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itsuki-minamy · 4 years ago

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“K SIDE: PURPLE 08”

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

K - Side: Purple (Chapter List)

Looking at the customer who entered, Taka-san widened his eyes.

Isshin Hase, a man who settled in "Niibangai" about half a year ago. He was a big man with muscular bones, and if he had had the aptitude, he could have been hired by this "Massive Boys", but for now, he "established himself as a goalkeeper for all of Niibangai".

Hase looked confused while he was at the store entrance. It is not surprising. "Massive Boys" is a so-called "tourist bar" that anyone can walk into, but there are chaotic fluorescent neon signs, bondage fashion Greek sculptures, and bright posters of gay porn stars all over the store. At first glance, customers are often confused and some leave the store immediately.

"Sensei, come here."

When Taka-san beckoned, Hase looked relieved and walked over to the counter. When he put his giant body on a stool, he looked like one of the figures in the store.

Taka-san laughs a bit as he hands him a hand towel.

"Welcome. It's rare for Sensei to come to us."

"Um, well, that's right. I'm not good at these kinds of places."

Taka-san is in awe of the wording. Since Hase was in a hurry, he wondered why he had come if he wasn't good at it, or what if he said it in front of them.

"Oh, no, no! It's not about you, there's just no green tea in this place to drink. Sorry."

Taka-san involuntarily bursts out laughing. It seems true that he wasn't good at socializing, although he didn't have to panic.

"Well, that's correct. Sure, you can't drink?"

"Um, I can't."

"Ah, I'm not serious. I apologize, we have many other non-alcoholic drinks."

He glanced sideways and pointed at Chief Satoshi. He saw this person, so the instructions mean that others are welcome. Satoshi looked ahead and yelled, he came out of the counter to stop an employee who is getting involved with a customer.

Taka-san turns to Hase and says with a soft smile.

"So what are you going to do, Sensei?"

"That's right. I'll order a sake that I can drink."

"Yes."

Taka-san took the shaker. There was no doubt that Hase asked for that for his sake. There are days when he still wants to drink alcohol that he cannot drink. He has been doing this kind of business for a long time, so he knows it.

He adds syrup, sugar and lemon to some cocoa liquor and shake it. Transferring it to a glass, he poured in sparkling water and was slightly driven, Taka-san presented the glass in front of Hase.

"Yes, please. Cacao Fiz. It has less alcohol, so feel free to drink."

"Oh, thanks."

He raised the glass with a nervous hand, and took a sip. Hase's eyes widened.

"Uh, it tastes good."

"Thank you."

Taka-san smiled. Hase tipped his glass again and drank several times.

He wondered what happened.

For half a year after the gangster attacked, Hase has solved many problems in "Niibangai". There are many people, including Taka-san, who have been helped and protected by him. Still, his good-natured personality who never snorts his achievements, was welcomed favorably by the "Niibangai" neighbors.

Still, Taka-san doesn't know Hase's details. Also Mi-chan and Seiya. He is forbidden to snoop unnecessarily, which was implicitly a rule of thumb in "Niibangai", which has many wounds on its inhabitants.

So Taka-san didn't force him to answer, he just shook off the little talk.

"How about these days? What about Mishakuji-chan?"

Hase laughs on one cheek. A sip of cocoa and then a sip of words.

"His sword is..."

"Yes?"

"I was right. That boy has a good sword."

For a moment, Taka-san didn't understand what Hase was saying.

Hase's ability is brute force. He has taken down several thugs in the blink of an eye. He was not sure about the sword, but he could understand through common sense that he had been studying for many years and that his technique cannot be surpassed by one half.

That is to say…

"Why are you asking that all of a sudden?"

"I heard you promised Sayuri to try to avoid injury. Until now, you've been hitting with a move that doesn't care, but it seems like you've decided to change that."

"……"

"The word genius is lukewarm. Yukari is real, so is his ability."

Speaking to himself, Hase set the empty glass on the counter.

"Give me a refill."

"Yes."

While preparing a new cocktail, Taka-san implicitly observed Hase's expression.

Hase seemed to be laughing. Eyes closed and thoughtful, his lips formed a slight smile. But Taka-san didn't know what he thought was true. What do people feel when they are outmatched by humans for just half a year after many years of research? Only the person knows.

"He's a great kid. That's it."

Taka-san is even more cheerful as he pours a new cocktail into the glass.

"Yeah, he really does cause that feeling, right? Mishakuji-chan is amazing. He's been able to do anything for a long time, he's smart, he has a good face. It's weird that he's in a place like this."

Hase smiles bitterly as he looked at the glass that Taka-san gave him.

"A place like this, is a greeting. I wonder if this is where I live."

"Yes. "Niibangai" is certainly our place. But after all, it is a place like this."

Taka-san turned his gaze towards the shop, saying that selfishly. The burly men in XL evening gowns and prima donna suits hold their glasses cross-shouldered and the singing voice is out of tune.

"Drop something, run away from something. This is a mound of snow where these people gather. The more time we spend here, people like me, Mi-chan, Seiya, Sayuri, we have no place to stay other than here."

Hase's glass was empty. Taka-san unconsciously poured half sake.

"But Mishakuji-chan is different. Since he is a big boy, it is possible that he can fly to a wide world that we cannot imagine. I think he is a boy, who unlike us who cannot escape, can open up by himself One Way."

Taka-san says that, narrowing his eyes.

Mishakuji Yukari was certainly such an existence for the people of "Niibangai". Hope and possibility. Being able to fly to places where they can never go. That's why everyone who likes Yukari feels that he is not suitable for this place.

"Escape."

Suddenly, Hase's face was dyed bright red and the giant swayed. Taka-san rushes to replace the glass.

"My God, I wonder if I drank too much. Water, water."

"Hm..."

Hase looks at the water that Taka-san offered him. Hase flutters with some drunken eye flashes.

"I'm the same. I wonder if it was fate that brought me here."

"……"

Do not poke around uselessly. That is the "Niibangai" rule. They all have the same scars that they don't want to be explored.

However, you cannot live with your own pain forever. There are times when you still want to spit out the scars you don't want to find. In such a case, listen to the story silently. That's not "Niibangai's" rule, it was Taka-san's rule.

"Why did you come here, Sensei?"

When Taka-san poured the water, Hase leaned his elbows on the counter, closed his eyes, and began to speak slowly.

"I betrayed my friend and ran away from him."

++++++++++

The Miwa Meishinryu Dojo was located near Hase's birthplace.

He doesn't remember why he got a sword. He was not good at socializing due to his natural nature, and he believed that swinging a stick was easier than playing with friends at school. There were few outsiders who bothered to learn old-fashioned swordplay, and it was even rarer when they were younger, and there was only one disciple his own age.

That was Miwa Ichigen's school.

Miwa was the grandson of the owner of the dojo, a boy who was sought out to take over the Miwa Meishin style. For that reason, it seems that he was strictly taught not only the sword, but also all martial arts and etiquette. From the boy Hase's perspective, Miwa seemed to have little time to break free.

However, he didn't make sense of Miwa's character. He always had a spring breeze atmosphere that made his feel relaxed just by being next to him. It wasn't a bother for Hase, who wasn't good at socializing, to be around Miwa. Not only was he a friend of the sword of the same age, but Hase and Miwa believed that they fit together in terms of personality.

However, even Hase often couldn't understand Miwa.

For example, while he was practicing in the presence of a sword, there was a moment when he suddenly lost his head. Even if it's practice, if the hit is bad, it will hurt. Since he knew, he should have to put stress on his whole body, but Miwa just looked somewhere far away, and sometimes his heart wasn't even there.

And Hase couldn't attack Miwa. He should be full of spaces, but there was no possibility of attacking anywhere. He was caught up in the premonition that a ridiculous counterattack would ensue the moment he hit him, and he had no choice but to turn Miwa around. Meanwhile, both of them were severely scolded by the owner of the dojo.

"Hey. What the hell was that?"

After a day of practice, Hase scold Miwa.

Half intended to complain. Both of them were ordered to clean the entire dojo as punishment for clumsy practice. He couldn't help but wonder why he wasn't fed up with Miwa, but he couldn't think of beating Miwa if he acted immature in front of him.

As he squeezed the cloth he had just lifted from the bucket, Miwa asked mysteriously.

"What's that?"

"That's it. It's like you go somewhere from time to time, whatever you're practicing. It's hard to do and I can't get over you."

"Ah..."

Miwa was a bit shy.

"That's the word that comes to mind."

"Word?"

"Yeah. Words that usually come to mind that aren't cohesive probably come together at that moment, and then my head goes that way."

He has turned his lips into a sword. He knew from his long relationship that Miwa wasn't teasing him.

"I do not know why."

"Yes. I really don't get it."

"I can't understand what you don't understand."

Having said that, Hase smiled bitterly. The one who laughed was the loser. He placed both hands on the mop placed on the floor and cleaned as he took a step. Hase lecture Miwa that he was a little late.

"If those words come together, let me know."

Miwa also laughed a bit and replied.

"Yes. I'll tell you when the time comes."

In the future, Miwa will be the owner of the Miwa Meishin-style dojo. Become a friend of Miwa, he will have the level of a teacher, sometimes they would exchange swords, teach the sword technique to the neighborhood children and hear those "words" one day. Somehow, Hase envisioned that future.

So when he heard that Miwa was leaving the house, he wasn't surprised at all.

Hase and Ichigen Miwa's sword arms were almost the same, but their heads were different.

When he heard that Miwa would be enrolled in the highest school in the country, he thought reflexively, "This guy will do long before breakfast."

But he really didn't understand. Why wasn't he the successor to the dojo? What happened to the promise to hear the "words"? Does he throw the sword? Out of anger, Hase was asking that question in quick succession.

Miwa was a bit embarrassed, as he bent his neck.

"No. I'm sure I'll be waving my sword wherever I am."

Then, with a look soft like a spring breeze, he added:

"The 'words' are not organized yet. Once they are organized, I'll show them to you first."

"Really?"

Hase had no choice but to say so. There were no other words.

The difference between him and Miwa was clearly shown.

First of all, he was a different person than him, who was not good at socializing because he was careless and had no choice but to cling to this land while he brandished his sword. Miwa, she was smart and had many brilliant talents. He was a person who could advance to a larger world for a better future. It was just that Hase was so crazy that he thought he must be around him all the time.

"Do not feel alone."

The words that came out of his mouth surprised him. He should be pleased with the prosperity of his friend, but the first thing that comes up is his feeling. Masochistically, he thought that place would be different without him.

