Lady and the Tramp 「TBTP / closed」

Cold; the uneven rough ground on which he sat, arms hugging his knees to his body. Slowly his body rocked back and forth as he tried to keep what little remaining warmth his body produced. It looked like it was going to rain soon too.

Pain; his knees were bruised and scraped from a number of recent falls. Blood welled gradually to the grazes on sides of his blistered bare feet. His elbows were in a better state, the remnants of an early incident beginning to finally heal. Under the clothing, a purple mark ran across his side, the sting still ever present.

Hunger; more than anything, his hunger consumed him. Anything: scraps, leftovers or spoiled, it did not matter to him, he would gratefully eat it to the last crumb. He felt starved, weak and unsteady on his feet, dizziness if he exerted his frail form.

As it stood, the bright sheen had left his gray irises as he blankly rocked back and forth.

Back and forth.

Over and over again.

His thoughts were scattered. Food no longer was even on his mind. Perhaps it was self pity, maybe it was just he was so hungry that he forgot about just how much he desired a morsel.

His unkempt silver hair rustled in the wind; he shivered as the icy breeze passed through him. He squeezed tighter to himself forcing his grey yukata closer to his thin, malnutritioned form.

Despite all that, his tattered clothes were not that dirty. Old as they were, he tried his best to take care of what little he possessed. His hair was clean, recently washed in a nearby spring. A few dark smudges from his hands marked his cheeks. There were no stains on his yukata though there were a few tears here and there. A closer inspection would have revealed some of the inexperienced patchwork with string he had done.

Oddest of all was the fact that he seemed to give of a subtle yet notable floral fragrant; the few people who walked past him seemed to be unable to pass without giving him a pitied look, contrary to some of the more disgusted looks they gave to some of the grittier individuals in similar circumstances to him.

His unseen aura was juxtaposed to his condition. Those particularly susceptible who took note of him felt peaceful, felt relaxed and calmed. It was one of the reasons why every so often, someone would be gracious enough to spare him a little of what he needed.

A dull gaze rose from behind his knees as he looked longingly at the products on sale a short way away from him. The local vendors would likely shut soon. If they were feeling generous, they might spare him something small, a piece of bread, maybe an apple that would be unlikely to sell. If he was lucky he might get something warm; every now and again he would be given a cup of green tea. Rubbing his hands together took a fraction of the chill out of his fingers. He cupped them and gently blew into them. His hands tingled, a lack of movement, combined with the cold, damp air was rendering them slightly numb.

His eyes caught that of a person, a female. Out of place, one might say. Graceful; her posture and her gait. Elegant; her clothing and accessories. A sadness as he thought about how lucky she was to be able to live the life he imagined her to live; how unlucky he was to be just a poor, homeless child, plagued by hunger all the time. It was unusual to feel hunger like he did. Those around him did not have the same problem as him. For them it was a luxury, to him it was a necessity. He did not question why but simply took only negativity from it.

He hated it, the need becoming so great at times that he would be forced to take a piece of fruit from a stall or a small piece of bread just so sustain himself. Lightly he rubbed his side, a reminder that karma always struck back; in this case karma dealt by an angry vendor with a wooden stick. If he could, he would pay for it all but he could not and he did not want to waste away till nothing remained.

Just maybe, that lady would see his plight and maybe give him something. Anything. He had seen her glance in his general direction.

Hanae Yuichiro wanted to live too.

Has she bought everything she needs? She certainly thinks so, as she glances at the basket in her hand and notices just how full it is of various groceries. She then allows her eyes to trail up to the skies, hesitancy in her gaze as she examines the gathering clouds. They are steadily growing denser, the little daylight that had been around seems to be fading. It'll come down soon again, that much is inevitable. She is not the only one to notice this, as the vendors seem to be more determined to close their stores now. Some have even started to pack their goods away and seem to be intent on closing their booths even before the rain will arrive.

There doesn't seem to be that big a demand for their presence, either way, Tomie notes, as she examines her surroundings. The few potential customers around seem to be going their separate ways too. Maybe the madam has just failed in terms of social cues and lingered for longer than necessary, but perhaps the merchants retain their stands because they caught a whiff of the scent of money she emits. They shouldn't complain, regardless, as long as their pouches got more coins, which they for the most part, did, thanks to her; the madam is a fairly famous, perhaps infamous, figure in the twenty-second district, after all.

She unfolds her parasol, now doubling as an umbrella, and allows its fancy canopy to spread above her, sheltering her from the inevitable rain. Not only is this act practical, but it also enhances the illusion of enigma she dearly shrouds herself in. "Who is this mysterious lady concealing herself underneath this expensive flower? Why is she here?" These are questions she'd like for others to ask themselves when they see her. Life is not much fun without theatrics.

But then again, to some, life doesn't appear to be fun at all.

She sees them in the corner of her eye, as she had done prior to buying most of her groceries. Their concentration isn't nearly as dense as it previously was; the vagabonds have started to disperse a bit through the plaza as the shops started to close, ready to huddle in corners and crannies to shelter from the untamed deluge about to descend upon them. Some of these wretched faces are she able to recognize, others she is not. The rabble is a spice of variety at times, as society's discourse fluctuates as time passes. Sometimes, the bottom will rise from the filth and do something productive. Other times, the elevated will plummet to the ground, unable to rise. She had plummeted herself, but refused to yield to gravity and had scratched out a nice little spot in the middle of the tree.

