Chapter 22: Interlude II: Somewhere Waiting For Me
Kimura was pretty sure he just shoved someone out of the way, but he was currently pressed for time, so politeness was the furthest thing from his mind. He had just closed the cafe portion of his tea business for lunch, so that gave him about two hours before he needed to reopen. And of course, now was when he decided to try and squeeze in the errands he had been putting off. He had already cursed himself for his stupidity, but it was far too late to just stop and turn back now.
He was also planning on meeting Yōko at their usual spot on Dagobah Beach, and he wanted to stretch that for at least an hour, which only shortened the actual amount of time he had to complete his mental list. And for the final icing on the cake, he had managed to grab the shittiest bag possible to hold his groceries in. All in all, there wasn't too much that could make his day worse, but he held his breath regardless. Things could always get worse, and for him, it always seemed to.
The market today was bustling, since it was a Saturday afternoon, filled with its usual residents as well as outside travelers. The already compact walkways were even tighter and more uncomfortable, people coming way too close into his personal space. But thankfully, the young adult had always been a little assertive in his mannerisms, partly because of his overall pessimistic attitude. It felt as though Lady Luck was constantly against him, so it was hard not to be. It was just easier to grumble at the constant loud noise, or to sigh after finding what he needed sold out.
The male weaved his way around a band of outsiders who clearly didn't understand how the crowd flow worked around here and continued forwards until the familiar scent of raw fish met his nose. Personally, he wasn't the biggest fan of raw fish alone, as its pungent smell and slimy taste made it unappetizing, but it was an ingredient usually used in the Yūki family home. He found himself often eating it out of nostalgia, and the smell he regarded as repulsive made trips to the always crowded market just a bit more tolerable.
The aroma didn't only serve as a heartwarming reminder of the past, but it also let him know when he was finally at the food portion of the city market. The layout of the pop up stores regularly moved around to try and attract new buyers, but the food stores were always located in the same place every time: by the pier.
The stands around the pier weren't as crowded as the others, mostly because outside travelers didn't typically shop for food when passing through, and Kimura finally got his breathing room. He figured he'd start with food shopping since that was likely going to be the most expensive part of his day, and running out of money was not an option, no matter how successful his small business was becoming.
Looking around, he spotted a large wad of green and headed for that first. He eased his way into the produce section of the market. He was generally pleased upon finding out that the food portion of the market never changed spots, not even the stands inside, because that meant he could always find the stand that sold herbal plants without much effort at all.
He had developed an amiable relationship with the older woman who sold the vegetation, one that he had no problem admitting was out of a desire to get better deals. But after shopping with her for nearly three months, their relationship grew more friendly than he had originally anticipated, and he found his icy outer layer melted by her essence of homeyness.
"Ah, Kimura dear," she smiled at him, "Back for your usual today?"
He smiled back, though definitely not as wide, "Indeed so, Hanako-san. I'm in a bit of a rush today."
The older woman sighed and dropped her shoulders sarcastically, but nonetheless began preparing his typical order, "You're always in a rush, Kimura dear. And I've said not to call me that, it makes me feel old."
He chuckled, having heard that time and time again from the lady. He shuffled a hand in his large overcoat, reaching inside for his secretly tied pouch of cash. "Well, I'm meeting up with my sister again, so I can't afford to be late."
She reached for a bushel of mint sprouts already tied together and added them to the growing collection of herbal plants in her arms, which included lemongrass, passionflower, and chamomile. "You know, you speak much of that dear sister of yours. When are you going to introduce me to her?"
Kimura grew sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Ah, well… she isn't very fond of crowds. I'm not sure I could convince her to traverse the market with me…"
Yōko loved the city market much more than he did. She loved the freedom of exploring around and finding a new pop up store. She loved the colors and the possibilities that were quite literally just around the corner. And on top of all that, she loved meeting outside travers with strange tales to tell.
The old Hanako huffed, "As you've told me before. This old soul can only hope."
The man laughed again, but he cringed internally at its hollowness, positive that the elder woman could hear it shatter just as much as he could. The shopkeeper added a heap of lavender to the haul and finally laid it all out on the counter for him to see. Upon the cloth tabletop rested five bushels of herbal plants, all of which Kimura restocked weekly for serving customers at the cafe portion of his business. He took out his usual 1,550 yen and slid it across, only for her to pass back a portion of it.
"Just for today, I'll lower it to 1,000," she smirked, "Buy your sister something nice, alright Kimura dear?"
Still in a bit of shock, he could only nod and pocket the extra cash, sealing up his makeshift wallet back inside his coat. He attempted to stuff the plants into the bag he grabbed, but he could barely fit three before they began to get crushed. Hanako shoved a cheap thin bag at his face, making him jump.
"Use this," the woman sighed defeatedly, "before you crush my poor plants…"
He grabbed the bag from her with embarrassment, and proceeded to quickly shovel his new greenery into it. Checking his watch, his eyes nearly leapt from his skull as his feet sputtered to a start. He took off in a fresh direction, his newly bought products flailing about wildly, nearly falling out of his new bag.