Still, Miwa smiled and replied.

"Me too. I will be a teacher who teaches from the heart."

Then, Miwa flew all over the world.

Shortly after Miwa disappeared, Hase became the teacher of the Miwa Meishin school.

It seems that the owner of the dojo still wanted Miwa to take over the dojo. The instructor would only be Miwa, and he claimed that he was in the middle of a "long absence". That was not important to Hase. He was not interested in the position or title as long as he could live wielding his sword, he thought it was the most suitable life for him.

Meanwhile, almost 10 years have passed.

One day, Miwa came by chance.

After graduating from high school, he heard that he got a job in an overseas securities company and that he is doing a great job. It would be a lie not to say that his friend was living a completely different life from his, and that he didn't feel alone, but when he thought "that's what it is", it was a story he could swallow. He thought that he had found something that could be the basis for him, just like he was living with a sword.

The face of his friend that he saw after a long time seemed to be dead.

Hase looked at his face seriously, and Miwa smiled like a spring breeze, as in the past.

"I'm sick. I left the company."

If asked, it seems that dark circles floated under his eyes and his body was thin. Hase could only imagine what a foreign securities company would look like, but it was probably a hostile environment that could damage the trained body with a sword. Hase ran into a friend, who fell ill and eventually returned from an unknown land.

"Miwa. Stay here forever. This is your home."

With a smile on his face, he shook his head gently.

"No. This is your dojo. I decided to retreat into the distance."

Hase opened his eyes. He didn't know what Miwa was thinking.

He said that he will soon go somewhere even though he had returned. Miwa took Hase's hand and said, wondering if such doubts had appeared on his face.

"It is said that good air is better for me. I can go calmly because you are in charge of this dojo."

"……"

"I lost the Miwa Meishin style."

When he told him that, Hase couldn't do anything else.

That night. Hase saw Miwa in the Kendo room.

Miwa dressed in a sash and calmly waved a wooden sword. It was probably because of the feeling that he was sick and did such a thing. It is a dojo where he spent his childhood and youth. Miwa who returned after a long time, thought it was inevitable that he would want to breathe the air of the dojo even if he made his sick.

"I understand your feelings, but don't overdo it."

He tried to yell that when he saw it.

Miwa, waved his sword as if dancing. As if running water flowed incessantly, his feet and the sword of judgment as well, they never stayed in one place.

Silently, gracefully, without the gap of habit, Miwa manipulated the wooden sword lightly.

It was hard to believe that this sick man was away from the sword for many years.

Indescribable discomfort hit Hase's chest. When he realized it, he was entering the kendo room. Hase didn't stop even if he looked back in surprise when he noticed that.

Miwa unexpectedly pointed at his throat.

"Miwa, fix things with me."

Hase, unknowingly holding a wooden sword that he hung on the wall in one hand, raised it unconsciously.

His bloodied eyes are wide open, his shoulders are tight, and his lips are tight. When he saw Hase, he had a sad expression on his face.

"Oh, I…"

"Don't say anything. I ask you to fix things with me."

Then Hase held his sword to his eyes.

Miwa was silent for a while. He had his face down, so Hase didn't know what kind of expression he had. With a wooden sword in his hands, he said in a hazy voice.

"I will not reduce the number of hits."

"Try this. I will never forgive you."

Miwa looked directly at Hase and held his sword in the top row.

That only made the skin all over his body crawl.

He didn't want to admit it. He couldn't forgive him. However, as a grave fact, he stood in front of Hase.

Miwa was stronger than him. Much stronger.

He couldn't admit it.

Hase was surprised that such pride lurked in him. Hase saw himself as a disinterested and cheerful person just by wielding his sword.

But that meant that if he turned it over, he only had one sword. He thought that he wouldn't lose, even if it was Miwa. No matter how beautiful he was, no matter how glamorous he was in the world, only the sword. He only believed in this way of life, yet somewhere in his being, he believed that he was inferior to Miwa.

He was crushed.

The moment he saw the sword dance, he knew that he was in a situation where he couldn't even compete with Miwa. He was sick. He believed that he had been working for a company for a long time.

Miwa was much more skilled than him, who has directly thrust the sword.

He couldn't forgive him.

Miwa, no. He cannot forgive himself. The chief was not skilled enough to trick him into pretending not to see him. All feelings and consideration turned to dust at that moment. Isshin Hase had to challenge Ichigen Miwa.

Miwa with the sword in the top row had a transparent expression. The expression was familiar. It's the expression he used to have when he practiced, when his heart was going somewhere.

The facial expression when the "words" arise

At that moment, he couldn't hit him. He had a feeling that he was going to receive a terrible counterattack and could only turn around.

But now…

If he didn't hit him now, he will regret it for the rest of his life.

"Oooooooooooooh!"

Driven by thoughts of him, Hase kicked the dojo floor. A reverse kasaya that appears to be licked from the bottom left. He fired the strongest blow of his life.

And…

++++++++++

"So what happened?"

Taka-san asked in a low voice, looking at Hase, who has fallen onto the counter.

"Fu…"

With his forehead pressed against the counter, Hase shook his shoulders and laughed.

"Of course I lost. No matter how many times I tried, I couldn't even touch it with the sword."

"……"

"The next morning, Miwa left. He left a letter."

There was a brief goodbye and a "word" in which the words were finally joined. No words of apology were written. Hase was saved by that.

"The next morning I left the dojo. I should have decided once that it was my place to live. I couldn't bear to be there anymore."

If he entered the dojo and swung his sword, he would remember that night. When he realized that, his life was worth nothing.

"I ran away. I left the dojo that night. For the very fact that I couldn't get over Miwa. I left the dojo that Miwa had entrusted to me and the disciples who trusted me, I fled, kept running, and then I came here."

Hase laughed deep in his throat, lifting his flushed face and squeezing it.

"I tried to assume that Miwa was special. He was a monster given two or three times by the sky. Then Yukari appeared."

With a laugh, Hase covered his eyes with his big palm.

"When I saw his movement today, I remembered Miwa that night. I moved like I danced and didn't stop. It's funny, right? After running away from a monster, I ended up meeting another monster. Kukuku…"

Hase kept laughing deep in his throat. Maybe he wasn't laughing. Thinking like this, Taka-san gently walked away.

"In the end, I can't. I couldn't beat him or forgive myself for losing. I saw Yukari today and I remembered him. I'm a useless person."

Taka-san thinks that there are two types of people who despise themselves.

Someone who wants you to deny it, and some who really believe it.

Hase now is probably the last. There was an opponent who lived with a sword and still couldn't beat him. He doesn't think he can understand all the regrets, despair and helplessness at that time. Suffering can only be understood by the person who tasted it.

However, there was still a problem with Hase.

"Miwa, right? I have never met him, but I am grateful to that person."

When Taka-san said, Hase looked up mysteriously.

"Because without that person, I could have been dead."

Hase looks at Taka-san with drunken eyes. Taka smiled, poured water into the glass, and presented it to Hase.

"Isn't that true? If you had overcome that feeling before that person, you wouldn't be here right now. Then I could have been stabbed by that yakuza and would die."

"……"

"It's not just me. It's the same for Mishakuji-chan. He could have been seriously injured protecting me, and that boy could have died if you hadn't intervened. Right?"

Hase shook his head, saying that he couldn't turn his head properly. Taka-san sighed and looked directly at Hase.

"You may have lost. You may have escaped, thrown away, betrayed and come here. But there are people who have been saved."

"……"

"So don't say you're worthless, much less say that in front of Mishakuji-chan, because he respects you."

"Does he respect me?"

Hase repeated it, like the words he heard for the first time. As he looked down at the glass.

"But eventually he will be stronger than me."

"But now you are still that child's teacher."

Hase was listening to the words and sinking into the depths of the water in the glass.

"So, be proud and be like a teacher. Not for you, but for Mishakuji-chan. One day when that child leaves the nest, you will be able to proudly say, 'Isshin Hase taught him the sword.'"

Hase was silent for a while.

Taka-san didn't say anything else. He thought it was Hase's problem. After all, Hase himself is the only one who can come out of despair and suffering.

"So is."

Finally, Hase muttered and crept into his chest.

What he took out of it was a messy piece of paper. It was slightly dirty and covered with hand stains, and the written characters were not clear. However, Hase squinted to see the precious written treasure and murmured.

"I may have come here for that."

#K #k project #k fan clan #mishakuji yukari #k side purple

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monicaaaaatje · 4 years ago

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DaisySous Drabbles - The one in which he wants to protect her honor (but forgets his own) (part 1)

Prompt: 7x06, but then through Daniel Sousa his eyes

He had a seriously throbbing headache. A moan escaped from between his lips, but he didn’t seem to have gained control about his body back yet.

What the hell did they shot me with?

A vague memory passed through his mind. Had he felt like this ever before?

Yes. Yes he had. He had felt like this when they had drugged him up for transport after his leg had been blown to shreds.

“Hmmmpff.”

Another moan. What had happend to them?

Malick.

He had to wake up.

His body was hurting and definitely refusing to what he wanted it to do, but in a way he was used to that. His body had never done what he wanted it to do.

“Just... Wake... Up!”

The light was too bright for his eyes, so he opened and closed them again.

His eyes were open. That was a good thing. Now all he had to do was make sure he kept it that way.

When his eyes had adjusted to the light, he realized they were in a barn. At least, he figured they were, because there were grain halms everywhere.

When he looked next to him, he could see that agent Johnson was still out like a light. It was clear that whatever that Malick kid had shot them with, they had been drugged and sedated. He was awake already, but how this would affect Johnson and her powers?

She had been explaining things to him about telephones, herself-

Everything was still so goddamn confusing. They had told him he shouldn’t put too much effort in it, but some part of him wanted to understand. Wanted to make sense out of it.

If they got out of this alive, he should start with writing things down.

“Hmmpfff... Braaaghhh...”

Johnson pulled his attention. She had definitely been hit worse then him.

“Good to see you move.”

Instead of laying down, he had gotten up with his back against the wall.

“My head... Ohhh, I can barely... Feels like there’s cement running through my veins.”

“Drugs. Haven’t been this messed up since the field hospital.”

He hated being drugged. At least something that would never change.

Johnson let out a sigh and started to move her limbs.

“I want to hea- hear that story when I... When I can remember it.”

She started to stretch her legs, stretching her hand, trying to do whatever she could do with those powers of hers, but... Nothing. Her limbs went numb again with a grown.

