still frequented the establishments, claiming they served better drinks. Nephrite suspected that that was because the alcohol was fairly more poisonous than it strictly had to be and Saitou was a thrill-seeking idiot, there for a good time and not a long time, but that, perhaps, was why he and Saitou got along so well.

He opened the glove compartment, plucking out one of the salt shakers and tossing some over his shoulder. For good measure, he splayed a handful of it across the seats before heading inside.

Again, he was pleasantly surprised at how non-decrepit it was, and it appeared the waiting staff even wore uniforms. Saitou must have really been devastated as to have mistakenly sent him the directions to a bar that, if not illegal, looked as if it passed its health inspections.

"Can I get you something?" the barmaid asked as she batted her eyelashes in an overt attempt at flirting. She was pretty, with a full figure and fiery red hair Nephrite might have wanted to run his hands through another day, but he wasn't so desperate tonight.

"No, but you might want an aphrodisiac and a vibrator for yourself," he replied, settling onto a stool.

She grimaced, struggling to maintain a professional visage as she bit out, "I'm sorry. Can I get you something?"

"Mugi shochu on the rocks."

She smiled thinly, then spite broke through as she muttered, "Asshole," before storming off, presumably to make and poison his drink.

She returned a few moments later, her sour expression exacerbating when he tipped and subsequently thanked her for her service, and then she stalked away in an overblown exhibit of anger. Out of the corner of his eye, Nephrite could see her gesticulating wildly to another bartender, even occasionally pointing his way. He took it upon himself to wave.

"Sugar cane," he muttered after sipping his drink. Decidedly not the base ingredient he'd asked for and decidedly less appetizing, but at the very least it wasn't sake. Sake and sushi, Saitou had said. You'll love it. Nephrite supposed that was why the man was currently half a liver away from a hernia.

Nephrite flinched when an elbow rammed into his bicep, pain pulsating in his arm as he turned to look at his aggressor, plopping onto the empty stool to Nephrite's right.

He looked to be the age of most salarymen—though the bleached quiff, ripped jeans, and fake Prada jacket suggested he wanted to appear anything but. Further confirming he was living vicariously through someone else was the slight, stumbling girl settling into his lap, giggling as she planted sloppy kisses on his mouth and neck. She didn't look an hour over eighteen, the sensual way her companion traced the low-cut neckline of her red cocktail dress gnashing any leftover presumption that the relationship was platonic.

"Excuse me," Nephrite said, but the man showed no sign of hearing him. He cleared his throat and repeated, louder, "Excuse me."

The man groaned, tearing himself away from his dubiously aged mistress to glare at Nephrite. "What?"

"Calm down," Nephrite mollified. "I just thought you'd be interested to know you came close to ruining twenty thousand yen-worth of shirt. It's a miracle I wasn't holding my drink when you so unceremoniously rammed into me. These stains don't come out easily."

The man stared at Nephrite, ultimately rolling his eyes and resuming his public foreplay session. Not the reaction Nephrite had been hoping for, but that was even better.

"Well, I hope you and your age-inappropriate Jessica Rabbit have lots of fun together," Nephrite said. "I should warn you now, though, that she probably isn't in it for the long haul. I mourn the day unpaid child support and court subpoenas become an issue."

Nephrite felt the mood nosedive moments before the man's head snapped up, his eyes glazed over. He all but pushed his protesting lover out of his lap and rammed a finger in Nephrite's chest.

"Look, pretty boy," he snarled. "I know you hotshots get off people building you up and kissing your ass for shit that doesn't matter, but some of us actually have lives to lead that don't cater to the whims of your ego."

"I see. Is that why you date high school students?"

The aforementioned student gasped in visible offense. Nephrite's intended target looked a number of things; offended, mortified, and most of all pissed. Nephrite grinned as the elder man snarled again, a rush of anticipation flowing through him.

He'd thought that feeling would be far and few between with Jadeite's departure, but this was the second time in barely an hour an opportunity like this had presented itself, and this time he was more than willing to take it. Saitou was always keen on being the last to arrive anyway, so it wouldn't hurt to take advantage of that.

A vibrating noise kicked up in his tote. Alas, the universe had different ideas for him after all.

"You'll excuse me," he said, holding up a hand as he used his opposite one to fish his phone out of his purse. When he saw the caller ID, Nephrite rolled his eyes. Speak of the devil and he will appear.

"Is there a reason whatever you're calling for couldn't have waited until you got here?" Nephrite asked as soon as he answered. "I was in the middle of something."

"What?! You'd better not be doing what I think you're doing! And the nerve to talk on the phone while doing it!" Saitou's voice was all shrills and faux outrage.

"Love, if that were the case, I wouldn't have answered even if you called dangling from the top of Tokyo Tower because your past finally caught up to you."