But she knows that not everyone can do that. Some do need a bit of a push to get going and she is more than compliant to be responsible for that extra force.

She makes her rounds with the vagabonds. Some recognize her from before, thank her heartily for her patronage and reach for her hands, trying to grip them in gratitude; she in return, says nothing and offers them only the warmth of her eyes. Others are again confounded as they are handed pieces of hot meat and remain equally so as the lady trots off towards the next recipient of her gifts. They are of a wide variety of ages apparent: elders, adults, youths, children. Some don't necessarily seem to need food, but clothes more so. Alas, there had not been a single clothes vendor in sight when she had entered the market.

In quite the literal sense, these beggars can't be choosers.

The last one she stops at, the one who is going to be get the final piece of alms, is but a tiny, silver-haired whelp huddling alone in the cold. His body is worn, his clothes tattered and his hair only moderately clean for someone of his standing. The giantess bows down before him, cowering just about the entirety of his field of vision with her parasol. Still, in this position, the madam easily towers over him as she reaches for her basket. The chocolate eyes still hold his gaze as the hand rummages until it grabs around the crinkling paper covering the warm snack.

Along with the paper wrapped around it, she hands it to him with no words attached to this gesture. Her lips, painted red as always, are but a flat line and her body exudes impatience. The chocolate eyes that hold the boy's turquoise ones are the only signs of kindness in her exterior.

Tomie hovers for a while over this boy, this unfortunate sufferer, for a bit longer than she is accustomed to; the odd serenity to his decrepit and frigid body fascinates her. Perhaps this husk even has an identity. "What's your name?" Distant and callous is her voice, disassociating with the empathetic action she has just performed.

His head tilted back to gaze up depressingly at the bleak sky. Was it his imagination? Given how it looked the youth was pretty sure he felt that tiny speck of water that you felt every so often before the floodgates of the grey clouds opened wide. It was typical, it was not enough that he lacked food, he would lack proper shelter to fend off a thorough soaking. Last time he had been ill for a good month or so after being drenched through to the bone in the last sudden deluge that he had been unfortunate enough to have been caught in. Maybe it would be better if he found somewhere to keep dry whilst he still could. He was hungry but hunger and sickness was an all in all worse combination. Tomorrow was another day; he could try to gather something then.

His eyes were once more drawn to the elegant lady as she opened up her parasol. She was a lucky one for sure; it would be amazing to own something similar to that. If he had something like that, he would not need to worry about light showers. That said, he had seen enough to know that it would bring about a whole slew of different problems. It would never be so uncommon to see someone mugged, their possessions robbed forcibly from them if they did not have the capacity or the influence to protect them from that dark side of Rukongai. Living was an everyday struggle for a slew of individual in the district and this was not even close to the poverty and brutality of the deeper, darker districts. He did not take much positives from that fact though, it did not make anything better for his daily life.

What was this though? Was it possible that today was a day in which a ray of fortune might glaze over his pitiful self? The lady full of poise was actually paying the unfortunate more than her fleeting attention but she was freely giving to some of the other who lurked around looking for anything like himself.

His grey gaze trailed her as she walked from person to person gifting some items she had purchased to the grateful faces. Despite her immense kindness in her gesture, she seemed impassive. Her seeming absence of interest in her actions was odd but not one to judge that. She was kind enough to help out those less fortunate than herself and that made her a good person in his eyes.

Phasing out for a moment, he looked up again to see the woman standing over him. It was only really then that he noticed just how much of a dominant figure she was, towering over him her, her full drawn height significantly taller that himself. Her presence intimidated him, his hands clutching his knees a little tighter, his body drawn in a little closer. Despite that he maintained polite eye contact with the tall lady.

Bowing down her hand rustled around in her basket, her eyes refuse to leave his whilst she did so. Her gaze kept his own silvery stare on her eyes. Quietly he sat until she withdrew her hand with the addition of an object wrapped in brown paper. The steam gave away that it was something hot, something edible as his gaze flicked to it for a short moment before linking with her chocolate brown eyes again. Her hand offered it to him and after a short moment of hesitation, in case she wanted to change her mind. It was her food after all. His small hand reached out and quickly took the offering. Although her eyes seemed friendly enough, the rest of her did not.

Yuichiro was now lucky enough to have been gifted something to eat, a faint smile made a brief appearance on his lips as he looked up again at the lady who had given him today’s lifeline. Bowing his head deeply, his forehead touching his knees he whispered, “Thank you very much”. Unlike the others though, the tall woman remained, still hovering over Yuichiro. What was it that she wanted with him? His head rose to meet her eyes again. Did she want some kind of payment for the food? Something in return. That was fine too so long as she let him keep the hot snack.