“I can’t quake”, she growled, obviously annoyed. “Malick’s little psycho...”

The both of them were obviously feeling not that hot. At that exact moment, the door of wherever they were being held went open.

“Psycho? That’s unfair- and really well-timed. Wow, right as I’m walking in. Hi, Nathaniel,” he introduced himself. “Uh, the two of you took me hostage, changed my life.”

When he had seen the lanky kid in the bar, he had already felt an aversion towards him, but now he was sure: He definitely hated him.

“Yeah,” Johnson growled. “How about you unchain us, and we can hug it out? And Hydra and SHIELD can be together at last.”

She was sitting up against the wall now as well. That was an improvement.

“ I... I look like Hydra to you?”

The Malick kid laughed.

“Take a look at Ron’s suit,” he said while pointing to one of his thugs. “Guy’s here ‘cause he’s got mouths to feed, not ‘cause he worships a space octopus. No, religion’s not really my thing.”

“I don’t want to know what your thing is, kid,” he growls. His head keeps throbbing and he is really done for today. Done.

“But it’s you, Daniel,” Nathaniel replies. “You’re my thing.”

He really, really hated this kid. He wanted to punch him in the face, but his chains and head prevented him from doing so.

“Danny... You know, I know. Daisy here can move things without touching them, and you, you either fought the krauts in diapers or you’re aging much slower than the other 60-somethings I know.”

“Yeah, he’s not what you think,” Johnson creaked next to him. “He’s not-”

“You mean he’s not an inhuman?”

A what?

“He’d better hope he is.”

Nathaniel chuckled.

“See, uh, the family business... I dabbled, but, um, nothing really spoke to me. Until I met you, saw what you could do. Whoa.”

If looks could kill... Nathaniel would have dropped dead on the spot. For him on the other hand... For him the confusion only became wider. He had used... Inhuman? A what?

“You haven’t even seen the half of it”, Johnson muttered hoarsely.

“I really hope not,” Nathaniel replied. “And a cool thing to say by the way. You’re whole vibe is just... Great.”

Some things started to clear up in his head.

“That’s why you took us hostage, to find out-”

“Hostage would imply that I’m using you as collateral, to get what I want, when in fact, everything I want is right here, flowing through your veins”, Nathaniel cut him off. Some form of connections started to form in Sousa his head right now. Nathaniel thought he was like Johnson, and wanted to do some things they probably would not survive.

“This isn’t the super serum, this is genetics”, Daisy said.

“Yeah, but I’m rich. It cuts down some barriers. Plus, Hydras families keep in touch. I mean, dr. Reinhardt has some very helpful tips. What’s he always saying? Discovery requires experimentation.”

“Dr. Reinhardt?” He asked while looking at Johnson. “Didn’t we catch him in the war?”

“Yes, and thank you for your service”, Nathaniel answered. “My generation doesn’t just say this enough.”

“You mean Daniel Whitehall...”

Johnson her face changed into horror. She tried to get up, panting in anger.

“I will crush you.”

“Yes, do it,” Nathaniel replied. “Just one bone shaker and it’s over. Show me what makes you so special.”

He could see how Daisy tried to focus, breathing heavily. Again, nothing.

“We start with her.”

They dragged her from her spot, out of the room. She was too weak to fight it.

#agents of shield #agents of shield fanfiction #Daniel Sousa #Daisy Johnson

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rwbyremnants · 5 years ago

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WARNINGS: domestic/child abuse, burning-related injury, occasional smut, minor character death. Some brief incest in the MUCH later chapters. Not affiliated with the similarly-named fanfic by DinasEmrys (which I haven't read, just saw the name when checking to see if the name I liked for this was already taken).

Welcome to probably THE longest solo project I've ever done! This version of Vale is set in America in the late 1950s, the era of greasers and sock hops - even though I didn’t make a big deal about trying to be SUPER period accurate. The fic does go a little off the rails in the latter half, but not too badly. It's going to be a long and bumpy ride but I hope you'll strap in, I had a LOOOOOT of fun with this one. Enjoy, cats and kittens!

=Chapter 1

"Announcing the arrival of Her Majesty, Princess Schnee."

For the fifth time that day, Weiss Schnee tried to walk as fast as she could past the rough girls who hung out in front of locker 134. The Dragons , whispers in the cafeteria had informed her. They were always there, always dressed in matching black leather jackets with yellow stripes down the sleeves, and always said uncouth things about most of the “nice girls” in school. She knew they were just ignorant and poor, and clearly had no idea what they were talking about. Her parents had told her as much, and she always trusted her parents. Why would they ever steer her wrong?

However, the stares from the blonde with the vaguely Asian features were different. Sure, the brunette with the flaming eyes and the one in the beret and aviator sunglasses just jeered and flipped her off, yelled things or giggled along with the rest. The amber-eyed vixen blew a cheeky kiss. But the expression of the one with such long, luxurious blonde hair was almost captivated. Obsessed. That look got to her, even if she couldn't figure out why.

"Gonna get you, Schnee," she catcalled again, causing her other four or five associates to burst out laughing. But she wasn't laughing - just grinning darkly. "Gonna get you, get you, GET youuuuu..."

"You will not!" Weiss finally snapped. This had been going on for over a week and she had reached her limit. The clique looked vaguely surprised she had spoken up, waiting to hear more. "You'll show me the respect I deserve as a fellow human being, you... you BRUTE!"

The others started going "WOOOOOO", but the ringleader - Weiss was only guessing, she didn’t know the first thing about gangs - ignored them and walked right up to her, away from the pack. She stood her ground, even though she could feel her heart thudding up into her throat in terror the closer she got.

"You want me to be a brute," she growled in a low voice - one for just the two of them. “You like it.”

"No, I… don’t be a pest. I want you to leave me alone. All of you!"

"They will. If you let me be a brute to you. Just me."

Blinking, she took a slight step back. "Wh-what on earth are you talking about?! No, I don't want anyone to be a brute to me! Go take a long walk off a short pier!"

"Let me. Just once. If you still don't like it... we'll all back off." Her index finger flashed out and ran along the scar on Weiss's cheek, just below her left eye. The one mark disfiguring her otherwise-flawless features. "Yang Xiao Long will make you forget whatever put that on your pretty face, baby."

Weiss felt her stomach disappear. Nobody was impolite enough to comment on her scar - usually. The memory that went along with it always made it hard for her to think, or to respond. "You... w-what... I- that's none of your-"

“Great. Meet me after you get outta cheerleading practice. Parking lot. Don't be late or I'll be rougher... unless that's what you want." Then she waved over her shoulder and went back to her friends as they hooted and stomped their feet, clapping her on the back as if she had accomplished something.

Funny thing was, she might really have. As Weiss hurried on to class, she realised she was probably going to do exactly what the Dragon called Yang asked. And she didn't understand why.

------------------------

"You came."

All of Weiss's books were pressed to her chest protectively as she glanced around the bustling car park. It was a security blanket measure - a shield that gave her a false sense of safety. "I did. You, um... you said you'd leave me alone if I don't like, um, whatever it is you're going to do, so j-just get it over with."

"Not so fast," the blonde hoodlum said as she sat on her motorcycle. All of her "girls" had one, but the other bikes were gone; she had told them to take off without her, apparently. "Hop on."

"No."

Yang's eyebrows went up. "Little Miss Schnee, what can the matter be?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you ."

"Ohhhh. You sure about that?" Standing up from the leather saddle of her mechanical steed, she slowly paced around behind Weiss, moving with the languid grace of a wild cat stalking its prey. When she had reached her back, she began pushing gently - it wasn't even hard, or "rough" as she had promised earlier. Just a nudging until she was standing up against the metal frame of the Harley.

"You... have a beautiful bike." Why did she say that? There was absolutely no need for her to compliment that delinquent's motorcycle!

"Pretty great, yeah. Needs one more accessory."

Gulping, she tried to look over her shoulder, but Yang was hovering directly in the blind spot behind her head. "And... what is that?"

Strong hands encircled her waist, lifted her easily into the air - and she did yelp, but it was weak, pathetic. She was ashamed of that yelp, and the next one that came when she felt her butt connecting with a leather seat.

"Got it now; a little paper-shaker with baby blue eyes. Perfect ornament."

The hands weren't leaving her hips. Then other hips were pressing into the backs of hers, cold leather grazing her arms and making her shiver. Hot breath on her neck. Her skin crawled even as her heart pounded and her mouth went dry.

"Stop," she begged in a whisper.

"I can't, Schnee. Not until I've been your ‘brute’, remember? Then I'm gone if you want me gone." Her face leaned over and she gave her a level, penetrating gaze from inches away. "Unless you can't even handle that much."

Why did she find it so hard to say a simple "no" to this woman? Her lips were speaking before she gave them any commands.

"I can handle whatever you got."

Her mouth split into a grin as she reached forward and gripped the handlebars, revving the engine. "Good. I won't hold back."

They peeled out from the curb, and Weiss felt her heart shooting into her throat. She’d never gone so fast before! Surely this wasn’t safe, and they had no protective gear! But Yang was completely confident behind her, a warm, solid presence. If she wasn’t afraid, then neither was Weiss. Even if she was and just wanted to appear as if she wasn’t. However, there was one question filling her mind: where were they going?

------------------------

Arriving didn’t answer the question at all.

"What... is this place?"

"A bar." After killing the engine, her flaxen-haired captor hopped off her bike, then turned to lift Weiss down. Her hands were like hot vice grips, but were gone just as quickly once she set her down.

"Wait, I'm not- we are not old enough! To go in there, I mean!"

"Relax," she laughed harshly. "They have food, too - and they don't serve kids booze. Even though I’ve seen Cinder get some under the table before."

Weiss’s heart was pounding as she looked up at the dark brown edifice. Smoky windows, bluesy rock music coming from the walls. A sign that said "Junior's" that flashed in pink neon letters above the door - and other neon signs of various colours advertising brands of alcohol. Never in her life had she come within fifty feet of such a place. Her stomach was a mess of butterflies.

The door opened. Two people came out, kissing. Two MEN. One blonde, and one whose hair was the least natural shade of blue she'd ever seen. And they didn't seem to care that two girls were standing around nearby - ones that weren't old enough to drink as much as they probably had.

"C'mon, we'll grab my usual table."

"Oh... okay." And Weiss found herself stumbling along behind her, trying to keep up.