"Thank you again, Hanako-san!" he called as he waved behind him, "I'll be back sometime soon!"
The vendor just waved back gently, before sighing and getting back to her work, a small smile evident on her face, though the young adult couldn't tell due to his turned back.
Kimura paid no mind to his abrupt leave, rushing off to complete the rest of his errands. And though he had just restocked on the vital agents he needed for brewing his tea, he still needed to feed himself. And he surely wasn't going to settle his stomach on mint leaves and lavender buds. He wasn't some grazing deer after all.
Most would agree that living on a limited income would be quite bothersome practically all of the time, but it did have its perks. Since the male had to ration out his money each week, his diet mostly consisted of vegetables, since that was all he could afford. And conveniently, all of the produce stands were grouped together right by old Hanako's, so it made his routine that much easier to pull off.
Well, it wasn't much of a perk now that he thought about it, but when it came to living at end's meet, looking at the glass half full was all he could do. Surprisingly, he didn't find himself saddened at that idea, just more of a pessimistic indifference. It was just the way it was, and he could either feel sorry for himself or move on. And he had no time to feel sorry for himself.
He stopped at another stand that knew him by name, and picked out fresh soybeans and seaweed. The shopkeeper here didn't favor him all too well like Hanako did, but he still priced him fairly, which was all the male could really ask for. He wanted to pick up rice as well, but he could get it cheaper at another stand, so he'd settle for making another trip. Sliding his payment across, he didn't even wait for it to be counted before leaving towards his third stop.
He continued on, weaving through the crowd without a second thought. Despite the market being much busier than usual, the cacophony of sounds didn't impair him as it did the outside travelers or even the other townsfolk. He was good at blocking out the excess noise, good at honing in on the task at hand. After all, he had to be. Surviving alone was hard enough, but living with the desire to succeed past his lineage gave him a hefty goal and almost no way of achieving it. Of course he had to pour everything he had and more into each day. There was no one to back him up if he fell, so there was absolutely no room for slacking off either.
Still, he couldn't help but breathe in the smell of seafood, the salty air stinging his throat a bit. There were times, however, where he just wanted to break down, wallow in his sorrows. He would be reminded of the past he once had, and though deep down he knew he never deserved it in the first place, that still didn't stop the waves of longing that followed. He couldn't afford to be jealous, to be spiteful, but was it wrong to want to? He had never enjoyed his weekly errands to the market, but the constant reminders back to his bittersweet childhood nearly made it unbearable.
So he shook his head and shooed the depressing thoughts as well as the invasive smell out from his conscience. Barbed feelings like that weren't going to help him in the long run. And that's what he was in for: the long run.
Remembering he was currently on a time crunch, he quickened his pace, finding the stand with the cheaper rice. He ran through his mental checklist as he passed the yen down the counter. After this, he should definitely pass by the general portion of the market and check on his textile supplier. And he definitely needed to pick something up for Yōko, courtesy of Hanako's thoughtful gesture.
So when the pouch of rice came sliding down the counter a few moments afterward, he grabbed it without hesitation and sped off in a new direction, towards the more crowded, busier area of the market. He stuffed the rice into the shallow bag he had brought, along with the soybeans and dried seaweed strands. Those three items alone barely fit into the poor excuse for a sack, and while he was thankful for the larger bag he was given for the herbs, Kimura wasn't sure how much more he could physically buy, no matter the extra cash he scrapped together from Hanako.
Shoving past another person, he clutched his bags closer to his body. Pickpockets weren't uncommon, especially on a busy day like this, which was why he always knew to carry his wallet on the inside of his coat. But he couldn't fit his groceries in any of his pockets, and while he doubted anyone would target him for those, that sure didn't stop his paranoia from believing so anyway. Besides, he always made sure to keep his most precious items as close to him as possible, which didn't always include his paycheck.
He didn't even have to look up to tell the crowd was getting thicker, the noise alone starting to give him a headache. Trying to find his textile supplier in a mess like this was certainly annoying, especially knowing the man constantly moved his location every week. If it weren't for the severity of the situation, Kimura would have just left the meeting for another day when he could come visit him at his tea business. But alas, he had his suspicions concerning the delays on his new tea bags, and quite frankly, he was beginning to grow tired of the bullshit.
At least he could pick out the bright sheets of fabric hanging from the stand, even submerged in the crowd. His ankles snapped in that direction as he pushed past, ignoring disgruntled cries and protests at his rough movement. His supplier's stand was much larger than most of the other vendors found in the market, no matter what they sold, which could be attributed to his frequent sales and investors. But even then, the young adult couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about the salesman. And now, topped with an unfounded delay in his promised and prepaid products, his restraint was running thin.
Kimura prided himself in his patience and thick skin. After all, he was running a small business. Opportunities never came easy, and when they did, they were few and far between. He had to learn fast how to wait and stay flexible, as well as when to stand his ground and push for more.
And right now, he was ready to rip the vendor a new one.