A question posed, a stern voice that showed that they were not friends. With the question asked Yuichiro would answer in a quiet, soft tone, a thankful smile in on his lips and in his eyes. “Yuichiro. Hanae Yuichiro is my name kind lady. Thank you again for the food. Thank you. Thank you…” His body trembled a little, the woman unnerved him but it was not only that. His hunger could now be abated, albeit only in the immediate but it had been bad. Worse than it had ever been before. He was so grateful to this woman, she had no idea how much he needed that small offering.

He eager took the snack from the paper and began to eat as his hands tremored. It was like a breath of fresh air after being forced underwater. It felt like a lifeline. A hint of a tear could be seen in the corner of his eyes, his cheeks touched by rose. He could not help but to say it once again.

“Thank you…”

"Hanae Yuichiro," she repeats with pursed lips, rising ever so slightly from her hunched position into an angle far more suited for a lady like herself. "It's a good name. Carry it with pride, child." To be perfectly honest, she had not anticipated that any of these beggars would carry family names of any significance or even a second name at all. These people who have nothing, still had stories to tell. That is something Hanae Yuichiro reminds her of. He still carries a legacy of what he used to be, before death or even after. It is not necessarily a prominent one, but it's a legacy nonetheless. Maybe that is what young Mister Hanae is carrying on his back when he walks from corner to corner to find shelter. A light burden would be advantageous in a situation like this. No pride, no reason to raise his gaze from the ground. For all that matters, he could keep it there for the in perpetuity; it is more practical that way.

"Enjoy your meal." The aloof words that leave her lips are more akin to a command than an encouragement, as the madam clad in elegant robes adjusts her posture, becoming but a towering statue over the pale-haired, dewy-eyed child. Callous fingers loosen their grip around the handle of the parasol, twirling it ever so impatiently. The stone-mask carefully placed over her face, complete with a red wax seal over her lips, which lets out carefully censored strips of dialogue and keeping the improper sealed within, conceal any genuine emotion. Only the twiddling of fingers unveil a slight sensation of something other than frost: intrigue. The raggedy boy has caught her eye and more importantly, her interest. There is something about him, not visually, auditory or olfactory that draws her to him; it is as if Hanae Yuichiro's very being exudes a soothing energy. Even to someone as eloquent as her, finding words to describe the sensation is difficult.

"Take care of yourself, Hanae Yuichiro," she says with the coy smile of a geiko, a learned trait, stiff and dishonest, as she turns her heel. "And find some shelter. The rain will resume soon enough." Light pitter-patter has already started drumming on her oil-paper parasol, the heavy cumulus above having started to unload. With these words of farewell, Tomie turns and walks towards the gate in the distance. She wants to get inside before it starts pouring and perhaps just spend the rest of the day in her futon, although that is asinine, given the overflow of duties awaiting at home.

She checks her basket one final time to ensure that she has gotten everything she needs. The list-turned-rhyme she had in mind when she came to the market is all but gone at this point. Beets? Apples? Fish? Sweet potatoes? Whatever it was she needed, she is certain that the groceries will be sufficient for at least a few more days, at least judging by the weight of the wooden basket. Unlike the pieces of meat that she had given the beggars and Mister Hanae. In a few hours or so, their stomachs would be just as empty as they had been before they encountered her.

It is with these thoughts of unfairness in mind, she exits the gate, leaving the settlement behind and starts to follow the road leading back to refuge from the rain. Her thoughts go to those who does not have the luxury to do so, Hanae Yuichiro in particular. The sense of attachment she had experienced is nothing beyond unreasonable; she has to blur his face out when she comes home, mix it up with the features of the other withered.

She doesn't need another person she feels compelled to care for. Her establishment is already full of people like that. Besides, he would eventually grow up to be a repulsive thug or an unruly snob, so taking him under her wing would be futile; this chick would just have to learn to fly on his own.

Time passes by and life goes on much the same for Yuichiro. Today he found himself at the edge of a nearby stream. After rinsing his body, he took out a small section of cloth and body it around his bruised side hoping the compression would help reduce the swelling. It smarted to the touch but what could he say? It was penance for his actions. With a sigh he returned to the marketplace, he had been given a task to do by one of the shop owners. All he had to do was carry some goods from their storage to the store and in return Yuichiro would be given a few coins, food for the day and after a humble request, some ointment to help his side heal up a little faster.

Back and forth he went, carrying the large wooden crates. He stumbled a few times along the way under the weight, his small and fragile frame unsuited to the heavy lifted. It did not matter though, he had to make ends meet somehow and this was a legitimate way to go about doing that. He wanted to avoid the bruises as best as he could. A few hours passed and Yuichiro had transported the last of the goods. With that done he got a handful of coins, enough to buy food and water for a few days. In a small brown paper there was a few fresh bread rolls and a block of cheese as well as the promised tub of ointment. Yuichiro gave his thanks and wandered off to find somewhere to sit down to rest.

Sitting on a nearby bench, he took out a roll and tore a sizeable piece off to eat with a piece of cheese. It was hugely satisfying to have no worries about an empty stomach today. The bread was still warm, having only just come out from a stone oven only a few minutes ago. If he had some butter to go with it, it would be heavenly. He had cheese to enjoy with it though so he was not complaining at all, it was more than enough to keep him happy.

