Welcome to Tokyo, Japan. January, 1991. The world has entered the technology era, portable phones, home computers, internet, video games. Japan quickly became the epicenter of the latest and greatest. Companies and factories flourished. Where money was, people followed. And while many rose to live a comfortable, happy, and delightful life from this new found money... Others did not. You see, money has this effect on people that can't be outdone. People will do anything for it. And when it starts slipping into the wrong hands, it's impossible to stop. Benethe the day time laborers and the double-shift workers, a seedy underbelly of syndicates exists. Narctics, black market, organized crime, money laundering, you name it and it's been growing as fast as the upper world economy. While many do it just to stay alive, there's those who make it their posh lifestyle. Either way, there's only one question. What would you do if the money was good enough?
JAN 29 2021: Welcome!! ƎLEMENT has been open for two weeks now and we're so happy to see such a bright beginning! If you're new feel free to drop into the discord and say hi before joining.
"What the fu- Fucking weirdo." [break][break] Don't. [break][break] "God, girls are so fucking weird. You want me to take advantage of you?" [break][break] Keep calm. [break][break] "And who's the one assuming here, creep?" [break][break] Stop letting him get to you. [break][break] "Little rude to call someone homeless without really knowing, huh?" [break][break] He's just a stupid punk. [break][break] "You don't know what I do and don't eat." [break][break] He's not worth your time. [break][break] "Get a fuckin' filter." [break][break] Don't. [break][break] "Why don't you take that money you were gonna pity toss me and put it towards your bail for when they finally catch up with you." [break][break] Don't... [break][break] "Or would your dad buy you out of that, too?" [break][break] Fuck it. [break][break] Sachi stalked right up to him, stepping over that tossed shoe, fire in her gaze. She was nose-to-nose with him in a second, quietly seething, that last comment in particular fueling the flames of her ire. For a moment she contemplated just punching him in the face... or maybe just kneeing him in the groin. It would definitely be satisfying, that was for sure. [break][break] But there was still that little voice in the back of her head that felt pity for the guy, that innately good side of the younger Morita that kept that stubborn rage as a dull rumble instead of a roar. And so instead of acting out, instead of violently thrashing at this aggravating-as-hell man, she, in one swift motion, tugged out the wallet in her back pocket and shoved a pair of 10,000 yen notes against his chest. [break][break] "Go to hell, asshole," she grumbled, "and use this to take a fucking shower; maybe if you smell better, it'll overshadow that shitty attitude and you won't end up a fucking corpse in an alley." [break][break] And she spun on her heels, releasing the bills, not giving a shit whether he managed to catch them or let them drop. She stalked in the opposite direction, body tense as she forced herself just to walk the fuck away, slipping back on her shoe as she passed it. [break][break] Not worth my fucking time...
Ah, the rush of good company, an all too familiar and beloved sensation. Lee had always been a fan favorite of the younger Morita, that creative range and those chaotic undertones an enticing combination. Standing in that after-show glow, playing alone with her little bout of theatrics, she was once again reminded of how charming his presence was. [break][break] "Of course, my liege!" she cooed back, that same dramatic tone laced with her building laughter as she very briefly popped down on one knee. [break][break] Those floors were certainly not the cleanest, though, and Sachi was up in a flash, airy giggles lilting from her and mixing with Lee's in the space between them. As he spoke, she retrieved her drink, left discarded momentarily at the nearby bar. With little to no regard for the potential of something slipped in it--it was a decent-enough place and it had only been a second, right?--she wrapped her lips around the end of her straw and took a long sip of that tropical concoction. [break][break] "Of course I am," she replied easily enough to the compliment, shimmying her hips a bit, skirt flaring on one side and then the other. "What about you Mr. Sweaty-Rockstar-Mess?" she teased, smile arching around her straw as she gestured to that rough-and-tumble, after-show look he bore. "You're making the temperature rise by at least a few degrees, I'm sure." [break][break] She shot him a playful wink before reaching forward and snatching up his wrist, tugging him back towards the bar with her. The men she'd been prepared to snip at were all but forgotten, at least to Sachi, but their confused gazes still followed her form until she and Lee were at that countertop together, some form of dawning realization overcoming their features. [break][break] "Come on, let me buy you a drink," she cooed, finishing off the last bit of tropical paradise and sliding it to the inner curvature of the bar. A teasing nudge reached his side as she added, "Unless Mr. Bigshot over here is getting free drinks from the venue? There's another group coming on, right? Or do you want to go somewhere else for a bit?" [break][break] She was talking at a mile a minute, happily chattering along, all too enthusiastic about a night celebrating and partying and maybe getting into a bit of trouble with that dear man.
