I don't own AirGear, needless to say. Karasu's Arcade, Bar, and Restaurant and Karasu himself are my own creations, however. Perhaps one day you'll see them somewhere else. One can only hope (smile). Oh, and as far as drinks go, I wouldn't know. I don't drink. So all drinks heard in here are random and I have no idea what they would look/taste like. Though I might know the ingredients...
The motorcycle rumbled to a stop in front of a slightly run-down brick building hiding between two much brighter, shinier attractions. As usual, the small parking lot was quite full (contrary to first appearances), making her thankful for having an easily parkable vehicle. Killing the motor, she swung a leg over the side. The sensation felt odd, and she paused a moment. Shouldn't be that light—"Oh…" she whispered, remembering. Clenching her jaw, she fixed her eyes determinedly on the bright red neon sign with its steady light and snazzy characters that declared it to be "Karasu's Arcade, Bar, and Restaurant". Standing to one side of the bike, she pulled out her staff and pushed the kickstand into place, then limped into the building.
A man in a red button-down shirt and a paisley bandana of the same color looked up from his glass-polishing at the door. He smiled, recognizing Benkei's leopard print-and-bikini style, her face, and (of course) her unforgettable bust. "Hey, Benkei-baby. Long time no see," he greeted. She smiled tiredly back at him. "Hey, Karasu. Got some room for me tonight?"
"Yeah, definitely," he replied at once. Something seemed off, and he gave her a double take. "What's wrong with you?"
Benkei glanced down a moment, then sat herself down at the bar. Propping her head up on one hand, she sighed and asked for a Cloudy Spring, on the rocks.
"On the house," replied Karasu, taking out a heavy glass and dropping a few ice cubes in the bottom. He poured thick Irish cream into it, adding a splash of vodka that pooled in the middle, wisps of cream swirling within the clear puddle. He plunked the glass in front of Benkei, who promptly tipped her head back and drank the whole thing down, crunching the ice. "You know, I'll never understand how you can drink something like that on the ice…and all in one go, too," he said admiringly.
She slammed the now-empty glass onto the table. "Ah…"she sighed. "Well, I just happen t' like it that way…"
He grinned, then stopped. A concerned look found its way onto his face. "You still haven't told me what's wrong. We're old friends…" And then Karasu trailed off. "Did you and Yoshitsune split? The gang okay?"
Benkei looked up into his stubbly, concerned, familiar face, starting to get a few wrinkles and now sagging with presumed dread. She felt tears starting to swell behind her eyes. "Boss is dead, Karasu…and so are most of the Trident. Naw, scratch that. I think they're all gone. Y'know that huge fire at home? Someone came after us, and…" She swiped a hand over face and sighed again. "You know how it is..."
The old man's face sagged further. "Damn, Benkei, I'm sorry…"
She shook her head. "You ain't got to apologize, Karasu. You had nothing to do with it. Standing abruptly, she said, "Anyways, sorry t' leave you so quickly, but I've been ridin' all day and I need some shuteye." She stood and brushed passed him, walked behind the bar. He looked after her, worry creasing his brow. Someone yelled, "Bartender, get me a Jack Daniel on the rocks!" from behind him.
He turned, glanced back once, and went back to the bar. There were customers to serve. They could talk later, but knowing Benkei's personality, he wasn't going to learn much with her in this kind of mood.
In the spare bedroom, Benkei stripped, throwing the clothes onto a chair and collapsing into bed. She curled up, pulling the blankets up to her chin, and stared into the dark room.
A young, voluptuous girl with delicate features sat down at the empty bar. She propped her forehead up with one hand, and sighed. Waving at the stubbly bartender, she asked for something creamy and sweet, but cold and strong, too exhausted to think about whether that was even possible. She laid her head down upon the wooden surface, worn smooth and softly lustrous with many years of use. The bartender frowned at her. "I'm sorry, miss, but I don't think you're old enough to drink," he said softly. At her dejectedness, he relented a little. "I'll see what I can do for you," he sighed, and proceeded to create the very first Cloudy Spring, on the rocks. She thanked him, gulping it down, before putting her head back down on the bar.