He squeezed his way to the front counter, past a likely outside merchant judging off his wear, and slammed his hands down. That grabbed the attention of a middle aged looking man, turned away with his back to the crowds. He promptly spun around at the surprising bang, his startled look of shock quickly and seamlessly morphing into a coy smile.
"Ah, Kimura-san," the older man sang, clenching his teeth to paint his smile white, "What brings you at this busy hour?"
"You know damn well what." To be fair, his tolerance was running close to nonexistent at this point, prickling at the tip of his tongue. "What of my product status? Still delayed?"
The salesman simply waved him off, however. "Ah, unfortunately so. The shipment is coming from China after all, and you know how their waters can be. A bit… rocky… to put it nicely."
The white haired male gripped his fists hard, his icy outer layer beginning to leak into the air around him. The man was getting on his nerves, but he couldn't afford to lose his cool, especially in a crowded public area like this. His friendly reputation amongst his current and potential customers would be squandered, and he'd be doing much more than putting his starting business in jeopardy. After all, the imbecile in front of him was a well respected textile merchant that was responsible for a good portion of shipments from neighboring countries. And while he couldn't quite agree on the "well respected" part, the city certainly did, and he did not want to be ostracized from another place he was starting to grow familiar with.
So he took a deep breath, letting his anger seeth out of him and warm the chilling atmosphere he was beginning to create. He leaned in close, pushing against the counter, and got right up close and personal to his supplier. His voice dropped down to a whisper, so quiet it couldn't be heard amongst the chaos of the masses around them. But his breath practically tickled the hair of its recipient, slithering its way right into his ear like an unwanted parasite.
"Listen to me, and listen to me well, Hisoka." Kimura didn't even bother with the honorifics. The man in front of him didn't deserve them anyway. He was so close to grabbing him by the collar and lifting him off the ground, but he settled for gripping the table harder. He wouldn't put his hands on the merchant, he wasn't an idiot, but he very well could if he wanted to. The young adult was just about 6 feet tall, and he towered over the rest of the population with ease. His ginormous height alone gave him enough of an intimidation factor, so he refrained his anger from turning physical.
Sometimes, he had himself wondering why exactly he entered the tea business anyway, when he looked the way he did.
"Just because I run a newborn business does not make me any more exploitable than your other fools," he hissed, a sadistic part of him enjoying the control he finally seemed to have over a portion of his dreary life, "And I certainly know that shipments coming across the East China Sea do not take three and a half weeks, even if there was a delay."
And this was most certainly not a bluff. While Kimura may not have been the most talented, he certainly was educated. And even after being exiled from the slightest hints of his family, he never let his excellence slip. Constantly repeating and rewriting his notes from the lessons he remembered, and from those he was able to take with him. Reviewing old lessons with Yōko, and even having her share some new ones with him. He had his fair share of older vendors attempting to take advantage of him simply due to his young and inexperienced appearance, but as he liked to think of it, he was a wolf living amongst sheep.
And so the fact that he knew a shipment across the East China Sea would take only two weeks, three weeks at absolute maximum if there hypothetically was a delay, was not a mere bluff.
"So either I receive back half of the value I prepaid," the young male threatened, "or I take my business, as well as my revelations, elsewhere."
The shorter, slightly pudgy shopkeeper looked absolutely mortified, his face as pale as Kimura's ash hair, drenched in a lining of sick, nervous sweat. His knees practically clattered together, like someone was physically bashing the bones against one another. It was almost as if the man had never been called out in his life, which, based on how he was treated amongst the city, was entirely a possibility.
"A-ah, but Kimura-san…" he stuttered out like a petrified toddler whose mother had caught his hand in the candy jar, "I am a-afriad the contract in which you signed states I cannot refund partial or full payments to clients without proof of wreckage or robbery."
"And I read the contract, Hisoka," Kimura fired back, a hint of smugness hiding underneath his threatening tone, "Think of it as compensatory late fees."
The merchant looked as if he wanted to rebuttal, but genuinely came up at a loss for words. So he sighed lightly and grumbled, realizing his defeat, and pulled out his catalog book, searching for where he had accounted for this client's sale. He used his finger to scan for the name and stopped, his eyes widening in distress upon finding it. He sputtered like a broken engine, but unwillingly pulled out his wallet, which was made of fine leather and much nicer overall compared to Kimura's own. He passed back a wad of bills, an exchange noteworthy to any pickpocket and thieves around them, so the male quickly rolled them up and stuffed them away inside his coat.
"Here's half your payment: 75,000 yen," Hisoka muttered under his breath, his mood clearly sour after the newly burned hole in his pocket, "Just take it and never speak of this again."
Kimura smirked unknowingly, unable to help himself. "Just as long as my products arrive on time moving forward."
He turned to walk away smoothly, and he began to, before stopping abruptly and swiveling back around. He returned to close proximity with his supplier, making sure the fire in his eyes and his poisonous grin were both visible.