Finishing the roll he and started on, he kept the other roll and the remnants of the cheese in the bag for later. Instead he took out the glass tub of ointment and untied the string holding the makeshift paper lid. Dabbing his fingers into some of the menthol scented liquid, he rubbed it into the purple streak. Wincing, he continued to massage it into the skin. It was rather difficult though, his arm twisted as it was would not reach far enough around his back to cover the entirety of the bruise.

He sighed before continuing the process of rubbing it in where he could. Maybe afterwards he could get some fresh fruits as a treat, he did enjoy a crisp, sweet apple. Maybe he would give the old lady the money that he owed her if he was feeling guilty enough. The sharp pain in his back was making that a less appealing choice though.

// 10 GP

// 43 Total GP

"Good day, Hanae Yuichiro."

The resonant voice cuts through the silent atmosphere surrounding the boy sitting on the bench, who otherwise seems too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice the woman's stealthy approach. She stands not too far away from the boy, a few meters at most, close to a tree sapling braving the nutritionally poor soil. Once more, she shields herself from the above with the elegant parasol with the unusually thick handle, but this time from the sun's relentless rays, not rain. The delicately painted lips remain the same, as does her vaguely unkempt hair. This time around, she is wearing far more comfortable shoes: ornate, but simple zori instead of the thick okobo; the kimono is different as well, a dour azure with floral pattern.

With little haste, she makes her way towards the bench and occupies the spot next to the boy. "It has been a while. How have you been?" For once, the question is not merely one of tatamae; it is formulated with genuine curiosity rooted in their fated reunion. While she does see the same faces at the market frequently, due to the low mobility of people, she tends to see them in that context all the time, where they are the recipients of her surplus. This is no such situation. Now, they meet as acquaintances, with her already knowing his name.

It's not common for her to strike up a casual conversation with anyone, however, even if she knows their names. She might offer them a glance at best, and ignore them altogether at worst; she is a capricious creature, prone to the shifting whims of mood.

But Hanae Yuichiro is not common at all, as her mind had established in their previous encounter. She tried to analyse the memories of the boy extensively when she got home and had ample time for herself, but she hadn't found any obvious characteristics that made him in any shape or form 'special'. He is just as raggedy, hunched and lean as the rest of the beggars, so he should be no different. Yet, he still is. Perhaps this is why she decided to sit down next to him and have a chat instead of ignoring him when she had caught his silhouette in the corner of her eye as she strolled through the town.

She had made plans when she came here, and still intends to execute them. These plans, however, do not require the burden of a basket, unlike the last time she had come to the market. Today, she has scheduled an appointment with the resident tailor, as is custom once every month or so, to order new kimonos for her employees, in addition to handing in some old fabrics that need mending. Fortunately, none needs this currently, allowing her to travel with her hands free. Well, hand. The left hand is occupied by the parasol, as it would have been regardless of the circumstances.

The brown eyes peer into the boy's own, head cocked ever so slightly to an awkward angle, emulating an owl. "Are you taking care of yourself?" The tone is softer than it had been when she had first met him, more polite, but still not inviting; she still wishes to distance herself from him and remain perfect strangers.

Tomie Magahara does not need a new person in her life to care for. For if there's anything the empathetic bouts in her past have taught her, it is that people are disappointing and apt at causing harm. Her body is covered in enough scars as is.

Yuichiro did not notice the approach of the woman so her voice suddenly appearing behind him startled him into dropping the tub of ointment, the one that he had just finished closing thankfully. The voice was a familiar one though, one that he had taken note to remember as he only had a voice to put to the face as opposed to a name to put to the face. He looked up to see the person whom Yuichiro had encountered not so long ago.

“Ah! Good day to you too madam.”

Quickly he straightened his old clothing as he placed the glass tub back into the brown paper bag before politely bowing to the lady. She held the same elegant parasol that was in her possession that day and once again she was dressed in an elegant set of cloths. Yuichiro was mildly surprised by the fact that she not only remembered who he was but that she actively spoke to him. Normally he was a face to be ignored like all the others, he was part of a number whose faces were blank, a number who remained nameless. And despite that fact, here she was before him.

The woman moved towards him and once more surprised him in sitting next to him on the bench. It unnerved him but more than that it made him happy. Beaming on the inside was suppressed on the outside where a faint smile sat upon his face. Even with that still, it was as if the young soul was radiating with happiness from that simple fact. “I’ve been okay, thank you. And yourself? I do hope you’ve been well.” Fidgeting a little, his fingers twiddling and entwining with themselves he glanced up at her face smiling before quickly looking down at his feet continuing to play with his hands.

Yuichiro was not used to such company. Why would a lady like her want to associate with someone like himself? It almost made him feel ashamed sitting beside her; as if his presence would sully her own. There was a question though that he just had to ask her this time. She was such a kind lady, just her coming to speak to him was a great act of kindness to him in a way that she probably did not realize. Before he could speak up though a question was directed his way first as he gazed up at her, his silver eyes drawn to her brown.