Sachi had to snort at Milo's suggestion, wiping what little was left of her tears away as she imagined the look on that bastard's face if she'd said all that. He'd probably have passed out, the prissy asshole. She couldn't help but smirk at the thought. As much as he had been a decent lay and a good status symbol, he definitely wasn't worth the turmoil that had clearly befallen her that evening. [break][break] It was nice, too, getting a laugh from the guy. Not that she remembered... too much of their time together previously, but he had always held a rather stoic, strong, in-control place in her mind. Well, compared to her at least, which wasn't saying the most considering most of their meetings had involved her in some capacity lost in the world of intoxication. Still. it was more than a little comforting to see a bit past that exterior, to that kindness that lingered beneath the surface. She'd definitely made the right decision in coming here. [break][break] "Thank you..." she replied, a gentle sigh floating from her lips, cresting into a soft, grateful smile as she caught his eye again. That smile broadened ever so slightly at that sheepish glance away. "I still feel like crap," and she grimaced, "and that was, really, embarrassing as hell," a sigh, followed by a little breathy laugh, "but I guess this was a healthier option than the alternative. Sobbing uncontrollably for a few minutes in a stranger's apartment is probably better for me long-term than going out and getting plastered, maybe breaking a few windows, right?" [break][break] The last bit was said in some sarcastic jest, though the more she mulled over it the more bummed out she became at the thought of that initial gut reaction. It definitely wasn't unheard of, her getting through the more stressful times with violence and substance abuse. Definitely not the healthiest, but also definitely not an issue she was too keen on thinking deeply about right then and there. And so with a thought-clearing sigh, tentatively removing her grip from Milo's fabrics and running a hand through her pink locks, she shot him a sheepish look. [break][break] "I uh... I should probably get out of your hair now that I've calmed down." And she glanced around as if the secrets of his life were plastered around that little apartment space. "I uh... feel really bad for imposing. I hope you weren't doing anything important..."
Gods, could this kid get any more aggravating? That snide little remark tagged to the end of his apology sent Sachi's blood boiling. She managed, at the very least, not to go for a quick punch like her instincts begged her to, justifying the brat's behavior with some bullshit excuse that he was probably some orphan ragamuffin who was just lashing out because he was scared. Or he's just an asshole, her consciousness countered, disgruntled frown finding its way to her features even as she let the insult roll past her. [break][break] And so instead of socking him one, she listened to his explanation, frown becoming some incredulous, almost humored, expression at his attempt to justify his survival chances with his current state. He had to know he looked like shit, right? He certainly was acting like it. [break][break] And that should have been it. He should have kept up that snotty attitude and she should have just let him walk away and headed back home to pop open a bottle of wine and take some celebratory bath after getting away from the cops. She should have just left and not bothered with this piece of shit back-alley rat she'd stumbled upon. [break][break] “Don’t you have a daddy to run back to, little girl? You should probably get going before he gets worried.” [break][break] The shoe was flying from her fingers so quickly you'd have thought it had been in her hand the whole time. It wasn't a particularly hard throw, but it certainly wasn't anything delicate; you don't get pissed enough to tug off your tennis shoe and whip it at someone and then let it gently glide through the air. It managed to hit the guy right between the shoulder blades, pink brows furrowed in some continuation of that annoyed glare at his retreating form. [break][break] "You serious, asshole?" she spit in his direction, not even bothered by the grim getting onto her sock. If he turned, she made damn sure to match her emeralds with his gaze, stubbornness fueling every little twitch in her actions. "Don't assume just because I know how to take a fucking shower that I'm some prissy princess. I was actually considering buying you a fucking meal or something since you helped me out, but clearly Mr. Assumptive-Ass over here thinks he can survive on more greasy dumpster leftovers." [break][break] She paused, fuming, for the briefest of moments telling herself not to go on, to just snatch up her shoe and leave. But of course she didn't; far too easily distracted by that rush of aggression and annoyance. [break][break] "You'd think you'd be smart enough to pick up on someone you could manipulate into supporting you at the very fucking least," she snapped, flipping her middle finger his way as she critiqued his methods. "What homeless idiot bumps into a clearly well-off girl, helps her out, and doesn't try to get something out of it? You didn't even try to get something out of it, idiot!"