"You know what? I give you too much grace. Prick."

"Is there a point to this?" Nephrite asked, glancing bemusedly at his aspiring adversary, who looked as though he might implode while his mistress—now green in the face—rubbed circles in his back

"Always," Saitou said, and Nephrite could hear the grin in his tone. And he'd come all the way here. What a waste.

"You're not meeting me here after all, are you? I have a question, friend. What happened between now and the fifteen seconds since our last chat?"

"That's for me to know. But you just know I didn't totally waste your time. What matters is that something came up, and if it works out the way I want it to, you'll be slobbering all over the ground I walk upon for at least the next five years."

Nephrite sighed. "What do I have to do for you to erase the version of me in your head?"

"Wouldn't be an issue if you were a morsel more pliant. Now—don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"And don't do anything you would do. Understood."

"Hey—!"

He cut the call, partly curious as to what exactly Saitou had gotten them wrapped into this time and what benefits they would reap out of it, but he was most disappointed in himself for provoking an altercation he had no interest in continuing anymore. But Saitou had left him with more time to kill, so he'd see it to the end.

"Unfortunately, kind sir, I can't stick around any longer. My business here is finished," Nephrite told the fuming man beside him. He hooked his tote on his arm and stood to his feet. The man, dripping with indignation, also rose to his full height—a few inches taller than Nephrite. Those testosterone injections are height-inducing now? Impressive. Big pharma has truly outdone itself.

Maybe he'd spoken aloud, maybe he hadn't, but the next moment saw a balled fist hurling toward his jaw. Reflexes dictated he caught it in his palm before it could make contact with his face.

"Calm down, love," Nephrite said, bearing his teeth in an uninhibited grin. "I mean no harm. There's no need to resort to violence."

"Get your hands off of him!" the teenage mistress bellowed. "Get your hands off him or I'll—I'll..."

She blanched, her otherwise empty threat trifling away as she clutched a hand to her mouth and scurried out of the room.

Nephrite clenched the loose skin around the man's knuckles and jerked his hand over the base of his wrist, eliciting a strained hiss out of his assailant.

Using the distraction to scan the vicinity, he perked when he spotted a man and a woman seated at a table nearby. They didn't look much older than him but were already deeply committed to each other—the karat gold glistening on the woman's finger was a sure sign of that. It was also the ticket to Nephrite's escape.

"You..." the man hissed, panting and groaning as Nephrite released his hand. He gave a shuddering breath, clutching his maimed wrist.

"Come again?" Nephrite asked, edging closer to the couple's table, and the salaryman, just as he'd anticipated, followed suit. "Come on. Use your words. I know you can."

The man's opposite fist came swinging, this time at a faster and more aggressive momentum, but Nephrite had him where he wanted him and sidestepped out of the trajectory of the flying fist.

Unfortunately, the young couple wasn't granted much reaction time as the would-be salaryman's knuckles bypassed Nephrite and rammed into the woman's nose with a deafening crunch.

The following, "motherfucking hell!" her fiancé let out as she collapsed onto the floor caught the attention of the entire establishment. If one hadn't already been spectating the scene before, then they were paying attention now.

Ouch. Nephrite had assumed that at worst the imbecile would go diving into their table and disturb their dinner. But she'd live, though she'd need more than ice to salvage her bones.

A worker was at the scene now—a last-ditch effort to save the reputation of the bar by stopping further violence. The place was relatively high-end for something Saitou had chosen, so it probably hadn't seen a decent fight in some time—and was dialing 119 while simultaneously attempting to talk down the injured woman's fiancé, who was disseminating every profanity known to man as he cradled her unconscious body in his arms.

Meanwhile, the would-be salaryman stood frozen before the couple, eyes bulging, hands quaking, and more than likely internally lamenting the medical and court expenses in his near future.

Nephrite didn't bother to think of a clever or mocking thing to say. He needed to disappear before the commotion died down and someone observed his role in it, and so, bemoaning the fact that he couldn't remain to watch the fallout, Nephrite swept out of the bar.

He used his powers to unlock his car, pushing a strand of hair that had fallen out of place behind his ear. The downside to conflict was that while exhilarating, it was rarely considerate of natural beauty.

The sound of tandem retching gave Nephrite pause as he made to step off the sidewalk headed toward his car. His better nature told him to ignore it, but curiosity got the better of him, and Nephrite soon found the source of the gagging.

Not that it took much effort. On the same sidewalk, barely a yard away, the would-be salaryman's mistress was crumpled over a trash receptacle.

Nephrite sighed. She really was too young.

"You know, there's an actual dumpster out back to fulfill all your upchucking needs," he told her blithely, keeping a fair distance. Her head was buried in a trash can, after all.