Inside was worse. Dingy floors, bad lighting, and a powerful smell of liquor. The patrons at the bar were all drunk as skunks with an assortment of empty glasses in front of them. The booths and tables were evenly split between people with food and people without. Yang headed straight for one and plunked down, putting both feet up on the seat opposite her so that Weiss had no choice but to squeeze in next to her on the bench.

"Hey," she purred, looping an arm around her back. Weiss only gulped, and she motioned for the waitress to come over. "Two gut busters and an order of fries. Oh, and what do you want to drink? Scotch and soda?"

"Just a soda," she replied meekly while Yang grinned, amused with herself. She hated hearing herself sound so weak, but the waitress - with her muscled arms and no-nonsense attitude - made her feel like making any sudden moves or speaking out of turn would mean her death. She tried again. "Cherry cola."

"Same," Yang said smoothly. "I like cherries." Her designs on Weiss had to be obvious, but the waitress didn't seem to care - and didn't speak. She just wrote down their orders and went into the back.

"Are… you sure the food is… safe for human consumption?"

"Hey, I've been eating here since I was a half-pint. Never did me any harm."

"That's debatable."

The thug's face twisted into a slight sneer. She leaned closer and closer, eyes heavy-lidded and scowling, breath heaving. For a few seconds, Weiss had no idea what she was going to do - hit her? Kiss her? Shove her onto the floor and tell her she was worthless? All the possibilities played out in her mind, and she hated them all. Or didn't. She couldn't be sure, couldn't be sure of anything.

But then Yang grinned and muttered, "I knew I liked you. Like how you stand up to me. Nobody else at school does. Got spunk, and I like it."

"But I don’t like it, though. This, this… whatever this is." Breathing shallow and fast, she ignored the two glasses of soda left at their table and kept going, as if she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. "And I don't know what's wrong with me, why I'm here with you, I… I loathe you! Hate everything about you, that smug face, your 'tough girl' act, ALL of it! I can't stand your existence!"

"Really? Why are you here then, if you hate my guts?" Weiss didn't answer, so she leaned in and pressed her lips right up against her ear. Their bodies were so close she could feel the heat pouring off her chest from her low-cut top. "You're curious. And your curiosity is going to get you brute -alized."

The emphasis on the first half of "brutalized" worried her a lot less than if there had been no emphasis at all, but she still was sitting there, biting her bottom lip and trying not to cry or run away, trying not to lash out again for fear of what might happen if she did.

"You like that. Right there." Still whispering, she raised her other hand and began to caress Weiss's shoulder. "You need this feeling. The rush. Pampered little princess like you has never had it before anywhere in your life, and I give it to you, and you hate that I'm where you can get it… but you want the rush more than you want to tell me to get lost."

"M-maybe! Maybe I do, but I hate this, and I hate myself for not hating this enough! Why do you even do this to girls? Why me?! Y-you… you're too…"

The minute the tears were leaking down her cheeks, even though her face barely changed, Yang's hand came up to cup the back of her head and pull her into her shoulder. Weiss clutched at her back as hard as she could, nails digging into the leather. She was surprised at herself for not pushing Yang away - what was the matter with her?

"Alright. Alright, nobody's really hurting you. You're fine. Sorry if I pushed too hard."

"You did! You wanted me to break!"

"Not break. Just... break on through to the other side. The wild side." Pulling back, she wiped the tears away with one thumb - as if she'd done it before. Maybe many times. "Sometimes, you gotta push through the pain to get to the good stuff. Nothing worth having comes for free, right?"

Somehow, even though the "sorry" had seemed insincere at first, the piercing nature of her violet eyes and the way she wasn't blinking, wasn't looking away as she soothed her with well-placed words, convinced Weiss that she might really mean what she said. And the heart in her throat was telling her to trust that. To trust her .

"Really?" Sniffling and hating how she sounded, she shrugged and asked, "What kind of good stuff?"

"Later," she chuckled provocatively. Then her expression softened the slightest amount as she said, "But I bet you're starting to feel better right about... now."

Against all sanity, she was. The brief moment of crying and confrontation had made her a lot less fearful, less ready to snap. She still wasn't sure if she should actually trust a girl like Yang, but she no longer wanted to run screaming to the bathroom and sob into a toilet bowl.

"Yeah. There ya go."

"And there you go," said the waitress in her gruff voice as she put a plate down in front of each of them, and a basket of fries between. Without saying anything else, she left the check on the table and sauntered away.

"Wait until you try these," she said with a little less toughness and a little more earnest excitement. "You'll never go back to Mickey D's again."

"I don't go there in the first place." However, they did look like pretty solid burgers - overflowing with tomatoes and pickles, semi-melted cheese dripping down the bottom bun. She picked hers up to inspect, curling her lip.

"It won't bite. Well... not since yesterday."

Weiss decided to ignore that ominous comment and took a bite. It was every bit as delicious as Yang claimed, though the grease running down her chin made her panic and grab a napkin to catch it before it ruined her clothes. Yang chuckled but didn’t mention it otherwise; simply dug into her own food and watched the prim and proper girl feed her face.

"How is it?" she finally asked about halfway through the burger.

"It's… so wrong that it's right."

Grinning wolfishly, she leaned in and took a bite of the other end of the burger - away from Weiss's mouth, but trapping it between them for the briefest of seconds. Pulling back, she chewed and swallowed, then whispered, "Welcome to my world."

------------------------

Half an hour later, Yang's motorcycle was growling through the old neighbourhoods, sending echoes off the buildings. Still having no idea where she was being taken, Weiss tried not to act surprised when they pulled up in front of the old abandoned train depot.

"Oh," she breathed when Yang hopped off. "This… is it? Your hideout?"

"That's not how I think of it," she grunted as she helped Weiss down and started toward the broken-down shell of a building. Shifting a couple of boards aside, she managed to edge her way through the door - and her hand remained on the boards for Weiss to step through.

"You can't be serious."

"As a heart attack."

"There are probably a thousand ways to get tetanus in there!" No response. Letting out a frustrated growl, Weiss stomped forward and tried to squirm her way through the opening without letting anything touch her.

All she got for her trouble was a swat on the backside, one that caused her to shriek - and Yang to shriek with laughter. Ignoring that as best she could, she followed her up the nearby set of stairs to the old offices, and through one of the open doorways.

Inside were several old wooden chairs, and a comfortable couch that had seen far better days. On top of the couch was a crisp, clean linen sheet, which helped to lessen her disgust. In addition, there were two tables, the smaller one covered in candles of various sizes. As the sun was just beginning to set, Yang wasted no time taking out a Zippo and lighting them.

"You sure know how to show a girl a good time," Weiss told her, voice heavy with sarcasm.

"We’re barely getting started, Schnee," Yang said, turning back to her. When Weiss tensed, she lowered herself down into a bestial stance. "Gonna get you, GET you, GE-"

"STOP THAT." Yang was grinning, but she did stand up from her crouch, one hand on her hip. "Now, I… I don't know what exactly you thought you were going to do with me here, but there's not going to be any-"

Her words cut off when she felt Yang's hands alight upon her hips, thumbs massaging her gently. Dark eyes stabbing down into hers, even though they were barely visible in the low lighting. There had to be words left that could take her out of this situation, that would force the uncouth girl in the leather to release a princess of such high breeding. Why couldn't she think? Why did being this close cloud her brain?

"Any what?" Weiss dropped her gaze, so Yang urged, "Go on."

"Hanky panky."

The leader laughed in her face. Actually laughed, loudly and riotously, and Weiss felt her cheeks colour for an entirely new reason now: embarrassment. "Seriously?! That's how you wanna put it?!"

"Then how would you put it, if you're so, so… well-travelled?!"

One hand reached up to her neck, grabbing it from behind - not just cupping it, but the fingertips digging into either side. Her heart stopped, her stomach tightened into a knot. And before her mind could catch up with current events, Yang was kissing her, pressing hot lips into hers and sliding them across each other, tugging gently at Weiss's lower one. Everything about her body was completely useless as she stood there and took it, as she let this insane event that she could never have envisioned unfold, starring a double of herself who apparently had no willpower at all.

But it felt better than anything she'd ever experienced, even if she hated thinking that. Better than walking in the rain when she was a small child, better than her bed in the morning when she didn't want to get up. Better enough to be the best.

When Yang finally pulled her away with that strong hand, she breathed, "Words... don't really work for that."

Slowly, Weiss's hand came up and brushed her own lips. That really happened. Some girl from her school - some GIRL - had just taken away her first kiss. Maybe it had been perfect in every way other than its origin, but that was still a first she could never do over again.

"Hey, what is it?" Yang asked, eyebrows knitting slightly as she leaned in - and the instant she did, she set off a reaction.

SLAP!

The blonde's eyes were so wide they looked like they might fall out. Hand pressed to her cheek, she slowly turned back to look at Weiss, who was standing there, huffing and puffing with her fists clenched down by her sides, arms straight, blue eyes sparking and jaw clenched.

"You hit me," Yang said in a low voice.

"I did!" she snapped angrily. "Wh… what are you going to do about it, you neanderthal? Push me down? Make me yours, or hurt me, o-or kill me, or what?! I don't care! I'm… I'm not your toy!"

Weiss was fully prepared to bolt from the room at a moment's notice. Yes, she was a cheerleader and a star athlete in physical education class, but she had a feeling that if she got in a fight with Yang, she would lose. And perhaps not survive the encounter.

But she was not prepared for the pain that slowly crept into the thug’s face. Revulsion, confusion. Lowering her hand, she did indeed close it into a fist, but what she said was very different from Weiss’s expectations.

"You really think… I would ever harm a hair on your head? That I'm that kind of person?"

"How should I know?! All you ever do is say you're going to 'get' me!" Her arms gestured at their surroundings, at the remote and abandoned nature of them. "Well, you have me now! Are you going to finish 'getting' me or not?!"

Then Yang's face started to get more and more angry. She wasn't moving, but she also wasn't saying anything else. More than anything, Weiss found that to be terrifying - because she couldn't figure out what it meant.

Not wasting any more time, she fled out the doorway and down the stairs. Whether she had a ride home or not, she didn't want to spend another moment with the brute. She had done her time.

Of course Weiss expected to hear the racket of the motorcycle coming up from behind. Her insides clenched in fear at the sound, but she'd known it was a possibility.

"GET ON!"

"NO!" she called over without even looking, arms tucked tight around her body. "Leave me alone!"

"I can't, you stupid nitwit! Get on the bike!"