"Wow. Ugly on the inside, too?" [break][break] There was a distinct increase to the amount of redness in Sachi's cheeks at the comment, her entire body tensing with her anger at the man's words. She tried to look at intimidating as possible, not even attempting to hide that ire-filled glare, but it was more than a little difficult to do that when you were a full head shorter than your adversary. Still, she was pretty sure she could take him if push came to shove... maybe. [break][break] She bristled further at the spit. [break][break] "Look, I'm not really in the mood to deal with...this." [break][break] Fucking asshole... [break][break] "Try not to look like you're about to gag. I’m gonna go find somewhere to sleep before I snap but I think I did you a pretty big fucking favor helping you out after you ran into me, so apologize and I’ll get gone. Fair?” [break][break] Oh. Oh damn it all. Sachi felt the creeping chill of guilt churning in her gut. She wanted to snap back with some snarky remark in the same moment she wanted to apologize; that last comment had been a bit... much. Glancing away from that ragged form, face contorted in a stubborn pout, she grumbled out her response. [break][break] "I'm... sorry... I uh... shouldn't have said it like that..." The faintest, disconcerted murmur slipped from her lips as she mulled over what to do. The guy looked like he was about to keel over dead at any moment, and with a sharp tongue like that--one that she assumed didn't speak the native language--he probably would just get his ass beat the moment he ran into someone even minutely less tolerant than her. Finally, she added, still avoiding eye contact in some attempt to seem as disinterested as possible, "You don't speak Japanese, do you? How the hell do you expect to survive in Tokyo if you don't speak the language?"
Sachi jumped, just briefly, when Milo's arms finally moved around her, allowing that embrace, allowing her to cling to him. Her comment of too nice felt far too close to the truth in that moment, the pink lass wondering how the hell she'd gotten lucky enough to not be immediately thrown away by this kind man. She'd been nothing but a nuisance to him since they'd met, constantly barging into his life unannounced, depending on him, using him. [break][break] Heh, pathetic... [break][break] The words hurt, her belief in them far more painful. How the hell would she be able to survive out in the world if she couldn't even get through a stupid breakup with a stupid rich kid without going stupidly crying to someone else? [break][break] But despite it all, those inner thoughts still so self-deprecating, she felt far more at ease with those arms around her, with the knowledge that someone, even just a little, gave a shit about her. He's not even getting anything out of this, she quietly mused, breathing slowing a bit as that hand rubbing her back eased away a good chunk of her tension. [break][break] "...it'll be okay because it has to be." [break][break] Gods, if that wasn't the truth. A small, humorless chuckle left her at the comment, her mind taking perhaps a bit too pessimistic an angle with that one. It was going to be okay because it had to be; it had to be okay because if it wasn't, she was fucked. [break][break] "Besides...we both know he's gonna come crawling back, you can always push his shit in then." [break][break] That one elicited a bit more authentic of a laugh, the sound only slightly wavering with that lingering tightness in her throat. The idea of bashing in the guy's face had certainly been alluring--still was, honestly. She didn't quite expect him to come crawling back--guys like him generally just showed up expecting you to immediately bend to their will and apologize--but she appreciated the mental image of him physically on his knees in front of her well enough. [break][break] "Yeah... Give him that good right hook," she joked in response, finally pulling back and using what portions of her sweater sleeve was left dry to wipe at any tears lingering in the corners of her gaze. Her other hand, mostly just out of instinct, remained attached to her companion, fingers gently clinging to the hem of Milo's shirt. She sniffled a bit, still feeling pathetic, still having to quell that rising tide of self-deprecating anxiety, but the hug helped. Touch always helped. As did crying. [break][break] "Gods, I wish I could just go punch his stupid fucking face in," she mumbled, sounding like some frumpy child instead of the adult woman she actually was. The oversized sweater and puffy, post-cry features didn't help the aesthetic. She sheepishly glanced up at her new... friend... and tried for a smile. "Not that that would help much. My mother would probably have a stroke if she found out I socked Masuda Jiro." She said that last bit with a theatrical flourish and sarcastic regality to her tone, rolling her eyes in some bitter display. She actually snorted, that same bitterness in the sound. "Happy birthday Mom; I punched out the heir to a multimillion dollar fortune. Here's a card."