“I – I’m doing my best!” He responded quickly, almost reflexively before his smile slowly faded away to a smile that only reached his lips. The sting in his side reared its ugly head and forced its way to the forefront of his mind. “I’m okay. It’s hard but I’m managing. I try really hard! I even did some work for someone today, ha ha!” He sounded chipper and cheery but no one needed to point out that it was merely a front. It was a hard and horrible life and he barely scraped by. Skin and bones and a hope for the stars to align and something to change, that was what he was.

“I’m very sorry that I haven’t asked you your name.” He did not sound confident in his asking but ask he did anyway. “I hope you don’t mind me asking.” He wanted to know just who this woman was, this person who had shown an interest in him. He wanted to know the name of the person whom all of a sudden decided that Yuichiro was someone worth talking to.

At his side he retrieved the bag with his day’s prize and opened it. It was only something small and it probably was beneath her but he offered it up anyway. “I – I have some bread and cheese here. Y - you can take a piece if you want. The bread’s probably still warm”

The boy does seem to have his manners intact, she notes, as the boy properly greeted her the moment she arrived to talk to him. In fact, he even got up and bowed for her to show her the gesture of considering her his superior, despite the fact that doing so caused him to drop some sort of box he appeared to be previously preoccupied with. It is nice to see kids having proper manners these days, even if they have basically been raised on the streets. He had even bothered to put away whatever he dropped afterwards into a tiny bag.

She doesn't see anything else than the bag and the boy's clothes in his vicinity. Could it be that those are his only belongings? She certainly wouldn't expect him to have any other items that he could consider his for a long period of time, not in this den of packless wolves. They would take advantage of anything and anyone who walks around with a scrap of meat, guided by their keen noses and hungry eyes.

"I have been fine as well, busy, but fine," she beams forcefully, parasol resting against the bench's back support and her right shoulder. "Thank you for asking, Mister Hanae." The boy appears to be enjoying her company, although he is twitching and fidgeting with every nerve in his body. He doesn't meet her gaze all too often, even as she attempts to soften her eyes so they can have a proper conversation with him. Mister Hanae appears to enjoy looking at his own hands more than her face. Not too well-raised, then, but that is anything but incomprehensible.

As she had addressed him regarding his being of well, not just how he is feeling in the moment, Tomie sees it in the eyes gradually drawn into hers. The hesitancy, the uncertainty, the doubt sprouting from a seed planted deep in his past. This child is not accustomed to looking people in the eye, more so begging with his head facing the ground, either intimately or from a distance. She sees no pride nor humility, merely a desire to survive, scratch out a niche in the tree. Not unlike her at one point.

Eyes dart over to the boy's body as he stops mid-sentence, smile turning jagged as the muscles stretch. It's a brief expression of pain, but she catches it nonetheless. Once more Tomie's eyes surveys the boy's sitting silhouette. The nervous laughter just sells it. Of course. That's what the bowl that fell earlier was. Salve or ointment. There is something else than just overpowering, uncaring brown in her eyes now. There is a slight contraction in her eyebrows that scrunches the upper portions of her face, but only barely; there is no radical shift in mood. "You are hurt. What happened?"

She makes no effort to approach the boy or somehow intrude his personal space, instead remaining a perfectly placid flower on her side of the bench, parasol corolla on blooming above her. Her eyes reach out to him, though, the antipathetic veil they had been covered with has faded, if only a little. An inquiry regarding her identity soon follows suit; the boy likely wants to smooth over this sign of weakness. Perhaps he wants to avoid the carnivorous fish swimming the sea and let his head remain above water. Tomie is no fish. She is a migrating bird who witnesses the spectacle from the skies with a different perspective, different customs.

"Oh, that is right," she muses, partly to him, partly to herself, eyes trailing upwards. "I did not properly introduce myself last time. My name is Magahara Tomie." She doesn't bow nor look down. The madam stares him straight in the eye, after turning her attention away from the sky. An abbess bows for no monk, after all. To him, her esteemed name carries no meaning. It is but a designation for an individual who stands above him, the one who grovels in rabble. Perhaps it would, though, some time soon.

A kind gesture, but a tad too selfless. Tomie did not particularly desire to consume some of the child's hard-earned food alongside him, as she knows that he needs every piece of it. So she brings up her palm and shakes it back and forth while turning her head the other way. "I appreciate the offer, but it is not long since I ate." Polite, overly so. Not even remotely true either. She can smell the bread from over there, nigh fresh and still warm, according to Mister Hanae.

While the boy eats, Tomie inspects his clothes thoroughly. They are in quite decent shape for a street rat's garbs, but nothing to write home about. The fabric appears to be patched and sewed together on multiple places. Hanae Yuichiro could use some new footwear as well, she notes. This coincides well with her plans for the day. A new yukata and straw zori won't cost her much. With a sigh, she initiates the proposition. "I am visiting the town today because I have an appointment with a tailor to order new kimono for my employees. Once you finish eating, would you care to accompany me? I wouldn't mind sparing a few kan for a new yukata and some shoes." She gesticulates towards his feet and the garb he is currently dressed in. "Take your time, however. We are by no means in a hurry." The statement is accompanied by a rigid, but reassuring smile.

