The clinking sound of the Jewel coins as Katsuki unceremoniously shoved them into his pockets was abruptly cut short by his own explosive exclamation. His hand, halfway to stuffing another handful of the heavy gold pieces away, froze. A look of profound irritation, even more intense than his usual simmering anger, contorted his features.
"Damn it!" he snarled, his voice cutting through the renewed buzz of the guild hall like a whip crack. He glared down at the remaining pile of coins on the bar as if they had personally offended him. "Convert this shit into paper money, will ya?!" He slammed a fist, not holding the coins, down onto the bar top, narrowly missing the collection of monster parts. The wood, already scarred, let out another protesting groan. "I FUCKING HATE COINS! They're heavy, they jingle, and they're a goddamn pain in the ass to carry!"
His sudden, vehement outburst against the universally accepted form of currency took everyone, including Mirajane, by surprise. The chattering guild members fell silent once more, their expressions ranging from bewildered to faintly amused. Natsu, who had been inching closer, eager to challenge the newcomer, paused mid-stride, an eyebrow raised in confusion. Even Gray stopped his instinctive movement to remove another article of clothing, momentarily perplexed by this bizarre display of monetary preference.
Mirajane blinked, her bright smile faltering for a split second before quickly recalibrating. Of all the strange demands and eccentric behaviors she'd witnessed in Fairy Tail – and she had witnessed a lot – a violent aversion to coin currency was a new one.
"Paper money?" she repeated, her tone laced with a hint of surprise and a touch of dawning understanding. "Ah, you mean Jewel notes?" She tilted her head slightly. "We do have them, of course, for larger transactions, but most day-to-day business is conducted with coin. It's more… universally accepted, especially in the smaller villages."
"I don't give a rat's ass what's 'universally accepted'!" Katsuki shot back, his crimson eyes blazing. "I want notes! Bills! Something flat that doesn't weigh a ton and make me sound like a damn walking piggy bank!" He gestured emphatically with the hand still clutching a fistful of coins, nearly sending them flying. The sheer inconvenience of it all seemed to fuel his ire almost as much as a genuine opponent would. Back home, it was all digital transactions or sleek, lightweight credit chips and paper yen. This medieval system of lugging around bags of metal was infuriating.
Mirajane, ever the professional, quickly recovered her composure. A small, understanding smile returned to her lips. Different worlds, different customs, she supposed. And this particular individual was clearly not one to adapt quietly.
"Very well, Bakugo-san," she said smoothly, her voice calm and placating despite the force of his demand. "If you prefer notes, notes you shall have." She gestured to the pile of coins he hadn't yet pocketed. "If you'll just return those, I can exchange them for the equivalent in Jewel bills."
Katsuki grunted, mollified only slightly. He unceremoniously dumped the coins he was holding back onto the bar, adding them to the remaining pile with a clatter. He then began the awkward process of fishing out the coins he'd already managed to stuff into his various pockets, muttering curses under his breath about the stupidity of it all. The U.A. uniform, not designed for carrying large quantities of loose change, was clearly struggling under the load.
Several Fairy Tail mages exchanged amused glances. This newcomer was a tempest of contradictions – devastatingly powerful and efficient in combat, yet utterly undone by the logistics of common currency.
Mirajane, meanwhile, efficiently gathered the coins and, from a secure drawer beneath the bar, produced a stack of crisp, official-looking paper notes of various denominations. She counted them out carefully, her movements precise. "This should be the correct amount," she said, sliding the much neater, lighter stack of bills towards him. "Denominations of one thousand, five thousand, and ten thousand Jewel."
Katsuki snatched the bills, his expression smoothing out somewhat as he examined them. They were printed on sturdy, fibrous paper, bearing intricate designs and the seal of the Fiore Treasury. This was much more like it. He folded them neatly – a surprisingly meticulous action amidst his usual explosive demeanor – and tucked them into an inner pocket of his uniform jacket, which offered a much more dignified and less noisy way to carry his earnings.
"Better," he conceded, though his tone still held a residual edge of annoyance. He shot a final glare at the space where the coins had been, as if daring them to reappear. The entire episode, a brief but intense eruption of frustration over something so mundane, had served as yet another small, peculiar insight into the volatile and uncompromising nature of Katsuki Bakugo for the observing members of Fairy Tail. He was a man who knew what he wanted, and what he vehemently didn't want, down to the very form of his payment.