"Ugh, let go of me." [break][break] The English startled her, enough so that her grip loosened easily when he tugged away. Her brows knit in some annoyed expression at the foreigner's attitude, the adrenaline pumping through her veins giving her a plethora of wild ideas, stereotypes of boorish Americans flitting through her mind. Of course it had to be some asshole like this I run into, she silently bemoaned, though he, at the very least, didn't immediately go against her wishes to hide. In fact, for a moment Sachi actually thought the guy was just a bit surprised, maybe a tad scared--all completely viable reasons for him to act a little brutish. [break][break] "Listen, ugly..." [break][break] What the fuck did he just say? [break][break] Immediately, the pink-haired lass bristled, brow creasing in some immediate glare at the insult and flippant tone alike. Who the fuck did this kid think he was? As he spoke, that condescending lilt to his tone, Sachi slowly crossed her arms, looking more and more like some bratty Barbie by the second. When her hat was offered, she quickly snatched it up and returned it to her head, that bitter expression still plastered across her features. [break][break] "...You take up too much space." [break][break] Okay asshole, what's your problem?" she finally snapped back, Japanese accent thick, but her English clear as day. She silently, ironically, sent a little mental thanks to her mother for all of those damnable language lessons growing up. Without thinking, that adrenaline still just spiking through her veins, she reached forward and prodded the guy's shoulder with her hand, glare intensifying. "It's not like that was an entire fucking inconvenience. No need to be a piece of shit about it. Who do you even think you--?" [break][break] Sachi's voice immediately cut off as the sound of footsteps once again grew. Wide emeralds glanced towards the sound, her body pressing against the wall of the alley as if that would hide her, attention momentarily distracted from the pissy bastard standing beside her. When the footsteps receded, though, and no one came a-strolling close to them, her attention once again turned to the American. [break][break] "Like I was saying, who do you--?" [break][break] She stopped again, her hushed growl cut short as she finally let her eyes wander the ragged form before her. What the...? The guy looked like he'd been through hell. Was he a refugee or something? He certainly hadn't had a shower in quite a while, Sachi's nose scrunching in surprised disgust. [break][break] "Dude, are you okay? You look like shit." [break][break] She maybe could have been a bit more tactful, but she was still riding off of that high of property damage, running from the cops, and the shitty tone this stranger had taken with her.
Sachi didn't even hear Milo's murmur, so caught up was she in her fretful attempt to fix the mess she caused. Had she not just been on some anxious ramble, losing her mind with worry and stress, she probably would have laughed at the spilled water; it wasn't something she normally would have freaked out so much about. This moment, though, was so wholly nerve-wracking, that panic attack lingering on the horizon like some grand beast ready to pounce. [break][break] She only, really, even remembered she wasn't alone when Milo slipped across from her, towel and glass and a far calmer disposition his offering. She still stumbled through apologies, voice stuttering as much as her hands were shaking, but it stopped when his reassurances finally pierced through that panicked haze. [break][break] "It's okay to get upset, especially over that." [break][break] She stopped, teary gaze just staring at his concerned countenance, her fingers moving to fidget nervously with the hem of her sweater, the fabric now dampened at the ends of her sleeves from that desperate attempt to clean up the water. She sat there, eyes wide, like some kid being told a story before bed. It was difficult, if she were being honest, for her mind to wrap around and accept those kind words he was spewing, for her to believe that any of this was actually alright. She felt like a fool, some idiot who couldn't even handle a simple breakup. Slowly, though, she began to calm, began to quiet those shaky breaths and trembling hands. [break][break] "It's okay for it to not be okay Sachi..." [break][break] Gods, how many times had she spouted those words to her friends, to her brother? A new set of tears built up in the corners of those emeralds, gratitude mixing with that sorrow and apology and self-deprecation. [break][break] "My point is, you have a right to be upset, but I don't think you should be so hard on yourself or put any stock in what he said. Sounds like he should be scared of what you could say about him for how he spoke to you." [break][break] Face contorting into another of those deep, emotional expressions, Sachi was moving before she could stop herself. The Moritas had always thrived on touch, the siblings having clung to each other through the majority of their childhoods, their mother always doting at least in the physical affection department. And so it came naturally for Sachi, overcome with emotion, to reach forward and grasp at this kind man's fabrics, to lean into him and bury her face in his chest as she began to cry again, to cling to him like some lost puppy as she let herself just melt into a puddle of quiet sobs against him. [break][break] "Th-Thank you..." she stuttered out between those timid breaths, mind still lingering in that self-deprecating pool, but allowing herself to at least accept this minute bit of comfort. She didn't even think about how uncomfortable this could make someone, though she'd surely remember once she'd calmed down a bit and thoroughly drown Milo in apologies. "Y-You're..." She laughed, the humored sound tainted by that bit of anguish still lingering in her tone. "You're too nice... Milo..."