The kind lady, had been busy but fine. It raised the question in the young soul's mind, what did she do? It was a question that he would hold till later. It was not just his imagination but his companion seemed less distant, her eyes were more inviting than they were before. It was pleasant to be looked at by someone above him and not be regarded as plain old trash.

It was rather obvious that he was hurting, he gave it away and covered the fact up miserably. He was hurt and she could tell and she had asked what happened. A bitter-sweet smile found its way onto Yuichiro's face. Why indeed, why was he hurt. The thought tormented him. He was hurt because deserved it. He was hurt because karma had a sharp sting to it, a sting that graced his side multiple times. It was a sad fact that he at times had no choices in life. At times it was nothing but do or die. If that was his punishment for wanting to live then so be it. It was one that he would have to take no matter how much he hated himself for it. The fact of the matter was he was ashamed of his plight, ashamed that he had to resort to theft to survive. If he could, he would pay for everything he needed. Hell, he would pay for others as well. But he could not do that. His reply was not a lie, at least not him himself but he could not bring himself to speak earnestly about how get got those bruises. "It's... okay. It's nothing much. I deserved it..." Yuichiro eyes found the floor as he quietly spoke. 

His offer of food to the lady who he now knew as Magahara Tomie was politely declined. Maybe she did not want to take food from such a scruffy person but she was kind, it was probably her choosing to decline so he could have more to eat. After all she was someone who could eat meat and fish and other luxuries on a daily basis was she not? Her name, Yuichiro would lock that name away and etch it permanently into his memory. The few people Yuichiro knew consisted of a handful of people like himself, in a similar position with similar circumstances. Some had died, some had no name. There was not much to want to or even need to remember down where he resided.

What followed was something which genuinely shocked Yuichiro. Not only did she ask for his company, she offered to pay for him to get a new yukata and shoes. Yuichiro's clothes were worn, they were not terrible like some of the scraps of cloth, makeshift clothing seen on so many people on the streets but they were old and well used. They had been repaired when damaged and kept relatively clean but they were undoubtedly in long need of replacement. It was a gracious offer that he chose to happily accept. A beam found its way onto his face as he gazed up at her, the happiness in his eyes clear. That all said, he was still hesitant. After all there was nothing he could pay her back with. "Are... are you sure? I mean, I'm extremely grateful and would love that but is it really okay?" He was cheerful but still apprehensive, he did not want to trouble her. 

//576 Words

//11 GP

//67 Total GP  

So he boy 'deserved' the pain that had been inflicted on him. What could possibly have made him feel like he deserved whatever pain was inflicted on him? Him, the vagabond in the city of wandering souls? Knowing that people like Hanae Yuichiro would often have to resort to questionable means to get by, there is one prime explanation that pops into the madam's mind: theft. It is not exactly unheard of that homeless hobos will occasionally attempt to snatch goods from stores and stands in a fit of desperation, most frequently hunger. Too bad for the thieves that they would often be apprehended if they ever frequented the area again.

Perhaps this is what the boy had done. Maybe he had stumbled and been caught, maybe he had been short-sighted. Regardless of what had transpired, it seems like his attempt at bettering himself through questionable means had caused repercussions.

Her eyes narrow as they burrow into the boy with a sunken head and shame-riddled body language. This certainly will be the first time I decide to help a thief. Her moral compass is going amok, alerting her of just how wrong it would be for someone like her, a phoenix brought up from the ashes, to mingle with not only an outcast child, but a criminal as well. But a part of her knows that Hanae Yuichiro wants to repent. He is obviously feeling shame for his actions; as a matter of fact, he even claims to have deserved it.

Besides, even though she had picked up what the boy likely referred to, what the boy said was only a vague insinuation of what the cause of his injuries, so she ignores it.



Unsurprisingly, the boy appears to be genuinely shocked by her offer to pay for new clothes and shoes, beaming up like a beacon upon processing the information. With a simple nod of her head, eyes still zooming in on the boy, unaffected, she confirms. "Yes, I am certain. Yukata are cheap, as are shoes. If you want to make a positive impression anywhere, you simply cannot parade around in those dusty old clothes." An accusing finger runs over the eating boy's figure, gesticulating towards his worn clothing. "You cannot make a good first impression when wearing those. People will regard you as beneath them."

Just like I did. The tone is harsh, sharp and tries to dig beneath the boy's exterior into his naive psyche, a nail of indoctrination into the blank woodwork of his mind. "I'll see to it that you pick good ones. After all," However, as mean as the criticism may seem, her face holds no accusation; it is as placid as ever, eyes slightly droopy, mouth poignantly red.

"Presentation counts as a matter of style."

With that line, she finishes the lecture. To be fair, he likely doesn't need extensive advice regarding the way he should dress, because it is not like he voluntarily chooses to wear these worn clothes. Nonetheless, he will definitely require her assistance at the tailor, otherwise he might pick something that is either too flashy, too expensive or too tedious. Tomie does not worry that he'll waste her money, but that a priced yukata would make him a target of his fellow vagabonds. Dog eat dog world, after all.