Finally, Weiss's pace slowed and she turned to glare at the blonde, trying to ignore the intensity in her face - to ignore the fullness of the lips that had just done unspeakable things moments ago. "Not going anywhere with you, ever again! You tried to take advantage of me!"

"I did not! I tried to wake you up outta that boring life you have! You're not happy without a little spice - and you know it!" Glancing at the road ahead of her, she repeated, "But this ain't about that! Get on!"

"Never again, okay?! I..." Finally, she stopped, and Yang followed suit. "You shouldn't have done that, you didn’t even ask! I'm not a… whatever you are, that isn't me, and you had no right to try to t-turn me into one! And I think you knew that, so you pretending you're not to blame is so childish!"

Her hand reached out for Weiss's forearm. "Schnee-"

"SHUT UP! Don't touch me!" Jerking away, she started to walk again. "Just leave me alone! Go find another target for your candles and your… your advances!"

"This ain't about me!" Vaulting off her bike, she grabbed Weiss from behind. "Get on the bike, right now, you goddamn idiot!"

"WHAT?!" Struggling, she tried to kick Yang - and succeeded. Didn't seem to make a bit of difference. "Let me go! What are you doing - how dare you go any further after I specif-"

"QUIET!" she hissed hard. "You don't want them to hear us!"

"MAYBE I DO! MAYBE I WANT THE WHOLE WORLD TO HEAR ME!"

Losing her patience, Yang spun her around and glared directly into her eyes, talking more quietly than ever. "You don't know where you are, cupcake. This place, it's safe for me. Barely . Not for you. So I'm not letting you out of my sight until you're back in the La La Land you normally call home."

"Excuse me?! I didn't ASK you to protect me!"

"Who cares?" Yang growled. "Doesn't matter if either of us wants that. It's just happening. Get on or I'll literally roll along next to you the whole way, but I promise you're gonna be in a lot more danger the slower we go."

Finally, the fog from the kiss seemed to roll back within Weiss's mind, and she saw how Yang was actually shaking . Not from rage, but from anxiety - from fear on her behalf. This was the first time she had ever looked afraid of anything to her knowledge, and that stopped her from responding with another flippant dismissal.

"You're serious. There are really… this is where a dangerous element hangs out?" A brief nod. "Then why would you bring me here?!"

"Like I said, nobody will scrap with me. They know they'll go down; even if they take me, my girls will come for revenge. On the other hand, a little piece of penny candy like you, walking all by herself? That’s no challenge at all." Her hand reached up to Weiss's cheek, but when she saw her flinch she stopped an inch away. "Just... do us both a favour and get on the damn bike. I'll take you home."

The prospect caused Weiss to glare. "You really will? No games, no detours, nothing?"

"Promise."

"Schnees stand by their promises. They also don't forgive people who break them." Glancing over her shoulder at how one of the streetlights was flickering on and off, she took a step toward the bike. "This is your last chance. Don't toy with me."

"Scout's honour." Then she picked Weiss up and sat her on the bike, as before, and slid on behind her. "You better… Yang on tight." The roar of the engine drowned out the sound of Weiss's groan at the horrible line.

------------------------

By the time Yang followed Weiss's clipped directions to her house in Atlas Heights - a neighbourhood where Yang's noisy hog was most certainly unwelcome - both of them had calmed down significantly, though there was still a great deal of tension. After helping her down, Yang allowed the engine to idle as she turned to her.

"You stopped a little short," Weiss remarked.

"Wouldn't want your mommy and daddy to see you getting dropped off by me." Reaching down into her saddlebag, she produced Weiss's books and pushed them into her arms gently. "Take it easy, Schnee."

"Wait." Yang didn't say anything or move. "You… I don't know if you were being honest about the danger back there or not. But even if you exaggerated slightly, I guess I appreciate being driven home."

"Believe me, I undersold it. You gotta be tough as nails to hang out in my neck of the woods. The only reason nobody messes with my creampuff little sister is because they know she's my little sister. And the Dragons are always safe, of course."

That made her blink slightly. "You have a little sister?"

"Yeah, she's a junior. Why, that surprise you?" Then she grinned, half-wolfishly but half-wan. "Probably thought I grew out of some kind of tree fungus."

"The possibility had crossed my mind, yes." Biting her lip, she glanced over toward her house, then back. "What happened… in the depot. Why did you have to do it? That was the scariest, most horrible thing that ever happened in my life."

"You liked it." When Weiss ground her teeth together, Yang held up both hands. "Just calling 'em like I see 'em, Princess. If you really didn't want me to kiss you, it never would have happened; you're not some weakling, even if you’re not a roughneck like me. So somewhere, deep down, you were at least curious, even if that's all there was to it. And now you satisfied that curiosity. You’re welcome."

Weiss wanted to shout at her, to deny everything. But there was no use in delaying the inevitable. "So maybe it did feel good. That does not mean I wanted it with you, and does not mean I want it to happen again, alright?!"

"Fine. It won't." Yang's smile finally faded again. "And I won't bother you again at school; none of the Dragons will. You tried being with a brute, and I think you liked it more than you want to admit… but if you're really done with your test drive, that's cool. Held up your end of the bargain, so I'm not gonna go back on my word."

"Fine. Guess that's honourable of you. See you in class." With that, she turned and walked up the sidewalk.

“Night, Schnee.”

But when she got to her door, she couldn't help but look again. Yang was still on her bike, still staring up at the house. Waiting for her to make it safely inside. Her mouth dropped open, but she decided to suppress any and all urges to call out to her, or otherwise alter her course. They had already agreed to leave things that way. So she gave a brief wave and went inside, and that was that.

Except it wasn't. After she had unloaded her books, finished what little homework she had left to do and readied for bed, there was no longer anything to distract her from the intrusive thoughts about Yang's kiss. About how much more exhilarated she had felt than ever before in the entirety of her short life. Against her will and all her best planning, she rolled over and squealed into the pillow at the thought of what had happened.

First kisses always do that to a person.

#Princess and The Dragons #freezerburn #freezerburn fanfic #1950s AU #rwby fanfiction #rwbyremnants

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pigpenscrolls · 2 years ago

Text

Defective Merchandise ~1~

I'm tired. I’m always tired. After no matter how many hours of sleep, or days I spend in bed, my body always feels like a heavy, lead weight. It usually takes me an hour or two to actually get up once I wake up, and if I do manage to stand up for the day, it takes even more effort to utilize whatever time is left. As usual, I spent the beginning of this afternoon just scrolling through my dry phone, riddled with all the Pokemon news and Battle Digests I couldn’t avoid no matter how hard I tried. In this day and age a phone can be anything with all the modules we have available. Most people invent and make their own, sometimes sharing them with others, but the most popular and sought out one is the Pokedex, which I’ll never touch. Living in a pokemon obsessed world when you have no interest in pokemon is a wild endeavor. You can’t go into a home renovation store without seeing shelves of jigglypuff childrens room carpets, fungoos salt and pepper shakers, or (cruelty-free) squirtle shell dresser knobs . One time I tried to buy some incense that would help me stay awake and the lady wouldn’t sell it to me because I didn’t have any pokemon to make us of it.