"Next time," he whispered, bringing his voice back to the hushed volume it was at before, his threats inadvertently becoming more terrifying because, "inform me that what I am ordering is out of stock, instead of taking my money and attempting to lead me around like a braindead fool. Understood?"
He must have really nailed the atmosphere, because Hisoka just nodded vigorously like a primitive coward. Kimura wouldn't have been surprised if his pants were thoroughly soiled. "U-understood, Kimura-san…"
"Good." And just like that, the icy atmosphere vanished, replaced with such a heartwarming smile that no one would have ever been able to tell that something was wrong between the two. It was almost as if the young adult switched masks, his expressions so picture perfect it would have fooled even the most trained eye. "I expect a true report about the shipment status tomorrow. I also expect you to come to me as well, as I already made the effort of seeing you in person today."
He didn't even wait for a verbal response, unsure the poor excuse of a man in front of him could even give him one. Once a quick, pathetic nod met his glance, which certainly didn't take long, he smiled again and turned to leave. He kept his arms close to his chest, making sure he could feel the press of his makeshift wallet sack against his breastbone. Raising one of his hands in a halfhearted, off the shoulder gesture, he waved dismissively, just as the shopkeeper had done to him before.
Kimura sighed heavily under his breath once he was out of view. As powerful as he felt commanding around an older adult like that, his morals didn't really enjoy it as much as his psyche did. His family prided in elegant, respectful direction, and if they had been there to witness his brash, forceful display, it would have only given them more reason to want him gone. And as much as his newfound confidence wanted to break free of those ideals, his broken heart latched tightly onto them like a miserable leech, afraid to let them go.
But, his methods had worked, so whether or not to continue them still remained in the air.
His wallet pressed further into his chest, making him notice just how heavy it was. He certainly wasn't expecting to leave the market richer than he came in, but he most definitely wasn't complaining. It was almost as if fate itself were lining up for the moment. Hanako had given him just enough to buy Yōko maybe a thin paintbrush or two, but with his new reimbursement, he may as well buy her a whole rainbow of colors. Of course, that would be overboard and just immature overall, but he didn't mind entertaining the thought.
Though, that didn't mean he wasn't going to treat her to more than usual.
He glanced at his watch, and nearly shot out of his skin. He was supposed to meet his sister in less than ten minutes, and there was no way he was going empty handed. So he raced from the plaza, hoping to find his way out of the general goods area and to the stand that always supplied him with his gifts for Yōko. In his frantic efforts, he was unsure of how many people he may have shoved from his path, but the thought didn't really matter to him as much as it should. He had much more on his mind at the moment, and his tunnel vision only narrowed further when it came to his sister.
Making his way through the crowd, he wondered what he should get her this time. Maybe some new paints, but he wasn't sure what colors she needed. Canvases were too bulky for her to sneak back, so those were out of the question. Maybe the newest catalog book, as she did enjoy flipping through those, but that felt cheap to his conscience. The massive amount of options that were now available to him due to his increased budget were definitely a plus, but it didn't exactly help narrow down his decision making.
Kimura huffed, letting his shoulders slump. He'd figure it out when he got there.
And it didn't take long for him to do so, arriving at the familiar artsy counter with a sudden jolt. Nearly knocking over a jar of used pencils in his flailing, he scrambled to catch it just in time. The young male certainly looked less graceful than how he walked away from Hisoka earlier, but he collected himself as best he could, attempting to smooth out his unruly hair. His eyes finally focused on the front counter and met the slightly amused ones of the vendor there, causing him to sputter out in a very untasteful manner.
"In a rush, Kimura-san?" the short salesman chuckled, setting down the catalog in his hands, "I do not think I have ever seen you move so fast before."
"A-ah, yes I am," he composed himself with a deep breath, "A bit tight on time today, Kohaku-san."
The shopkeeper smiled, nodding his head in confirmation. "Then I shall save you the small talk. What can I get for you today?"
And here's where the male would hit his road block. His mind drew an absolute blank, having come up with nothing on the way. He sighed and turned away, trying to rack his brain for some semblance of what to purchase. His gaze met with the discarded catalog book that Kohaku had thrown upon the counter, and he reached for that.
"Do you mind if I look through," he asked, holding up the thin booklet.
The man just waved him off, though it was nothing like the dismissive way Hisoka had done earlier. It was amazing how two men so enthralled by business could be so different, but Kimura knew it was simply human nature. Neither was perfect, but he could definitely attest to the artsy supplier's greater competence and trustworthiness. It all drained down to personal morals and experiences, occupation simply had little to do with the matter.
After all, he: a 6 foot young man running a tea brewery right underneath his own living quarters, would know how generalizing stereotypes were in this modern day.
But none of that matter too much as he flipped through the catalog, searching for something to catch his eye. The booklet was a new edition, which made his search feel much more promising, but surprisingly nothing had stuck out to him. Most of which he saw were just more samples and sizes of liquid paint, and while those were a popular choice with Yōko, he felt as if it were too standard of an option. He usually got her acrylic paint, but today, with his expanded budget, that felt too ordinary, too close to normal.