There was the sound of a chair sliding out next to her, and someone sat down. "Hey there, precious. What stupid son of a bitch left you here all alone 'n sad?"
She straightened up and turned to look at the person sitting next to her. It was a thin man with pale hair combed back smoothly, although a cowlick stood up on either side of his head. He was dressed casually, with glasses and a leer. She narrowed her eyes. "Fuck off," she spat, turning away and putting her head back down.
"Oh, come on, sweetie, don't be so cold," he said, ignoring her spite and daringly brushing her shoulder with his hand. She whipped her head around. "I said fuck off," she growled. "You don't want to fuck with me right now."
He opened his mouth to say "Are you kidding? I'd love t' fuck with you", but thought better of it. Instead, he said, in a much less perverted and much gentler voice, "What wrong?"
"Look, I don't want to talk about it," she said, voice harsh.
"Well, I hate to see someone as beautiful as you sittin' here all sad," he replied, grinning again.
She tched. "Yeah, right. What good is being beautiful if all that it gets you is beaten all the time?"
He blinked. "What stupid bastard beat you?"
She snorted. "My daddy thought it'd be funny seeing his daughter all bruised. Especially after he molested her."
The stranger blinked again. "I'm guessin' that you ran off, and don't have anywhere to stay now."
She sneered at him. "Yeah, and so what? I'll…find a way."
He sneered back her. "And how exactly will you do that? By letting random strangers on the road do what you didn't let your daddy to do?"
"Fuck you, you don't know anything," she spat.
"Nope," he agreed cheerfully. "Not even your name. I'm Yoshitsune, by the way. I got space in my apartment, if you're interested."
"I don't even know you," she said irritably. "Why would I stay with some…random guy, like you said?"
"You got money?"
She looked down. "…no."
"I thought so," said Yoshitsune, smiling. He stood up, and inclined his head towards the door. "Come on, let's go."
She slid off the chair reluctantly, walking out with him. "Um…I'm Benkei."
He smiled again, and kept walking through the parking lot.
They arrived at his apartment, where he slammed his shoulder into the door hard, popping it open. By way of explanation, he said that the key lock was broken and the door always got stuck. He flicked the lights, revealing a slightly messy, small apartment with only a pile of blankets and some cushions, as well as a table and chairs for furniture. "It ain't much, but it's home," said Yoshitsune. "I…see," said Benkei slowly, entering after him.
She woke up on the floor, curled up inside a roll of rumpled pale blue sheets. She blinked blearily, confused as to where she was, then looked around at the unfamiliar setting, breathing in the unfamiliar, completely masculine scent of the apartment. Her head was hurting slightly, from the alcohol last night, she surmised. As she untangled herself and got up, she heard a soft breathing noise behind her. Looking back, she remembered. It was the owner of the apartment—Yoshitsune, wasn't it? Yeah.
"…So you're awake, beautiful," said Yoshitsune, grinning that perverted-looking grin at her.
"Uh…yeah," said Benkei, feeling a bit awkward. She'd run away from home, got into the serious booze (underage, at that, not that she cared), and shacked up with some guy (whose name she barely even knew) in some little apartment. She had no idea where she was and no idea what she was going to do. Unless she went into prostitution, which was basically not an option. In her mind, Benkei shuddered at the thought of all those strange men putting their grimy hands all over her, groping and desecrating her body.
Definitely not even to be considered. "So…" she began, not sure of what she was about to suggest, but not sure if she really had any other choice. "Um…could I…y' know, stay here? I mean," she said, rushing a little, hands fisting at her sides in nervousness. "I could clean and um…yeah…"
Yoshitsune's face lit up. "You'd clean? Really?"
She nodded.
"YES! I hate cleaning!"
She stood there, trying not to laugh at his enthusiasm.