"Damn, that was pretty good actually." [break][break] Right? I told you they weren't bad!" [break][break] "For sure. Though I feel like some of the lyrics were a bit off. Like... didn't make any sense. And the singer was a bit uh... much." [break][break] Sachi, who'd previously been enraptured by the nearby conversation, happily sipping on her tropical treat of a drink, furrowed her brows in consternation at the most recent comment, lips pursing around her straw. The show had just ended a few minutes prior, the band slipping off stage after a rousing success of a gig, and as much as she knew everyone was entitled to their opinions, Sachi couldn't help the spark of protective bitterness that flashed through her system as she continued listening in. [break][break] "What do you mean? He was just having a good time. It's cool that he had so much energy." [break][break] "Eh, I don't know. He was getting annoying there at the end. Talented kid, but he could use some mellowing out..." [break][break] The grumpiness in Sachi's countenance was getting worse by the minute, her emeralds now openly trained on the pair chatting nearby at the bar. She was, perhaps, already a bit drunk, probably the catalyst for that particularly obvious bit of eavesdropping. [break][break] "... I mean, it was just a bit wild for me-- uh..." [break][break] "Is uh... Is there something you need, miss?" [break][break] Shit. [break][break] "Actually, yeah, there is." [break][break] Shit shit shit. The rational, still sober side of Sachi's mind begged her to calm down, to not get into a fight with some guy just because he wasn't the biggest fan of her friend's work. [break][break] "I just think it's a bit cheap that you-- Lee!" [break][break] Sachi's countenance changed in an instant. What had in one moment been a radiating energy of stubborn bitterness immediately faded into a bright-eyed, bubbly enthusiasm. Hopping off her barstool, the previous conversation already all but forgotten, at least for her, she skipped over towards the familiar head of blonde. [break][break] "The king of rock and roll graces us with his presence!" she theatrically cooed, giving a little twirl before stepping up beside her friend, vibrant grin spread across her features. Her free hand dramatically flourished, some mock act of fainting. "We are not worthy!"
