Our beloved money-hoarding Kakuzu! (Little Match Girl has just recently been updated, by the way.)
Disclaimer: I suppose since these are required, I must say, "I do not own anything of this fic but the idea!"
xxv — cheapo
"What is this, a joke?" demanded Kagome—as her nametag read—while she inspected the coin in her upraised palm with a critical gaze.
Kakuzu's viridian orbs gleamed with a nuance of threat as he tugged at his most recent 'purchase'.
She had a firm grip employed on it and wasn't letting go.
"If you know what's good for you, shop girl," he growled from under his mask, "you'll dislodge your hand from this bag."
The young woman, deciding to regard him again, squinted her eyes at him in a dauntless glare.
"I don't care for your threats, buddy. You think I haven't had enough of those already in an unpredictable world like this? You're paying the full amount charged or I'm calling shinobi security."
He was supposed to be laying low amidst this secluded village, it would produce no fruits to draw unnecessary attention to himself now.
"Look here, Kagome," he hissed, "I am being rather generous; the price this establishment charges for a simple three pounds of rice is ludicrously exorbitant."
She shot him an incredulous stare. "Are you being serious? What are you, a miser?"
"I don't intend on standing around all afternoon haggling with you, shrew," retorted the ex-Falls ninja cantankerously, "so you either accept this liberal pay, or…" Kakuzu let his words trail off in the hopes of conjuring up a menacing aftereffect.
Kagome's eyes darted ahead to the long line of customers queued up behind the (obviously) penurious man, before settling again on his eccentric features.
"There's just not enough time for this," she said with a tired sigh. "Security!"
The point is that you can't be too greedy.
—Donald Trump
Author's Note: Have a great week, guys!