At 3 o'clock in the afternoon I finally spilled out of bed, landing myself on the floor. My legs and my body felt like a wet soggy towel, but I stood up anyway and slumped down the stairs, one slow step at a time. At the base of the stairs, staring out the window was my brother, Falkner, the town gym leader. “Morning, Gretchen! Good day to be outside battling, isn’t it?” He said with energy. The idea of having to talk to him, especially about Pokemon, made my legs feel even heavier. “Doesn’t your new game come out today?” He asked, turning to me with his chipper lopsided smile and wide eyes. “Yeah,” I said sitting down at the table, “release is at five. I already paid for it so I just need to go get it.” “With the money I gave you last week?” I said nothing. “You know, there are better things to be spending your money on.” He said, sitting down at the table across from me. I placed my hand on the back on my neck, “whatever.” Better things meant pokeballs and battling items. “Hey Wretch,” he said, throwing me that awful nickname. I turned towards him just in time to catch a small coin bag thrown at my chest. “Some spending money. Don’t waste it on something stupid.” “Sure, Hackner.” Stupid, in my brothers vocabulary, meant another game, or stolen or scalped merchandise from the local thugs. I can’t say I like giving them any money, especially when it’s the allowance from my brother I earned doing nothing, but they’re the only market in the whole region who will sell battle items to anyone who has the money, regardless of how many pokemon or gym badges you have, or don’t. Which is good for when all you want is some damn incense. ~~ Pokemon battling probably gives you a lot to feel proud of, if you’re good at it. Otherwise you end up sitting on a route corner, desperate for some passerby to come and beat up your team of pet rats, followed by some tag-line about how proud you are of them anyway. And you’d do this for months, probably, until your parents are calling you, begging you through tears to just come home. What would be the point of subjecting myself to that embarrassment when I already live in the shadow of my brothers wings, flying freer than I ever will, no heavy boulders, prickly bushes, or anxiety holding him back? I could never be on Falkner’s level. His energy and motivation alone have me beat, and it shows in just the weight of our steps. I hate going out into public as it is; it irritates me when people recognize me. “Are you buying pokeballs? Will you finally join your brother?” “Are you going to fight alongside your brother?” “Will you be joining your brothers gym?” Or worse yet: “Are you going to try and defeat Falkner?” Join him? Defeat him? With what? A team of rats and bugs that don’t require any special skill to catch, just to throw them to my brothers highly specialized (and legally officiate) team en mass like the rest of the toddlers and schoolchildren in this town who delude themselves into thinking they’ll be anything more than glorified pet owners? No, I won’t be joining him, or defeating him. I’ll just continue to live off him like a parasite, stuck in the confines of freelance programming gigs and the occasional graphic design commission, earning nowhere near enough to move away somewhere. Speaking of which, how much money did Falkner give me? 20,000 yen. Boujee gym leaders... What did he expect me to do with this? He didn’t even tell me to pick up take-out. The Pokemart passed by me in my peripheral. I turned my head to glance at all the shimmery new pokeballs in the display window. Pokeballs, great balls, ultra balls, some special ones I didn’t recognize, all marked with a price - the original pokeball’s price tag being the largest in size, marked at the cheapest, 200, as it was the standard for beginners. You weren’t even allowed to buy the higher gear unless you had a certain number of gym badges to prove you can handle it, regardless of how many pokemon you had. Had I went in and bought one I’d be stuck with the embarrassment of only being allowed the most basic gear: original pokeballs, your standard weak potion, and some other cheap medicines. As I was needlessly staring at merchandise I'd never make use of, I caught a glimpse of my own wretched reflection in the window. No wonder Falkner calls me that. We share the same blue hair, and blue eyes, but he carries himself much better. There’s so much more love and pep in the things he does; his voice doesn’t crack when he tries to speak, his steps are as light as his birds’, yet just as fierce as all his good intentions. Every move he makes has meaning, whereas I haven’t brushed my hair in 3 weeks, and I’m just now leaving the house to grab a video game. There was a midnight release I didn’t go to because I didn’t want to walk the 2 blocks to the game store to pick it up. I didn’t want to be surrounded by a bunch of people having fun I couldn’t join in on because nobody wants the gym leader’s weird and estranged younger sister hanging around with no purpose. No wonder I was bumming Falkner out. I’m a textbook disappointment. With no control over my legs or voice, I walked inside. Normally, no one would catch me in here on my own free will; usually I was with Falkner, or picking up supplies for Falkner with a list officiated by my brother’s stamp himself to prove I’m not some rocket grunt trying to scalp battle items. But this time, I walked up to the counter with shoulders more hunched than usual and asked, after a long, awkward pause. “O...one standard pokeball, please.” You’d think Arceus itself had walked through Violet City, with the amount of sheer perplexity on the store clerks face. Don’t..look at...just give me the item, please. I tried not to sigh, close my eyes, and pass out. The familiar stares of recognition and surprise were physically paining me. I could feel the lasers in their eyes burning holes in the back of my neck. I’d only wished it was real, killing me instantly. The store clerk placed my new item in a small brown paper bag, and I stiffly walked out. People had recognized me. If anyone was on friendly terms with Falkner, they’d surely ask him the next time they see him, “your sister caught a pokemon?” I tried not to think about it, deciding to just get back as soon as possible. Let them think what they wanted, I just wanted to be away from eyesight. I’d catch the same battle fodder everybody else does just to say they did. Something easy, something Falkner knows how to deal with, a simple flying type. There are Pidgey on Route 31 this time of day. Shoving the pokeball in my pocket, and the paper bag in a recycle bin, I headed East, to Route 31. ~~ The pokemon on Route 31 required no skill to catch. Most of the time, you wouldn’t even need to battle; the pokemon here have adapted to living so close to the city, most are just naturally friendly towards people. A few yards in front of me, a wild Pidgey sat preening its wings. Having noticed but caring very little for me, it still watched cautiously. This was it. I pulled out my single little pokeball and pressed the center button. I never took any classes on how to aim these things (though they were offered). Instead, I just took a deep, nervous breath, and threw it. It flew, fell, rolled, and stopped at the Pidgey’s feet. From what I knew, that should still have worked. The Pokeball opened, but Pidgey didn’t go inside of it: something came out. “Wh-what?” I blinked. The Pidgey was unfazed, and I quickly realized why. A Weedle had come out of the pokeball. The pokeball I bought from the store, that should definitely not have had a Pokemon inside, but it did, and there it was. Face to face with its own wild predator. I was so stunned that when the pokeball returned to me, instead of catching it I just let it hit me and fall back to the ground. Weedle turned to look at me in confusion and fear as Pidgey started rearing up its wings. Wha-what do I do? That wasn’t supposed to happen! Then I realized something was off about the Weedle. The barb that’s normally on the top if it’s head was chipped. Instead of a pointed tip, it was a broken stub. As fast as I possibly could, probably pulling a muscle in the process, I ran to Weedle, and snatched it up just as Pidgey’s beak missed it and hit the ground. As I passed it, the pokeball systematically returned to me. I can outrun a single Pidgey; I did all the time playing with Pudge, Falkner's first Pidgey now a Pidgeot, growing up. But if it started kicking up dust and calling for more, it was over for us -- it was over for Weedle, and Falkner would never forgive me for that. Neither would I. I felt sand hit my back as I ran down the path back towards town, only hoping I wasn’t about to lead a whole flock of them back to town. Another mess for my brother to clean up. Still, I kept running. By the time I made it back to the town entrance my legs were so tired I couldn’t feel them anymore, my lungs felt like they might burst, and I felt like I might throw up. I sat down against the side of the “Route 31” sign post, and caught my breath, waiting to see if anything followed me. Hopefully one Pidgey wasn’t going to bother itself with a runaway Weedle, who, speaking of, was still curled up in my arms. It looked up at me with two beady, compound eyes and made a weak sound. Where did you come from? I thought, but just as I did a runner in a tracksuit and a Hitmonlee in tow came passing by. “Hey, are you okay?” He asked. “You look like a mess! You should get you and your pokemon to the Center. There are places there to rest up.” He jogged off. He didn’t recognize me, and I didn’t recognize him so he wasn’t on personal terms with my brother. Or maybe that’s just how bad I looked. I shifted positions and a pain tinged through my legs; they were so sore. Sand fell from my hair down into my shirt and down my back. Some went down the back of my pants. I was a mess. I needed to get home. “Sorry about this,” I said to Weedle, who I doubt could understand me anyway. “Re-return?” I said hesitating, pointing the pokeball back at Weedle, putting it safely back inside in a beam of red light. ~~ I returned home on sore feet that wished for death. When I walked inside Falkner was still sitting at the table with a cup of something warm in hand watching the news on TV. Pudge, resting outside his pokeball in a nest made of cotton stuffed fleece, alertly opened his eyes and jerked his head around in my direction. He can smell Weedle… “Holy...! You get in a fight, Gretchen? What happened to you?” I was too tired to even make something up. “I need a shower,” is all I said, and I painfully climbed up the stairs past my brother, unaware of the little commodity in my pocket. Pudge followed me, flying up the stairs next to me, keenly eyeing my pocket all the way up. Once in the bathroom I combed as much sand as I could out of my hair, which was knotted to hell after weeks of leaving it. I shook off my clothes, letting the sand pile up on the floor. I’d have to sweep that up later. My legs hurt so bad I took my shower kneeling down, standing only made me shake. I never did exercise much - or at all. Once back in my room in clean, grit-free clothes I sat on the edge of my bed, holding the shrunken pokeball in my hand, staring at it, unable to decide what to do next. There was a pokemon in there, one I hadn’t caught on my own. Who did? Who was its trainer? How did it end up in circulation at the Mart? Pudge perched outside my door, occasionally tapping on the doorknob with his beak, which was no doubt grabbing Falkners attention. I jumped at an unpleasantly loud knock on my door. “Wretch? Are you in there? There’s sand all over the bathroom floor! What did you get into today? I thought you were picking up some game!” “Go away, Hack, I’m tired.” “Tired? You’ve been awake for like, 2 hours. Let me in, why don’t you?” I ignored him. There was no way I could tell him. There was no way I was going to be able to keep it. I couldn’t train a pokemon, and a Weedle hardly even works as a pet. To make matters worse, Falkner was a flying type specialist, not bug. What was I thinking? Despite my aching legs, I ran back out past my brother, who chased after me towards the door, Pudge right behind him. “Gretch! Gretchen! Where are you off to now, seriously! Please,” he pleaded still chasing after me. “Talk to me, sis!” I stopped and turned to him, also stopping him in his tracks. Pudge fluttered his wings in place next to Falkner, wanting to follow me but a Pokemon as loyal as that wouldn't leave it's concerned trainers side, no matter how interesting I suddenly may be. “I swear, I will when I get back.” I ran off again back to the Pokemart. ~~ “I’m really sorry to bother you with this, but I need to make a return.” “That’s no problem! What will you be returning?” The PokeMart clerk, pulling out a returns book with pages of the different bar-codes. “This Pokeball I bought from you guys already had a Pokemon in it.” The store clerk looked up from the returns voucher book with both a puzzled and surprised look on her face. “That’s very odd. May I see it?” I handed the pokeball to her and she scanned it with the hand tool normally used to scan items. She looked at the register screen for a few seconds before turning back to me. “I’m very sorry about this, that doesn’t normally happen. When people make returns on items such as pokeballs they go through our systems to make sure they’re empty, but this one must have been missed. I’ll take it off your hands for you, replace it for free, and throw in a premier ball for the troubles.” “Oh, th-thank you.” I said, having no intentions of using one ever again. I’ll give them to Falkner if I can ever bring myself to tell him about it. New pokeball and premier ball in bag, in hand, I left the store back out onto the street. A few yards ahead of me across the cleanly swept, cobblestone city clearing, I could see the Pokemon Center. Outside sitting on one of the benches was a smiling trainer. On the ground in front of her was a Spearow, flapping its wings with happily ruffled feathers, clearly in love with its trainer. I almost felt...envy? Weedle, with its stubbed barb, flashed in my mind on repeat. What’ll happen to it? It’ll get released for sure, but then what about wild Pidgey and Spearow? It happens every day to wild Weedle, but this one had been caught, and safe in the hands of a trainer who at some point took on the responsibility of not letting anything bad happen to it, then sold back off for money to pay for who cares what. The mental image of Weedle, that Weedle, trying to fight off a horde of Spearow with just its stub caused a twinge in my heart that was going to last for as long as that image would play in my mind. “On second thought,” I said walking back into the store, “I’ll keep that Pokemon.” The store clerk looked confused for about half a second, before an understanding smile spread across her face. “Okay!” She said. “I’m sure Weedle would like that, too.” Out of courtesy, I gave back the two extra pokeballs I had and trudged home with Weedle back in my pocket. Falkner might actually kill me.

#Defective Merchandise #pokemon #fanfic #pokemon fic

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silverfootstepswrites · 7 years ago

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title Kiss kiss summary Fill in the blanks, stupid. pairing Itasaku

“Welcome! Four people?”

“Yeah. Not really here for that. Need to talk to the person in charge here,” a gruff voice replied.

“Okay. Hold on one moment please,” a girl giggled in return.

Sakura pulled a fresh cigarette out of the box. She listened to the footsteps tap upstairs, up to her office door. Four knocks. Quick. Nervous.

She lit her cigarette.

“Come in,” she called. The door burst open.

“Mama, there are some suspicious people here!” Moegi huffed and puffed.

“I heard Kansai-ben. They sounded a little rough,” Sakura agreed. Sighing, she rose from her chair. She shed her sweater and stepped into the pair of high heels waiting at the door. Moegi fidgeted, her eyes darting back and forth.

“Are you really going to be okay, Mama? Are you in trouble?” she fretted. Smiling, Sakura plucked her cigarette from her mouth. She snubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray. With her free hand, she squeezed Moegi’s cheeks together.