Was there anything more satisfying that the sound of a bat colliding with the front windshield of a 1990 Honda NSX? As Sachi continued to hammer away at the expensive little red sports car, she really couldn't think of anything quite as fulfilling. Wild pink locks tucked under a dark baseball cap, similarly-toned workout garb adorning her form, she looked like some expensive little Barbie bashing away at Ken's pride and joy. [break][break] "Maybe he cheated on her..." she heard some nervous passerby murmur before quickly scurrying away as Sachi's emerald gaze fell on them. [break][break] Oh if only it were that simple. [break][break] Mr. Red Sports Car was actually a high-society, snobby-as-hell businessman with far too much free time and far too roaming of hands for Sachi's liking. Just the night prior, at one of those absolutely boorish elitist events her parents dragged her to so often, she'd watched as he got particularly handsy with a seventeen-year-old clothing line heiress... A seventeen-year-old clothing line heiress that seemed particularly upset by the creeps advances. [break][break] "Serves you right asshole," she murmured, spitting on the broken windshield before giving it one more hearty reunion with the business end of her bat. She stepped back, admired her work, flipped the middle finger at the man who was scrambling out of the barbershop, face half-covered in shaving cream, eyes wild with anger. [break][break] Not keen on getting caught--gods, to see her mother's face if she showed up in cuffs--Sachi darted off down a nearby side street, the sounds of police sirens already echoing through the downtown area. Out of sight, she deposited the splintered bat into a trashcan as she ran passed, exhilarated cackles tumbling from her lips. [break][break] Alright! Just gotta skirt the edges a bit and then head back to the apart-- [break][break] "Oof! Fuck!" [break][break] Sachi hadn't even noticed the man ambling up ahead, their bodies colliding in some stumbling mess of limbs. Her hat tumbled away with the force of the contact, pink strands cascading around her shoulders as that emerald gaze wildly tried to refocus. [break][break] "Wh-What the fuck dude? Get out of the way!" she cursed, disentangling herself enough to stumble back a few feet from the guy. Shit! The sounds of quickened footsteps moving through the area--surely the cops--began to grow louder. Glancing around quickly, Sachi spotted a particularly dark little sliver of alleyway. She grabbed at Mr. In-The-Way's wrist, trying to tug him into the small space with her. "Get in here! Can't let them find me!"
"No please don't apologize! It's not stupid, I don't know what happened, but if it's upsetting you this much it's obviously not stupid!" [break][break] Sachi tried so goddamn hard to believe that, to convince herself that those worries, those anxieties, were anything more than the discomfort of some privileged, spoiled rich girl. She didn't deserve to feel like this, to break down like this, to bother some poor guy just trying to have a nice night in with all of her damnable problems. [break][break] "Do you want to talk about it? I really don't mind listening, promise." [break][break] Slowly, Sachi peaked out from her little hidey-hole, emeralds puffy, but grateful as she reached for the offered water bottle. Gods, he looked so concerned. She didn't immediately drink it, just sitting there with her head resting on her knees, listening. [break][break] "If not, I get it but it might do you some good to talk about it." [break][break] Too nice. He was being too nice. Why was he being so nice? It wasn't fair. She didn't deserve to have someone so nice? He should have told her to just leave, to get the hell off his doorstep, to stop whining. [break][break] "Again, don't be sorry, whatever it is isn't stupid and I'll never think it is." [break][break] She cast her gaze away, thinking back on the previous hour, on the way that bastard spoke to her, on the way her looked at her. She should have gone home; she should have gone to a bar to drown away her feelings; she should have done literally anything else besides stumbling over to sob on some acquaintance's couch. [break][break] "I-It's just a-a lot of things... M-My boy--" she stopped herself, grimaced, winced at how dumb this all was going to sound to someone with actual problems. "My boyfriend b-broke up with me... s-said a lot of... hurtful... things..." Her expression darkened, a new set of tears brimming at the edges of her eyes as she recalled all the shit he'd thrown at her, how she'd just sat there and let him belittle her, all because she thought he'd get over it, would forgive, would forget, would let her go on pretending like she deserved some high-society rich kid with a bright future and a good family. "I'm the w-worst person in my family." She told herself not to get worked up again, not to let those echoing words drive her any more over the edge. "I'm just a fucking failure. This guy was an asshole; I-I should have told him to just-- just fuck off, but I couldn't. I just fucking sat there and took it!" She was beginning to rant, to let her emotions take over, shaky voice stumbling through the words in some anxious panic. "But I was so fucking scared of what he would say, what he would tell everyone, what he could do to my reputation! H-He looked at me like... like I was a fucking disgrace... like a piece of dirt..." She was beginning to hyperventilate, just rambling on, grip on that water bottle turning her knuckles white. "But that's what I am! That's why I just let him fucking say that shit to me! I'm not good enough for him; that's what he said! And he was right! I'm never fucking good enough! I'm not successful enough for my parents to give a shit about me, I'm not mature enough for my brother to trust me with anything, I'm not smart enough for people to think I'm anything more than some rich fucking bitch, I'm not strong enough to get through one fucking breakup without having to go sob in some fucking stranger's apartment!" [break][break] She didn't realize that she was throwing the water bottle until it collided with a sharp SMACK! against the floorboards. She jumped, the sound breaking her out of that anxious rambling, wild eyes quickly flicking over to Milo, coated in silent, moistened apology, before she started scrambling for the slowly-leaking bottle. [break][break] "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry...!" [break][break] She just kept repeating it, over and over again, as she fell to her knees on the floor, trembling fingers grasping at the split bottle, holding it up, using her sleeve to try and wipe of the moisture from the floor. That same panic was there in her movements, in the way she shook, the way she breathed like there wasn't enough air in the room. [break][break] "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry...!"