She jolted up, whipping her head around to look at him. Her red-rimmed eyes narrowed.

"What the hell, man?" she demanded, her voice raspy. "You just can't walk up to people and start fights like that. What's your fucking deal?"

"Charmed, I'm sure. You?"

She scoffed, but whatever she might have been about to say was interrupted by a gag, and then she was elbows-deep in the trash again.

When she reemerged, her face was stark white and clammy, and she collapsed onto the sidewalk on her knees.

"Go away," she murmured, swatting aimlessly at the air. "You had your fun already. The least you can do is leave me alone."

"Touché," Nephrite agreed. "But I should probably tell you now that no one's coming to get you, and if they did you probably wouldn't want them to."

She looked up at him, eyes tapered to slits. Nephrite gestured for the glass exterior of the bar, which displayed in full effect the still-unconscious woman's fiancé screaming into the petrified face of the salaryman. From their vantage point, the specks of blood on his knuckles were even visible.

The girl sat up and followed his gaze. She groaned and slumped onto the ground again, looking for all the world like she'd been sentenced to death and some sort of grand epiphany or another flashing through her eyes.

Nephrite, though he wagered he knew the answer, asked, "Do you have anywhere to go?"

Her silence, stretching on for a full minute, was all the response he needed. He sighed again. This wasn't at all how he'd seen his evening panning out. He was ravishing Kunzite's wine cabinet once this was over.

"Can you walk?" he asked, and the girl recoiled, seemingly catching on to his train of thought.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't even know you. How do I know you won't try to gut me, chop up my insides, and sell them underground?"

Nephrite chuckled. "True. How long have you known your silver fox?"

"I met him yesterday. What does that have to do with anythi—oh." She grimaced, but it was too late, for she'd already incriminated herself.

"Oh, what?"

She shook her head, then clutched it. "I'm not coming with you. So. Go. I don't need your help."

"I never offered it," he pointed out. "But if that's what you want then that's what you want. Tell your silver fox I said hi. And that his jacket is fake; I wouldn't wear it again."

He steered toward his car, anticipating the next moment when heels scraped against pavement as the girl struggled to stand to her feet, and then—

"If I did go with you, where would you take me?"

"Is it not enough to take a leap of faith?" Nephrite asked without stopping to look at her.

"No, but I'm drunk and tired and if you do end up killing me, that's on me. Now lead the way."

Nephrite wondered, briefly, how such a cynical girl had wandered into her situation before realizing that that was probably why. She collapsed into the backseat of his car no sooner than he opened the door, so drunk she didn't question the plastic splayed over the seats or protest when he fastened a full-face helmet over her askew curls.

5:23, his phone read when he checked the screen. Mizu wouldn't like to be disturbed before six—and she'd be even more incensed when she learned why he was early—but she'd understand. She was a kvetch like Jadeite, but she'd always understand, even when she didn't want to.

A black-haired woman in a rather plain kimono and oversized haori stood in front of the small okiya when Nephrite pulled up, arms crossed, face twisted into a scowl, and her shimada-style wig leaning to the side.

"An omen fell over me. Fearing the worst, I came out here only to find that my fears had been realized. You're early. Why?" she demanded before he could get a word in.

"I'm happy to see you too, Mizu," Nephrite chirped. "Maybe you've noticed, but your wig is tilting. Long day?"

Mizu snorted inelegantly. "You don't know the half of it. Now tell me why you've decided to disturb me in my domain half an hour earlier than you normally would have. You're not here to distract my girls again, are you?"

"Can't I just be early?"

"Can't I just sleep facing north?"

Nephrite laughed, and when Mizu's mouth didn't so much as curl, he decided she was boring and ill-tempered.

"To provide you with an answer—" he let out the rooftop, exposing his companion; Mizu's eyebrows all but merged with her sloping hairline. "A stowaway."

"What the hell, boy?" Mizu hissed, distinctly unrefined if you asked Nephrite. "You're selling humans now? I don't know what you've heard or who you take me for, but—"

"Inamorata," he called, ignoring the older woman. He snapped a finger in front of the girl's face, an electric charge at his fingertips for additional stimulation.

She jerked upright, looking around wildly until her gaze finally settled on Mizu. Nephrite imagined her eyes were wide as saucers under her helmet.

"Oh," she breathed, her helmet muffling her voice just so. "Are you a geisha? Like a legit, real-life geisha? I've never met one. You're not as freaky as I thought you'd be. Wait. Am I being trafficked?"

Mizu stared.

"I picked her up at a bar," Nephrite explained. "Before you twist that, I'm fairly positive she doesn't have a home to return to. I thought you could arrange something here."