She waits alongside the boy until he finishes the meal he had been given, meager as it is, before she makes her way across the street, into a side-alley where a moderately large building constructed with redwood is located. The walk is brief and she doesn't bother making small-talk with the tag-along boy. She also knows that if she had looked around herself as opposed to constantly in front, she would have noticed people looking at her - the frosty businesswoman - accompanied by some vagabond kid. What were they thinking? Indoctrinated patterns of thinking manifest as Tomie considers the things they might say about her, the rumors they might spread.

But in a classic fit of classist arrogance, she deems their thoughts beneath her. They are insignificant.

"Well, here we are." A slender white arm drags the shouji to the side, unveiling the chambers within. Immediately, they are greeted by a person shouting "welcome", with Tomie promptly ignoring them and entering the shop, looking at the silken fabrics attached to coat hangers alongside the wall. One of the very few useful Western inventions, as a matter of fact. "Feel free to browse. I need to talk to the tailor regarding my appointment." Initiating a conversation with the man behind the counter, she points to the boy while maintaining a low-key voice.

The man bows, then heads for the backroom.

She returns to the boy's side, folded parasol resting on her shoulder. "Have you seen anything you like yet?" She doesn't want to bother him and imply that she wants this to be done and over quick, but she would love to help him pick. It is an implicit way for her to reach out her hand and help him, but also correct him in case of a poor choice.

Fashion is, after all, one of her areas of expertise.

"Thank you very much. I'll accept your kind offer then ma'am." Yuichiro gave a short curt bow before he happily headed along with the tall lady.

Following along, Yuichiro entered the clothing store rather tentatively. Places like this were like forms of luxury to him. The best he would come to getting new clothing would be to save up what little money he could to purchase some cloth and materials to patch something up of his own creation. He was not too bad at patching up clothing but making things for scratch was a bit more tricky. In fact the simple shoes on his feet were a product of his own labour. They were rather beat up and worn after the amount of use now, getting a new pair would be a treat. The same could be said about his well used yukata. Having been prompted to look around, Yuichiro nodded politely. "Thank you. I'll have a look around."

The shoes were a simple choice and they were the first thing he chose to browse. They had a number of different pairs but Yuichiro picked out a cheap pair of plain geta with a sturdy looking hanao, something that would be useful in the long term. The more difficult choice lay in picking out a yukata. Yuichiro was very conscious of the fact that he was not the person actually buying, he was merely receiving them as a gift, a gesture of good will. Beyond the fact that he never was one to frequent such places, he was also bothered by the price tags. To her, perhaps they were inexpensive but through Yuichiro's viewpoint these were expensive items and he did not want to e a burden to someone who had been generous enough as it was even by simply spending a little time with him.

Yuichiro was so lost in his thoughts that he did not notice when the parasol lady returned, startled by the sudden appearance. It left him with not enough time to get rid of the slightly troubled expression on his face. "Ah, sorry. I was a little lost in my thoughts." He held up the geta in his hands to show her the one thing he had picked out. "I have these here. As for a yukata I... I'm not sure what would be a good choice." He ruffled his hair with his free hand with a shy smile on face. It would certainly be a lot easier if she chose a yukata for him, at least that way she would chose something that she hopefully did not mind paying for, it would certainly make his choice a lot easier.

He shuffled side to side, his gaze moving around from place to place. He felt a little out of his element and it was clear that he needed a little assistance. Even with that all said and done, Yuichiro had an ever growing warmth in his chest, happy for the days events.

She was such a lovely person, even if she seemed a little intimidating at times.

Even as she drags the kid into this fancy shop, a shop he wouldn't even dream of entering without being ferried out by the angry staff with brooms for being incapable of reading the atmosphere and entering just to window shop, he doesn't truly seem grateful. More gawking than excited.

He doesn't appear to be a bad kid, a bit of a brat perhaps, as most kids are in her eyes, but it never occurred to her that he would steal out of anything other than food he deemed necessary to sate his hunger. His moral compass seems mostly intact, which is why she felt like buying him new clothes and through that, giving him more opportunities that could bring him out of the streets.

But it seems like he doesn't even know what to pick where he stands, his attention shifting from fabric to fabric.

She had even consulted with the shopkeeper and presented the list of items she wanted to a second clerk who arrived as the man headed out back to check on the supplies before heading in Yuichiro's direction, to give him proper thinking time and freedom to choose the garment of his liking. The clerk had shot the child odd looks over the madam's shoulder as she elaborated on some of her orders, but the gazes had ceased when she explained that the boy was with her to the girl. She had hoped he would have made up his mind by the time she finished. Yet, there he still stands, fidgeting and twitching.

So he is not certain what would be a good fit for him, hmm? I suppose I'll just have to make a swift decision, then. While this is in her thoughts, Tomie knows that she cannot pick an ill-fitting yukata for the boy. Doing so would be the ultimate self-insult to her impeccable sense of style and haunt her for as long as she can remember the boy. "A good fit" is a rather vague term, though, she ponders in solitude as her hands browse through the racks of fabric hung from the walls, examining patterns, colors, quality, length, all qualities that would matter in how Hanae Yuichiro would be presented.