But he also didn't have too much time to simply flip through the book until he found just the item that rang in his heart.
His eyes scanned through as he turned to the next page, landing upon something he hadn't seen before. It looked to be a tray of rainbow, each color separated into blocks. This was definitely interesting, as he swiveled the catalog around to show Kohaku, pointing to his strange discovery.
"What is this? I have not seen it before," he inquired, glancing up to meet the older man's face.
Kohaku smiled before holding up a finger, signaling for him to wait. The vendor shuffled around, turning his back to Kimura, digging through his boxes in the back of the stand. The young adult tried to get a peek, but couldn't see a thing that far deep past the counter. Letting out a noise of enlightenment, the clerk seemed to pull something away from the ground, turning back around once more to set it down on the front table.
Displayed in front of him, was a small wooden box with a bronze clasp. It was of handheld size with a polished finish, and simply looked elegant amongst the chaos of the rest of Kohaku's supplies. He picked it up awestruck, marveling at its beautiful simplicity from each angle.
"That is a new product in the latest installment of the catalog you are holding," he explained, smirking at the genuine astonishment from the young male in front of him, "It is a set of watercolor pastels."
"Watercolor pastels?" Kimura repeated with confusion, "How are they used?"
Kohaku grinned even wider, but managed not to come off overbearing, merely excited, as he opened the clasp from behind and lifted up the lid. The contents of the box glowed in anticipation, almost like revealing the inside of a treasure chest. Hiding inside, were the blocks of color he had seen in the catalog, though they looked much more fascinating in person, if a bit chalky. He resisted the urge to pick one of them up for a closer look, knowing not to touch the product unless he was certain about purchasing them.
"Well, upon adding water, the colors will become usable paints," the salesman continued, "though they are much thinner and lighter than acrylic paints."
Kimura gasped audibly, the description catching him off guard. These would be perfect for Yōko, and easy enough to use. He was sure she would love these, as well as all the different ways she could use them. Oh, he could already see it now, her wondrous smile even wider than usual as she bounced around like a puff of pollen in the wind. He lived for her happiness, her smile, her complete and utter joy. And that was just how he knew that these pastels would work out flawlessly.
"This is perfect, Kohaku-san," he thanked, "Just what I need."
The man closed the box up, looking up at his client in the process. "Are you sure? It is a bit pricey."
But Kimura had made up his mind. This was the perfect gift for his sister. Expensive or not, he had the extra money from both Hanako and Hisoka to afford it. So he nodded and pulled out his wallet, rummaging around for cash, before realizing he had never been given the price for the watercolor set.
Upon understanding that the young male was set on purchasing the pastel box, his grin softened. He ducked below the counter to grab a cheap cloth bag, and popped back up like a spring mole. "That is 6,000 yen."
Kimura flipped through his paper bills, and exchanged the exact currency for the box, pushing the money across the table. Kohaku pocketed the cash quickly and slid the bagged item forward. He watched him lug the bag over his shoulder, balancing it along with the other two bags he was holding. Witnessing him manage to somehow glance at the watch on his wrist, whatever the time read was enough for him to shoot off away from the stand, only bothering to give back a quick wave.
"Thank you again, Kohaku-san!" He turned his head back to yell over the bustling crowd, speeding off without waiting for a response.
Kimura dashed off through the crowd, his heart racing like never before. He was late. He was only over the designated time by a few minutes, but that was a few minutes more that Yōko spent alone. A few more minutes he lost with her. His movement grew extra hasty, and even more forceful than before. He clutched his many bags closer to his body, not wanting to bang them against a stray traveler and damage their contents. Did he care about hitting someone by accident? Not really, as his sister took much higher priority than some random stranger on the street. And he was more concerned about the goods he had just paid for than inadvertently bumping someone around him, as apathetic as that sounded in his head.
He mentally debated whether or not to drop off his grocery bags back at his home. Sure, lugging around one bag with watercolors in it was definitely much easier than three, even if the other two were filled with practically only food. But he knew this part of the city like the back of his hand, which meant he also knew his business-house hybrid was in the opposite direction. If he really made the detour to go back home just to drop off his groceries, he'd only be wasting more time, as well as making Yōko wait. Besides, he barely had an hour left of his lunch break, he couldn't afford to lose any more time.
So with a reluctant sigh, he continued forward, cutting through the mass of people on his way to the plaza edge. His luggage flopped around with every rushed step, but there wasn't much he could do about it. The afternoon had only gotten later, and the streets were even more filled than before, making travel through them much more difficult than he had planned. And Kimura really despised crowds; with a cold, unrelenting passion. He hated the close proximity, the radiance of body warmth, the feeling of stray breath on his skin. And that was all the more reason for him to escape the chaos of today's shoppers sooner rather than later.