Mizu's jaw dropped. "This isn't an orphanage, boy. You just can't dump girls at my doorstep and expect me to take them."

"I don't expect you to because I know you will."

Mizu glared, but she didn't argue. They both knew he was right.

"What's your name?" she asked the girl.

"Yu... Yumiko," she responded, slowly. "Am I really not being trafficked right now?"

Mizu grit her teeth. "You're in the Fukagawa district of Tokyo, and yes, I am a geisha. I can promise you provisional food and lodging if you reserve a moment to look at me with the end that isn't your rear."

The girl—Yumiko, apparently—shook her helmet-bound head. "I'm sorry. It's just that—ugh. I'm sorry. I have to—I think I'm gonna—"

"Hence the helmet, love," Nephrite said. "Though I'd prefer if you emptied your insides outside the car."

"You demented scion!" Mizu bellowed. With no regard for maintenance, she flung open the door and gently coaxed Yumiko onto the sidewalk. She shot him a withering look before guiding the inebriated girl inside the lodging house.

Mizu reappeared a few short minutes later, forehead creased and her wig leaning further to the side.

"She's in the care of one of the older girls for now. Perfume and liquor make for a foul stench, but not any fouler than the stench of your blood when I sacrifice you. Now is that all or are you working overtime to disappoint me?"

Nephrite rolled his eyes, but he nevertheless picked up the bags of cosmetics in the passenger seat and held them out to her.

Mizu received them without complaint, seeming pleased when she finished perusing them.

"Despite your witchcraft and constant disrespect, I am grateful," she said. "I suppose I'll keep your stowaway alive for as long as she wishes."

"You're welcome," Nephrite said dryly. "You humble me. Truly."

Mizu scoffed, but her eyes were kind. "I do appreciate you, actually. It's already a struggling business, and what we do isn't easy work, so while what you do seems like a small thing, it means a lot to us. Truly."

Her lips upturned in a bare but sincere smile.

He smiled cheekily. "Well, I should start heading back now. My overlord will be suspicious if I come home late without having warned him in advance."

Mizu pursed her lips. "This friend of yours is too paranoid. We're almost finished here. Why don't you stay for dinner? My girls would be thrilled to have you."

Nephrite didn't think Mizu was in any position to accuse anyone of being overly paranoid, let alone Kunzite—who usually drew accurate conclusions based off limited information, unlike herself—but didn't comment. "You were just cursing my name and now you want to have dinner?"

"Duality, boy."

Nephrite considered her offer. It had been some time since he'd visited the okiya just to visit. The younger girls were always fun to talk to. They were easy to impress, hard to offend, and rained praises on anything they considered beautiful.

His phone buzzed for what seemed like the umpteenth time in the last thirty minutes. Nephrite picked it up from where it sat in his lap, nonplussed when he saw who had messaged him.

Saitou: It fell through. Meet me at L'Effervescence tomorrow at noon. All expenses are paid for. Wear something nice, though that shouldn't be a tall order for you.

"Actually, I should go home and rest," Nephrite said, propping a hand up on the door. "It's been a long day."

"If it wasn't long like mine, then it wasn't long at all," Mizu said sagely, her tone carrying a healthy undercut of suspicion. "But very well. Have a safe trip."

"I will."

"Be good!" she called after him as he pulled off, waving her hairpin for emphasis.

I'll try, he thought as he circled back into the city. To be good, that was—objectively. Nephrite kept a hand on the steering wheel, the other rifting through his tote for the money he had left, at least until tomorrow, on hand.

For now, he needed something fresh to wear. Whoever Saitou had arranged for them to meet deserved it, and if they didn't, then his closet certainly did.

So despite popular belief, tipping isn't considered all that rude in Japan, just odd. Save for specific circumstances, it's virtually nonexistent since restaurants there don't usually rely on patrons to pay their hired help, and when it does happen, a confusing, awkward situation can be expected. In this case, the barmaid is insulted by Nephrite's conduct because he's intentionally adding insult to injury by, in her perspective, tipping her as to imply she isn't making a livable wage. The whole tipping/not tipping system is rooted in capitalism and is a complete clusterfuck, but that's a dissertation for another time. Another dissertation for another time is the Geisha, their extensive, fascinating history, and their place in modern Japanese society, but that is neither here nor there (for now).

So I'm aware this take on Nephrite is really different, but I promise there's a reason for it (no, really). There wasn't any interaction featuring the rest of the main cast in this chapter, but Nephrite leads a very... separate life from everyone else, to put it mildly. If it feels distant and unrelated, it's very much intentional, and I hope I pulled that off. I also dropped a million and a half Easter eggs in this chapter, mostly through characters (full disclosure: only one and a half of them is a real OC), so take that as you will. Until next time, and leave a review on your way out ;)