“Go check on Tenten and see if she needs any help at the bar,” she instructed instead. She released the girl and then headed down the stairs. Slow and leisurely steps that echoed. As she descended, she got a good view of the whole club.

It was still early in the night, but there were already three groups of clients. Most of them looked like businessmen who had stopped in after work. The girls looked busy- laughing and listening to the men tell stories. Tenten was at the bar with a cocktail shaker. She met Sakura’s eyes but Sakura gave a slight shake of her head. Tenten’s mouth twisted but she stayed put.

“How can I help you gentlemen?”

The man at the front of the group lifted his head. He had a jagged scar down his cheek. He and his companions were all dressed similarly in cheap black suits. All four of them wore sunglasses indoors. And one had a shaved head. The bald one bared his teeth at her.

“I asked for the person in charge. Not another floozy,” the scarred man grumbled.

Sakura folded her arms across her chest.

“I am in charge. Why don’t you boys have a seat and then we can talk?” she replied, smile fixed in place.

“I already said that I ain’t here to chat with you. I’ve heard there’s someone I can talk to here about Special K,” the man stated. His fists clenched, probably to intimidate her into talking. But Sakura only blinked.

“Like I just said, I would be happy to talk once we take a seat. This is the entrance to my establishment. I would prefer we not block it,” she explained, still smiling. The man’s eyes narrowed. He grabbed the a passing waiter and snatched a bottle of wine. Smashing it against the side of the bar, he pointed the jagged edge at Sakura. Several of the girls in the club screamed. And then a hush fell over the entire room. People twisted in their seats to stare.

“Listen, bitch. See these tattoos? I’m with the Uchiha group. Call your boss over or I’ll make you talk,” he snarled. He pulled up the sleeve of his suit to reveal a dark blue and red tattoo of an oni. From the clarity of the ink, it didn’t look like an old mark.

“Really,” sighed Sakura, looking down at her wine-splattered dress. It was completely ruined.

The man grabbed her, squeezing her forearm hard. Sakura winced.

“I’ll cut that pretty face to ribbons. Let’s see how well your establishment does then,” he laughed. He held the tip of the bottle to her throat. It pricked at her skin.

When Sakura simply stared, he shook her.

“Do it!”

Sakura held her hand out. It trembled.

“The phone, please,” she called. It took a moment, but one of the girls launched herself over the back of her booth. She scrambled under the bar to grab the landline. And then she thrust it into Sakura’s hand. Her wet eyes stared up at the man holding the broken bottle.

Sakura dialed a number. She cleared her throat once and then stopped herself as the glass prickled at her skin.

“Hi. I have a very angry person here from the Uchiha group. He wants to talk to someone about Special K,” Sakura explained in an even voice. The girl who had given her the phone knelt at her side, hugging her legs. Sakura reached down with her free hand to pat her head. The voice on the other end asked something.

“Yes. They did. Thank you.”

Sakura hung up the phone. And the man with the scar only stared at her.

“Boss says if you want to know to bring in your informant. Because no one is telling you anything,” she relayed. The yakuza grit his teeth. His beady gaze darted around the room.

“Looks like you’ve still got a big head. Think your boss is protecting you?” he scoffed. He jerked his head. His cronies immediately set to work smashing barstools and pushing glasses off the tables. When one of the clients tried to stop them, the bald one punched him in the face. The hostesses screamed, clinging to each other and cowering in corners.

Scarface grinned at Sakura, showing his crooked teeth.

“The Uchiha’s run this city. You’re looking to the wrong person to protect you, babe.” He caressed the side of Sakura’s face with the sticky bottle. She glared at him.

“Then you run and tell your boss. To come and negotiate with me. Because I don’t talk to limp-dick little boys with mommy issues,” she hissed in return. His smile disappeared. Letting the bottle drop, he grabbed her by the hair instead.

“You know what, bitch? I’ll do just that. And let’s see if you still talk so big.” He tugged her hair extra hard before pushing her. She stumbled backward. The side of her forehead collided with the edge of the bar.

Guffawing, the thugs smashed one of the glass coffee tables for good measure.

The hostesses and clients leapt from their hiding places as soon as the men turned their backs to leave. One of the customers ran over the broken glass to help Sakura sit up. Blood trickled from the shallow cut between her fingers.

“Mama!” one of the girls shrieked.

“Quick! Grab a towel! Ayu, call an ambulance!” Tenten barked, already grabbing the reins.

“Shit. That looks bad. Should I go after them?” he asked in her ear. He let her rest against his chest as the world wavered. She shook her head.

“Aunt-” he tried again. Sakura grabbed the front of his shirt. She was immediately sorry that she got blood on his nice suit. But he didn’t seem to mind.

“Don’t call me that. Just stay put, Tommy,” she croaked. His arms tightened around her. The hard shape of his gun dug into her spine, painfully.

“So…you mean to tell me that you smashed up a hostess club last week…” Sasori said. He spun a pencil between his fingers, staring at the goons. The four idiots bobbed their heads up and down. They were all tough talk and swagger until they sat in front of the higher-ups. Then they were cowering on the sofa, hands on their knees.

“Over what? That club has never given us trouble before,” Kisame spoke up, puffing out a deep breath on his cigar. At this, the four fools sat up even straighter. The Uchiha-gumi’s second-in-command had been somewhat of a loose cannon in his youth. Even now, youngsters trembled at the stories of the Blue Demon’s brass knuckles. And they glinted as bright as ever on his hands as he held his cigar. Sasori resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Uh…well…Big Bro, we heard a rumor that someone at the club had an inside connection. Had some good leads,” the one with the scar stammered. And then, turning his head muttered, “Turns out there was nothing but a mouthy bitch.”

Sasori snapped the pencil between his fingers.

“A mouthy bitch? What did she look like?” he demanded. The four men jumped at his tone.

“Uh…pretty, I guess? Maybe in her early thirties? Pink hair…” one of the men listed.

“Well shit,” sighed Kisame. He held the cigar between his teeth as he looked over at Sasori.

“You’re going to want to tell that to the Godaime. Lemme go see if he’s busy,” grunted Kisame as he got to his feet.

“Wait! She’s just some hostess! Do we really have to bother the kumicho over this?” the one with the scar asked. Kisame paused, his hand resting on the sliding door.

“Was she the Mama?” he queried. When Scarface nodded, Kisame let out a harsh guffaw.

“Good luck, kid,” he simply said as he left the room.

Several minutes later, they were sitting in a room deeper in the house. And at the back of the room sat a man in a traditional deep blue haori over grey pants. Only his dark eyes moved as the men sat seiza in front of him- backs straight and feet under their buttocks. The position made them cramp and ache, but what choice did they have under such an intimidating stare?

“I’m busy. Tell me,” he demanded. And his deep, quiet voice sent a chill up all their spines. Sasori and Kisame stood on either side of him. It looked suspiciously like Sasori was trying not to smile.

“Uh…forgive us for wasting your time, Kumicho. We had a run-in at a hostess bar. I think it was called Twilight Dreams?” the man with the scar began.

The boss’ eyebrow might have twitched.

“Word on the street was that someone there had an in with some ketamine. So we went to talk and the Mama there was downright disrespectful to the Uchiha name,” he went on.

The boss opened his mouth.

“This should have been made clear to you. But the Uchiha-gumi does not handle drugs,” he growled. Scarface twitched.

“Yes! Of course, Kumicho! It’s just that I was told to investigate who might be selling the stuff onto our- I mean your turf!” he scrambled to explain. The boss glared at him but motioned for him to continue speaking.

“Anyway, the Mama mouthed off at us so we smashed up her shop. Just to scare her. So I’m asking if you could send people to really teach them a lesson? She didn’t just curse at me, she’s making a fool of the Uchiha name, Kuimcho!”

The boss stared him down for the longest time. And then he clicked his tongue.

“Truly wasting my time with this,” he said. But then he sighed. “Make a formal apology to her. We’re yakuza- not vagrants.”

“Kumicho?!”

“Now get out,” he then ordered, already getting to his feet.

Sakura stared out the window from her second floor office. She exhaled, smoke rising in wisps from her lips. Tapping her cigarette against the edge of the ashtray, she glanced down at her computer screen. The numbers on the spreadsheet all read green except for a few areas. Cigarette in her mouth, she bent over to type out a quick reply.

When a knock disturbed her, she tapped the send button. Shutting her laptop, she used the point of her shoe to push her bottom drawer closed. It locked in a series of rapid clicks. And then she turned back toward the window, one arm wrapped around her middle.

“Come in,” she replied.

“Mama,” Moegi hedged. Sakura glanced over her shoulder. The poor girl was shaking.

“It’s the same scary people as last time. And they brought even more with them,” she whispered.

“Finally. Took them long enough,” Sakura grumbled. She whisked her blazer off the back of her chair and draped it over her shoulders. It was the color of cream. Underneath was a black dress with thin straps. A little more revealing than she normally wore. But this was for a good occasion. All the while, Moegi continued to fret.

“Go back to the front. Your regular usually comes today,” Sakura reminded her. Moegi continued to hesitate until Sakura physically pushed her out the door. Snubbing her cigarette out, Sakura slowly made her way downstairs.

Just like the week before, the four ruffians stood in the entrance of the club. But behind them stood two other men. Sakura matched eyes with the one with blue hair and diamonds glittering his ears. He winked at her.

“I’m taking the VIP table in the back. Get it ready for me,” Sakura announced, raising her hand.

“Yes, Mama!” the staff replied. The servers immediately whirled around gathering clean glasses and coasters.

The VIP table was tucked all the way in the back of the club. It had the usual booth seats with the square table in the middle. But there were also sheer glittery curtains to afford a little more privacy.

Sakura sat in the cushioned seat. The two new men sat on either side of her while the four brutes sat catty-corner from them.

Scarface’s entire face contorted as he sank into the seat. Hands on his knees, he bent his neck.

“I’m here to apologize,” he began.

Sakura held up her hand. She pushed a menu over to him, lips smiling.

“This is a hostess club. If you want to talk to me, you have to buy my time,” she instructed. Scarface stared unblinking at the menu.

“I ain’t here for no drinks. I’m here to apologize for trashing your club last time,” Scarface ground out. Sakura widened her eyes.

“Oh. You are? Then apologize after you buy me a drink,” she insisted. Scarface’s eyelid twitched. Kisame sighed.