Finally, he stumbled into a break in the crowd, taking the opportunity to catch his breath. He looked around, just trying to confirm he was heading in the right direction, hoping to spot some sort of landmark he was familiar with. People were swimming around him in all directions, clogging his focus and perception. But Kimura shook himself awake, redirecting his attention to a tall standing post clock near him. Despite only reminding him how late he currently was, he felt the recognition click within him. He had seen this structure before, remembering its awkward positioning from when he walked the plaza alone at night. It was oddly placed off center from the sidewalk that snaked around the edge of the cobblestone plaza. But that strange detail made it stick out.
The male headed towards it, finding his sense of direction once more. Stepping onto the raised sidewalk, he was able to get a much closer look at the clock. It was definitely the one he assumed it was, and that gave him the needed refreshment on his surroundings.
The clock stood adjacent to an alleyway entrance, one that Kimura used sometimes to avoid crowded streets. It was connected to a series of alleys that ran all across the city. It was perfect for a withdrawn, closed off individual such as himself, and he found himself using them more often then he'd like to admit.
He glanced back at the chaos that currently engulfed the plaza. The streets were filled with travelers, all talking and buying. He would be much better off taking the alleyway path than trying to sift through that. Not only would he avoid the close quarters that easily made him uncomfortable, but he'd be able to cut past the crowd and reach the beach quicker. Plus, he was quite familiar with how to traverse these back roads, so he wouldn't have to worry about getting lost.
As for encountering someone shady, well, Kimura didn't want to think about that, as immature as that sounded to his conscience.
Making his decision, he skidded into a turn and entered the mouth of the alleyway. He held his bags close like a paranoid mother as he let the darkness swallow him whole. Avoiding scraps of trash and discarded planks of wood, the young adult weaved his way down the end of the alley and turned into another. He could feel the blood pounding through his veins, his body unused to exerting so much energy in one moment. But he desperately wanted to arrive as fast as possible, especially after losing enough time already. He probably looked like a lunatic, frantically rushing down the poorly lit paths between buildings, but he quite frankly didn't care. After all, who would even see him while racing through these alleyways anyway?
Then, there was some shuffling, enough to make a trash can fall over as he heard it clang to the ground. But that was the thing, he only heard it. There was no fallen trash can he could see visually for him to match the sound with. So he stopped running and confusedly looked around, trying to hush his panting in order to strain his ears.
Now that it was quiet, he definitely heard more shuffling that followed the crash, but it was too muffled to be coming from in his alley. He could barely make out the sounds, the busy streets just outside of his secretive paths still flooded with people and cacophony. It was probably just a rat then, as they often wandered the dim alleys like him. It probably just knocked over the can in search of food, and was shuffling around in the scraps that had escaped. Kimura just kept telling his mind that, as he moved to continue on his way towards the beach, but oddly enough, it just didn't stick. It was the most logical explanation, so why did he feel so uncomfortable with it?
Then, there was a muffled cry: young, small, and female. His head shot in that direction, and without a split second more, he rushed towards it, trying to find its origin. It didn't matter that he was running away from the designated spot on the beach. Worst case scenario, it ended up being just a rat and he was experiencing auditory hallucinations or hearing loss. But his gut was definitely trying to tell him something was wrong, and this only felt like more proof that his instinct may not be too far off.
He didn't worry about still remaining silent, as he had a general idea of where the sound came from already. He was more concerned about knocking over other trash cans along the way, not wanting to have to go back and pick them up. Narrowly missing one, he made a sharp left turn and stumbled down another alley, completely unprepared for what he saw when he looked up. It was like a scene personally ripped from one of his many nightmares, so unbelievable that he nearly didn't trust what his eyes were seeing.
A familiar yellow, flower pleated kimono, backed up against the brick wall of the building. Two taller, masculine figures around her, who seemed to be taunting her, laughing and further shoving her into the alley wall. Her black hair ripped from her usual bun, tossed messily over her shoulders. Her paled hands were clenched trembling to her chest, desperately trying to retreat into her skin.
It was dizzying, his mind unable to fully process who he was seeing out of concern for his own sanity, but he wasn't an idiot. His stomach bile rocked around like the raging waves of the sea, but surprisingly, he only felt that mildly. Currently, his conscience was an irate bull that had been left enclosed way too long, and the world around him was painted bright red.
So he pointed his horns, bared his teeth, and charged.
"Get the hell away from her, you goddamned ratbags!" He dropped his bags where he was and stormed forward, his every step like thunder raining down from the heavens. His curse caught the attention of both males, and they both turned to meet him. They couldn't have been older than sixteen, but their eerie, arrogant smiles made them resemble the scum he often dealt with at the market: cocky, dickish, and an overall pain.
Their grins glowed even wider than before, almost as if they were happy to see him. Stepping away from her huddled form, the boys approached him. Even though they were probably only five or so years younger than him, their builds were much more stocky than his own. Though, it simply could have been his abnormally lanky form, as he was often told he was merely skin and bones, despite the little he could do to change it.
But still, they approached him almost drunkenly, swaying pompously like they ruled the world. Kimura couldn't help the hint of jealousy that pounded in his heart. What he wouldn't give to feel that immature and carefree again.
"Oi, what do we have here?" one of them laughed, as if him interfering was the funniest thing in the world, "Can you not see that we are busy?"