A fancy yukata would by no means be a "good fit" in this case, as a solitary figure wearing an expensive-looking piece of clothing would be an easy target for criminals and stand out quite a bit; but she is also no cheapskate. If the boy's walking away in the robe of the poorest quality, she would look like a pandering fool who exudes altruism only when she thinks she can receive good publicity. There is also the matter of color. With his particular hair, skin and eyes, the boy would likely not look good in warm colors. No, she feels something cool suits him better.

Her fingers stop near a navy blue yukata with a simple pattern, stylish but not extravagant. The quality of the material is fine, far superior to the rags the boy is currently wearing. She gesticulates towards the clerk to come remove it from the wall for the boy to see. She takes it in her arms, holding it gently as to not crinkle the fabric. "How about this one, Hanae?" Her voice carries the question as a robot would, distant and callous.

The bell attached to the door rings with loud defiance as two figures enter the shop, loud laughter accompanying their arrival. They are clad in all black, swords at their hip, pouches of jingling coins attached to the straps of the scabbards. One points at the clothing, letting out an expletive of an adjective as she just about runs up to it, remarking on its beauty.

Tomie Magahara turns her back entirely on these hooligans, leaving only her imposing silhouette visible to them. Her body becomes a wall between the impressionable child and these tourists on duty, blocking his view entirely and leaving only the flowing robe dangling in front of him. "This would do nicely, don't you think?" She parrots herself, pushing him even closer to a snap decision.

Her mouth is smiling, crescent red, softening her otherwise dour face. But her eyes. Her eyes are seething with flames, frothing with resentment towards the freshly arrived pawns of their tyrannical government as they gaze down upon the white-haired child, nearly smothering him with an ocean of cloth.

The madam’s assistance was wanted by the young soul and her assistance he got. Shopping like this was not a common pastime of Yuichiro’s and there was no denying that it was making him uncomfortable. Having someone else pick out clothing for him was a boon. Now she could pick something that would be cost effective to her and with any luck, the yukata that she picked out would look decent on him.

She sifted through the different fabrics of the shop as Yuichiro quietly followed behind, actively trying to avoid the eye line of the shop’s clerk. Clearly she has not impressed with his presence n the store. Another reason to be uncomfortable, he was always going to be judged. With any luck though, it only extended to him and that his presence was not going to tarnish that of his generous benefactor’s.

It did not take long for her to make a choice. From the many articles on display, she picked out a navy blue yukata, far better than the comparative rags he currently wore She beckoned for the clerk who removed it from the rest. It was held up for him to see as she posed the question to him. A slight glow graced the cheeks of Yuichiro. Truly, he appreciated the kindness of the lady. Never before had anyone gone out of there way to speak to him and then to buy him new clothing. Perhaps she wanted something from him and now this was a debt to be collected in the future. Perhaps it was just a gift, given with altruistic thoughts in mind, no strings attached. Either way, he was immensely grateful.

Yuichiro too, was distracted by the ringing of the bell as new customers entered the store. It was clear who they were at a glance, Shinigami adorned in their oh so familiar uniform, sheathed blades hanging at their sides, recalling his memories they were known as Zanpakutou, the name they gave to the weapons they all possessed. They were loud and brazen in attitude and Yuichiro felt himself shrink at little with their arrival.

It became apparent to Yuichiro very quickly that the tall female was somewhat irked by their presence; her body language speaking volumes as she turned her back completely on them, blocking his view of them as she pressed an answer from him. It felt more of a command than a question to Yuichiro, not that he minded. He was simply grateful to receive the clothing. Who was he to say no, after all the clothes that she had picked out for him were hardly something he could complain about. in fact he quite liked the colour and the material was of a much higher quality than what currently clung to his diminutive figure.

The Shinigami bustled around, moving past them both. Yuichiro met the eyes of the pair curiously before turning back to Tomie Magahara. Whilst she smiled at him, her eyes spoke a different language and the contrast was quite clear to Yuichiro. Not wanting to bother her with pointless chatter or any requests, he simply nodded and smiled back. "I think it's wonderful, thank you very much." He bowed politely before shuffling to her side, just a little behind her. Yuichiro wondered what her relationship with the Shinigami was that she would react in such a manner. It was a question in his mind but not one for now and probably not one for today either.

However the pair of rather rowdy customers were not just satisfied with browsing through the clothing on sale; there was fun to be had, amusement at the expense of the other two in the store. The female turned to face them, eyeing them both giving them the once over before she turned to her companion and very deliberately shook her head, a simulated look of disdain on her face. Facing the clerk she loudly exclaimed, "I didn't think that this was the type of store that allowed 'pets' inside." The male let out an obnoxious, haughty laugh. "Ha ha, very good point, very good!" A nasty smirk surfaced on his face as he continued the jibe. "Though we could be wrong, perhaps he... serves another purpose, if you know what I mean, huh?" Laughter sounded throughout the store as Yuichiro shrank into himself, his gaze travelling to the floor as the two alternated between themselves in dishing out crude humour. "I'll give you a few coins if you want and take him off your hands! You wouldn't mind sharing would you? After all we do you so many favours as it is, perhaps offering money was too generous." The clerk was clearly uncomfortable with the situation but did little to stop them, only a faint mutter of "Esteemed customers please...".