Had she been perhaps a bit more in control of her thoughts and emotions, Sachi might have felt some exhilarated pleasure at being so easily welcomed into the man's home. Interpersonal relationships had always come easily to the young woman; Milo had been one of those... special cases that took a bit more effort. How unfortunate that the first time she actually got to pay him a casual visit she was a sobbing, flushed mess of nerves and anxiety. [break][break] "Th-Thank you..." she mumbled between sniffles as she shuffled past him, expression that of equal parts relief, embarrassment, and anguish. She somehow managed to remember to slip out of her boots, stumbling a little bit as she found her socked footing in the apartment. [break][break] "Sachi what's wrong? Did something happen?" [break][break] She winced, curling in on herself just a bit more as she used the sleeves of her sweater to try and dry those damnable, traitorous tears. Calm down! Just calm down already! her mind screamed, but the floodgates had been opened, emotions and anxieties bubbling over and filling her gut with agonizing tension. She couldn't calm down anymore than she could stop those salty streams beginning to stain her cheeks. She opened her mouth as if to reply, but couldn't get the words out, her teeth quickly digging into her bottom lip to stifle any more of those broken sobs as she just quietly stumbled over to the offered seat. [break][break] "N-Not hurt..." she finally managed to murmur, shaking her head, strands of pink coming a little more loose from her ponytail as she moved. [break][break] She sniffled, tried to catch her breath as she found her place on the couch, too embarrassed to look at the man whose home and evening she'd so rudely intruded upon. Nuisance... her mind reprimanded as knees found her chest and she buried her face into the fabric of her leggings, her back shaking with the force of those damned sobs. [break][break] "I-I'm sorry... I'm sorry... this is s-stupid..." she mumbled, hiccups and quick stuttered breaths intermingling with the quiet, muffled apology. Her grip around her bent legs tightened, pretty painted fingernails digging into the skin of her forearms. [break][break] Nuisance! You're just being a nuisance! He doesn't give a shit about you or this! You'r just being obnoxious! [break][break] Her breathing quickened. God she wished she'd grabbed a bottle of something to down before coming over. [break][break] That's what you do, isn't it? You just run away and get fucked up. Fucking pathetic. [break][break] "I'm sorry..." she repeated, voice cracking. [break][break] You should be apologizing. You should just leave. [break][break] "C-Can I have s-some water?" She still couldn't convince herself to look at him, could hardly keep herself tethered enough not to go racing out of that apartment and back into the neon-lit Tokyo streets. Quietly, face still buried in her knees, she murmured, "I-It's just... been a r-really bad... week..."