"And I shall not repeat myself again," Kimura growled, his fist clenching out of anger. If it weren't for his own self-restraint, his nails would have easily broken the skin of his palm, truly painting his world red.
"Oh, I did not mean to upset you, ojiisan," the other mocked, making the young adult undeniably self conscious about his white hair despite his age. The two teens laughed together, just egging each other on. "Please, do not tell on us. We will be better, I promise."
But he ignored the uncomfortable feeling pooling in his gut and relentlessly continued forward, only stopping when he was right up in their personal space. He stared them both down from above, still towering over them with his intimidating height. He refrained from saying anything more, as he held true to his words previously spoken.
The boys were still chuckling, finding the situation absolutely hilarious. The first one that spoke leaned up into his face, a smug smirk smeared onto his lips. "Yeah, ojiisan. You should just go back home before your kneecaps give out on yo-"
The statement couldn't be finished, however, as the boy that said it went crashing to the ground. He rolled around, dazed, before the other managed to pull him back up to his feet. His nose was leaking blood, a thick stream trailing down his red, irritated face. His eyelids fluttered as if they were attached to weights, desperately trying to stay open.
Kimura's world ended up being physically painted red by his own hand, but he found himself uncaring in the moment; his knuckles covered what was thankfully not his own, but still red.
All he needed was to talk a menacing step forward, his dirty fist still closed, for the two boys to be spooked. They backed away fearfully, not expecting such a powerful hit from such a frail looking person. And the young adult didn't look worn or even fazed by the hit at all, robotically glowering towards them like a veteran soldier.
His atmosphere must have thoroughly terrified both, because after barely a few seconds of locking eyes, they scrambled off, one helping the other away. Thankfully so, as he wasn't sure whether he could throw another punch of even half that strength. He wasn't sure where that monstrous blow came from, but it was likely due to his raging adrenaline, meaning it would be hard to recreate even a moment after. But, whatever it was, it was over, letting out a huge sigh of relief. He nearly dropped to his knees in shock, his body still in disbelief, but he found the extra adrenaline to push himself forward, rushing towards the familiar shade of yellow.
"Kimu-niisan," she whimpered, the confirmation unneeded in his conscience, "I am alright."
But he only hugged her closer, afraid to even let her go for a second. Tears threatened to breach his eyes, but crying wouldn't do anything helpful for the situation at hand, so he held them in. One hand stroked her messy hair, just needing to make sure he was holding her, and not someone else he had mistaken her identity for. But he knew he was, since even the air around his sister radiated her happiness.
Pulling away, he got a good look at her disheveled form, and while that only fueled the fire within him, he tried harder to focus on helping her. And while he couldn't tell, the tip of his nose and the space around his eyes were rosier than usual.
"Here," he started, squatting down to her eye level, "Let me fix your hair."
She nodded, and let her brother thread his fingers through her locks, weaving out the tangles and beginning to gather it together. Despite him being a male, he was really good at doing her hair, likely due to the practice he had. It easily got ruined at the beach, and when he used to live at home, she often asked him to fix it for her so their parents wouldn't notice and get angry.
"Did they hurt you?" Kimura asked her carefully, though even she could feel the venom dripping from his tone.
But thankfully, she didn't have to lie as she shook her head. "No, they were just making fun of me for my appearance. I think they wanted my money as well, but it is safely tucked away in one of my school books."
Yōko pointed to the other end of the alley, to which her brother turned to see said books thrown about on the ground. He instantly swelled up in anger, realizing the boys likely threw them away like that while harassing her. Though, they didn't chuck them in the trash fortunately, so they probably only had a few unwanted creases and such, which could be folded out with time.
Still, he couldn't help his fury, and heaved out a heavy exhale to release as much of it as possible. "Why were you even in the alley anyway? It is not safe."
She gestured towards the end of the alleyway, and while the streets couldn't be seen from where they were at, taking a few more turns would give them access to the main roads. "The streets are filled with people. My appearance would have stood out even more so there. I thought I could use the back ways to navigate past the crowds more in secret. I was not expecting to spend more than 10 minutes in the alleys, believe me."
He sighed again. Of course he believed her, but that didn't make him any less scared for her safety. What if he hadn't arrived in time? What if he hadn't even heard her cry in the first place? There were so many things that could have gone wrong, and while he thanked the gods they didn't, that still didn't erase the paranoia that flooded him.
But he managed to collect himself before he fell apart from worry, and with a little time as well as a quick snap of a decorative hair comb, her typical bun was neatly put back into place, practically unnoticeably different from when she left the house. He gathered her belongings as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her kimono, checking to make sure her money was there, to which it was. He handed her the books as she trailed behind him, watching her brother pick up the numerous bags he had dropped upon entering the dim space.
Kimura held out a single hand for her to take, surprisingly finding one free even with his overwhelming luggage, but it didn't take long for her to do so, clasping her soft fingers in his. "Might as well walk together, since we are already here."
And together, the two made their slow way out of the alleys, making sure to check each one before entering and still avoiding the crowds on the streets. Yōko stuck close to her brother, undeniably shaken from the previous experience. There was likely only half an hour left of Kimura's break, but he headed towards the beach anyway. If he opened up again a little later than normal, he wouldn't die or anything. He knew his sister needed the emotional support at the very least, and she was much more important than his business.
But still he couldn't help but feel guilty for her current condition. After all, she had gotten like this because of their routine meetings. And while he knew she was just as enthusiastic as he was about meeting multiple times a week, he couldn't stop his conscience from feeling selfish, like it was his fault for putting her at risk. And technically, it was, as it was his fault they had to meet up in the first place. He was the one who had been exiled, it was his fault that he wasn't talented enough. But as much as that tore his heart to pieces, he knew he had to become successful for her, so he wouldn't have to meet in secret anymore and put her well being in danger.
Yōko wasn't as oblivious as she liked to think she was. She easily picked up on her brother's self doubt, and felt fully to blame. She didn't want him to worry excessively about her, or blame himself instead. Tugging on his hand, she caught his attention down on her, her face turned away almost in shame.
"Kimu-niisan, I am alright, really…" she pleaded as they walked down a new alley, "You do not have to worry…"
He didn't respond right away, taking a moment to let the silence engulf them, only the slight background noise from right around them making its presence known. But even then, it was clear that the male didn't fully believe that, whether due to his own guilt or self doubt. His mind was swamped with the feeling of failure, of helplessness and hopelessness, not that anyone else could tell.
His heart hurt so much, like it had been stomped on repeatedly. All he wanted in his miserable life was to protect his sister, to keep her happy. And somehow, he was still managing to fail at that. What kind of brother was he? What kind of guardian was he?
He would never admit it, but deep down, he was deathly afraid of failing anyway. Despite the blood, sweat, and tears he put into every decision, every action, every controllable aspect of his life, he was so terrified it wouldn't be enough. He didn't want to live his life regretting the one thing he didn't do, but he was scared his life would align like that anyway.
His fear was the reason he was so meticulous, the reason he monitored every variable unwaveringly. Because the last thing he wanted was to feel useless on his own accord. The last thing he wanted was to come to the beach and see his failure lying before his very eyes.
"I just want to keep you safe."
Safe.
Safe-"
"-ny Safer-"
"-rive any Safer?!"
"Can you drive any safer?!"
Recovery Girl leaned over towards the small, plexiglass window that separated the body of the ambulance from the driver and passenger seats up front. She seemed much tenser compared to her usual attitude, her tiny shoulders scrunched and eyes narrowed from behind her visor. She banged on the window hard with her fist, trying to catch the driver's attention, before rushing back over to the middle of the car, managing not to fall despite the ambulance's jerky movements.
Gami clutched his head, his conscience swimming and sloshing like a trapped goldfish. He had been trapped inside his head again, but this time, the question was how long? Pieces of his thoughts flooded back, and he spent longer than he'd like to admit trying to figure out which were of the memory just revealed and which were real life. His vision was spotty and hazy, like he had just awakened from a dream, despite not having slept since who knows when.
Then, it hit him hard, like the speeding ambulance he was currently managing to ride in.
Midoriya.
He looked down almost instantly, guiltily knowing that was exactly where the boy would be.
And there he was, unsurprisingly, which was an awful thought to run through his head. There he was, beaten and bloodied and battered. There he was, barely managing to breathe, with his mouth attached to a respirator like a lifeline. There he was, clothes practically in shreds, stained by his own putrid hue of blood.
There he was, looking as dead as they come.
But the ghost knew he was alive. Even ignoring his shallow breaths, he knew his successor wasn't dead. A Death couldn't die until their work was done. He knew with proper medical treatment, he would come out alright, good as new. And Recovery Girl was one of the best out there, relayed to him by the teen himself.
Still, the spirit felt himself collapse upon seeing Midoriya as so. His body gave out on him as if he were the one with the injuries, and yet, he couldn't find the energy to lift himself back up.
Sure, the boy would be alright, he knew that. But that didn't negate the fact that it was his fault. He couldn't do enough to help, and his friend was left to fight practically all alone. Gami had failed him, and the injuries were entirely his own fault.
The transparent man felt his icy exterior crumble at his internal realization, falling to pieces along with his broken spirit. The sight of his successor only served to worsen his state, his unconscious form a reminder of how useless he himself truly was. He hadn't done enough, he could never do enough. And now Midoriya was paying the price for it.
Gami gripped the edge of the stretcher tightly, resting his head on the cold, metal railing. He clenched it so hard between his bony fingers, feeling the metallic chill sweep through him. But he couldn't focus on anything he was physically feeling, not when the overwhelming rush of guilt quashed his senses. Something fell on his lap, then again, then something more, but he couldn't tell what they were due to his blurry vision. Or maybe, he didn't want to admit what they were. Maybe, he just wanted to pretend like they weren't there at all, and eventually forget the moment altogether.
He couldn't remember the last time he had shed tears anyway