"Nobody likes pushy old men." [break][break] The feminine voice was unfamiliar, but wholly welcome. Joining the haze of vibrant, blotchy hues was a dash of emerald. It took a significant amount of concentrated effort for Sachi to actually focus in and see the new entrant, some flourish of relief rushing her features as the woman's image solidified, her foot making painful contact with wingman's knee before pinning him down. [break][break] "No sudden movements, or I'll put a hole through him." [break][break] Sachi watched, some hazy exhilaration in her gaze. It was exceedingly satisfying to see the main bastard, looming over her like some ogling vulture, contort his features in terror. Serve you right, asshole, her mind slurred up at him, Sachi starting to attempt to climb to her feet. In all honesty, the pink-haired lass probably should have been concerned by the idea of this chick having an actual firearm, but she was far too preoccupied with getting herself standing to actually manage any in-depth contemplations on the topic. [break][break] "Yeah, better run assholes," she instead slurred, stumbling back against the brick as she finally managed to get to her feet. Some loopy grin spread across her battered face, cloudy emeralds just challenging the nervous businessman to try the woman's threat. [break][break] She probably should have just kept her mouth shut. [break][break] Something about her intoxicated taunt must have pushed him over the edge of terror, his wild gaze glancing between the two women before he reached for Sachi. He clearly was attempting to grab her by the hair, to snatch her up and use her as some sort of hostage, but his movements weren't as skilled as his restrained companion's, hand violently tugging at those pink locks but ultimately failing to get a good enough hold. Instead, he got a handful of her hairband, tugging it away as he stumbled back. [break][break] "H-Hey, wai--!" Sachi attempted, stepping towards him in some futile attempt to get her headband back. [break][break] She hardly took a step and a half before tripping and tumbling to the rough concrete below. A sharp hiss left her, followed by a frustrated, pained groan as the man rushed down the alleyway away from the scene, his restrained friend's pissed ramblings echoing behind him as he was left behind.
It had taken years, but Sachiko had finally found a balance between the life of pretty-in-pink heiress to the Morita medical empire and rebel-without-a-cause delinquent with too much time and anxiety on her hands. She could manage the stressors of the daytime with the excess of the evening, could handle the terror of self-doubt and anxiety by drowning those voices in liquor and narcotics, could pretend she had control of everything by losing it all at night. She'd done it, solved the puzzle of her existence, the enigma of her situation, the dichotomy of her feelings and hopes and wants with her parents' and society's expectations. [break][break] So why was she shaking? [break][break] How many times had she stood outside of this apartment, cheeks flushed, some cackle echoing from her lips as she wobbled on too-tall heels? How many times had she found solace in the gentle expression of that poor man whose night she'd interrupted on so many occasions? How many times had he continued to be kind, to take care of her, to send her in the right direction with a soft expression and a gentle, guiding hand? [break][break] You're an idiot, her mind reprimanded, her emerald gaze already puffy from unshed tears. He's a stranger; just some guy you bother when you're fucked up. Suck it up and go home. [break][break] But she didn't move. Couldn't move. She stood there in that dank hallway, the echo of some nearby couple having some late-night screaming match the only accompaniment to her quiet sniffling and gentle swaying. She wasn't all that messed up, really; at least not compared to her normal state when she'd stumbled onto Milo's doorstep. So why did she feel so much more like she was drowning? [break][break] It was just a breakup! her mind screamed, some futile attempt to get her moving, to get her leaving. But it wasn't just a breakup. It was a breakup the same week as her finals, the week before she started her internship at the precinct, a few days before her mother's high-society birthday celebration... It was a million little things all rolled into one, horrible, exhausting, infuriating, terrifying ball. [break][break] She rapped her knuckles against that familiar bleached wood. [break][break] She could barely remember his name, could hardly process anything outside of that singular moment as she waited for the door to open, but once it did, once he was standing before her, that kind man who'd so often just helped her out when she was at her lowest, no expectation of retribution or reward... [break][break] "H-Hi Milo," she murmured, pooling tears finally spilling over as she gripped at the hem of her sweater and released a stuttered, involuntary sob. "C-Can I come in?"
Sachi was luckily already moving or she probably would've gotten a heel to the face, her instincts still enough intact for her to duck away at the last minute. Grumbling some curse at the man, she reached down for her purse and easily snatched out that little black bottle. Turning on her now-bare heels, she brandished the thing at her assailant... only to freeze with a confused look at he held that cushion up in front of him. [break][break] "Honestly, looks like someone needs a timeout! Someone had a shitty night!..!?" [break][break] "Gods, you are so fucking annoying," she grumbled back, pissed that he was blocking himself enough to cause a moderate, momentary standstill. A bit louder, she called out, "Just get the hell out of my apartment! I didn't--!" [break][break] Realization dawned on her. She was a young, successful future lawyer from a well-respected family. He was a lowlife that broke into her apartment. Her emerald gaze glanced to the phone hanging from the wall across the way in the kitchen. [break][break] You got this, her mind assured right before she darted, bare feet padding across the floorboards as she dashed to the phone, hellbent on, at the very least, dialing 911 before he had the chance to stop her.