“Easy, Mama. I’ll buy you a glass of Pinot Noir,” offered Sasori, trying to pick up the menu. Sakura pushed his hand aside, keeping her eyes fixed on Scarface. He slapped his palms down on his seat.

“Man, I’m just trying to apologize to you, you crazy woman. Just cut it out with the fucking drinks!” he yelled and then immediately sat back down, his face going red. While his friends attempted to calm him down, Sasori reached over for Sakura’s wrist. He glanced under her sleeve. And then pushed the lapel of her blazer aside with the back of his hand.

“Oh my,” he simply said. Scarface’s head jerked up in time to see Kisame pushing Sakura’s bangs aside to reveal a white bandage. She met his panicked look with a wide smile.

“Shit. The boss is going to have a fit,” Kisame muttered.

Crossing her arms across her chest, Sakura motioned with her chin toward Scarface.

“Go tell your boss that you’re mostly certainly not forgiven,” she declared. And then her smile dropped.

“Now get the fuck out of my store,” she added. As Scarface opened his mouth to protest, the cold barrel of a gun pressed to the back of his head. Swallowing down his next words, he quickly made his way from the establishment. His three friends trailed after him like little ducklings.

“I will take that Pinot, Sasori,” Sakura remarked as she watched them flee.

It took several more days for him to arrive.

It was late on a Tuesday night with rain pouring down on the city. As the door opened and shut, Ayu ran up to greet the customer, Moegi trailing her.

“Welcome! Just one?” she asked, beaming. Her smile faltered when she took in the customer’s black suit and dark sunglasses. Moegi quietly excused herself to run upstairs.

“Ah. Could I request Mama?” the man asked. Ayu giggled nervously.

“Well, that’s certainly not common. But if she’s not busy, I’m sure that Mama would be happy to see you. Would you like to look at a menu while you wait for Mama? I’m sure she’ll be right down,” she babbled, handing him a laminated sheet. But the man shook his head.

“Dom Perignon White Gold. A bottle for each table,” he immediately said. The girl’s eyes bugged out.

“Um… you mean just one for your table, correct?” she asked, sweating. The man didn’t seem the least bit annoyed.

“A bottle for each table,” he repeated, handing over his credit card.

Sakura came down the stairs. She glanced his way. And then, not greeting him, she raised her hand.

“The VIP table,” she called out, already strolling to the back.

“Right away, Mama!” voices chorused back.

Ayu looked from Sakura’s retreating back to the intimidating man.

“Well…I guess she wants you to follow her?” she wondered.

“Of course,” the man murmured. He brushed past the girl.

Moegi sidled up next to Ayu. She looked at the credit card in the girl’s hand. It was matte and completely black.

“Wow. That guy must be loaded. Who is he?” she whispered. The girls jumped when a towel flew at them from the bar. Tenten scowled.

“Get the man his champagne!” she scolded the gossiping girls.

Sakura sat, her left leg crossed over her right knee. Her dress was white with sparkles across her chest. It was one of her rare strapless dresses. As she settled in, she adjusted the sleeves of the black blazer she had draped over her shoulders.

“Dom Perignon White Gold, Mama,” one of the servers announced as he set the bottle and two glasses down on the table. Sakura’s expression thawed a little. She uncrossed her arms.

“My, my, Uchiha Itachi. Feeling generous, aren’t we?” she commented.

Chuckling, Itachi took the bottle. He grasped the bottom. Pointing the top away from her, he carefully popped the cork and poured her a glass. The light gold champagne bubbled pleasantly. When he handed her the flute, she accepted with fingers skimming over his. He didn’t pour himself a glass.

He looked around the shop as she took a sip.

“This place looks good. I heard it was bashed up quite a bit,” he commented.

“Is that what the Dom Peri’s for?” she queried, staring him down over the lip of her glass. Itachi waved the thought away.

“No. That’s just for you,” replied Itachi.

“Hmmm,” she hummed into her champagne. Pretending she didn’t see his smile.

As they sat in comfortable silence, someone rapped their knuckles against the wall. A head poked past the curtain.

“Ah. Tommy!” Sakura greeted him. He was dressed in a charcoal suit with a light blue tie. Even his little pocket square matched the rest of his outfit. His bleached hair was a little too gaudy for him to be the average businessman.

“Just wanted to drop by and say hello, Mama. You seem busy so I won’t keep you,” he said and then his head disappeared. Itachi’s eyes narrowed.

“His Japanese was a little off…” he commented.

Sakura sighed, hand under her chin.

“Yeah. Tommy’s still learning,” she replied. She held out her glass and Itachi poured her a refill. And then, leaning back, Itachi pulled the curtain aside to stare out at the rest of the club. The man named Tommy sat together with the redheaded hostess. He put his arm around her shoulders, laughing. The girl slapped his arm in return, giggling.

“Tommy’s new blood. He’s been pretty useful. He’s handling a lot of the racketeering down in Yokohama,” commented Sakura.

She slid across the seats to settle directly beside him. She pointed at another table.

“That’s Charlie Lau. Goes by Chojuro. He’s got big connections to dealers in Hong Kong.” The man with light blue hair caught their gaze. He lifted his glass to Sakura in a salute. She winked in return.

And then she pointed to one of the servers delivering a tray of fruity cocktails.

“That’s Sai. He wanted to shoot that idiot so badly before. I made him promise to be good today.” As if he could hear her, the server looked over. When he met Sakura’s gaze, he dipped his head ever-so-slightly. And then Sakura pointed to the bartender.

“And that’s Tenten. She’s my number two.”

Sakura took Itachi’s hand so that it would release the curtain.

“My point being that when my boys come in, they’re dressed for the part. So that they don’t scare my customers and disrupt my business,” Sakura said. She pointed at Itachi’s sunglasses. And then waved her hand over his black suit with black shirt. Itachi looked down at himself.

“Unlike your goons. Running in breaking shit and spilling drinks. Not to mention terrifying my girls. This is why I can’t stand the yakuza,” Sakura scolded. Itachi took off his sunglasses, tucking them into the front of his shirt. He ran his hand through his hair, puffing out a sigh. And then he reached inside his jacket to pull out a checkbook and a fountain pen.

“Alright. Tell me how much I owe you,” he conceded.

A snort of laughter escaped Sakura. She quickly held up her hand in front of her mouth. When Itachi looked up at her, she struggled to hide her smile.

“You yakuza are so old-fashioned. Wire the money over to us by the end of next month. I’m in no hurry. I know you’re not going anywhere,” she waved aside his offer. Pursing his lips, Itachi stared down at his checkbook, hands clasped.

“Unless being in debt to me bothers you so much,” she added as she watched his expression. Draping her arm over the back of her seat, Sakura snapped her fingers.

“Tommy.”

Itachi watched as Tommy leapt over the back of his booth and jogged over. His head poked in past the curtain again.

“Yes, Aunt?”

Sakura gestured toward Itachi with her flute of champagne.

“This is the daai lou who’s helping us pay for the club’s repairs. Say hello,” she directed.

“Daai lou,” repeated Tommy.

Tommy bowed neatly, his forehead parallel to the ground. When he lifted his head, he was grinning. Leaning against the back of the booth, he looked between them. After a long minute, he reached into his back pocket to pull out a business card. He handed it over to Itachi with both hands.

“This is my work number. Give me a call anytime. Since it looks like Aunt likes you, we can talk about a payment plan, yeah,” Tommy said, all white teeth. Itachi accepted the card. It was for a big trading company. To his surprise, the name on the card was in gold kanji.

“Iwano Deidara?” Itachi read out loud. Tommy shrugged.

“Makes it easier to do business, yeah. Somehow the people are more trusting when they think they’re dealing with their own,” he explained in return.

“Tommy-kun!” the hostesses called his name. Tommy looked over his shoulder.

“Gotta go. I ordered the champagne tower just for you, Auntie,” Tommy said, pointing finger guns at Sakura. She smiled in return.

“You’re too good to me, Tommy,” she responded.

Tommy’s head disappeared behind the curtain again. A cheer rose from the middle of the room. As the curtain fluttered, Itachi glimpsed the servers rolling out carts carrying several bottles of champagne and countless glasses.

“Daai lou?” Itachi then said, turning back to Sakura.

“It’s the same thing as what yours call you. Big brother. Although, I could have him call you Kumicho, if you’d like,” Sakura explained. Itachi shook his head. After some thinking, he reached for the empty flute. Sakura laughed as she poured him a glass.

“Now you’re speaking my language,” she remarked. They clinked glasses together.

It had been a long time since Itachi had visited her club. Long enough that the new girls had no idea who he was, anyway. They chatted at length about the old times. Several times, Itachi’s eyes were drawn to her legs or to the way her smiling mouth moved as she spoke. Each time, he shook himself out of his stupor, pretending not to notice Sakura laughing at him.

A server dropped off a flute of champagne- this one a pinker color.

“From Tommy-san,” explained Sai.

And then later came a Shirley Temple with an extra cherry garnish.

“From Shino-san,” Sai said this time, gesturing toward a bespectacled man who had arrived later in the night.

Itachi raised his eyebrow at each drink.

“Aunt Cheng. If I could have just a moment of your time,” a deep voice interrupted their conversation about an hour later. Moving the curtain aside, Kiba blinked hard at the sight before him. He bared his teeth, already reaching for his gun.

“Kiba-kun. Not in my house,” Sakura reminded him, holding up a cherry and examining it in the light. Itachi’s hand, which had flown inside his jacket, froze too. The two men stared each other down.

“Did you come here to talk about this month’s shipment?” she asked, still remarkably calm.

“Not in front of an Uchiha,” growled Kiba. His fingers were still clenched firmly around his weapon.

Sighing, Sakura reached back to adjust her dress. She slipped her hands between the cushions of the booth and pulled out a gold gun. Diamonds glinted along the side. She held it up, pointing it directly between Kiba’s eyes.

“I said not in my house, Kiba-kun,” she repeated in the same blasé tone.

He stared down the barrel of the gun at her.

“Come back tomorrow. And don’t pull that shit in my club again,” she added.

Letting out a shaky breath, Kiba lowered his hand. He bowed, eyes avoiding Itachi.

“My apologies, Aunt Cheng. I’ll be back,” he agreed. And then he disappeared, shoving the curtain back into place. Sakura slowly lowered the gun.

“You’re dealing with the Inuzuka-kai?” demanded Itachi. Sakura balanced her gun in her lap, reaching for her drink. She sipped her champagne.

“The Uchiha-gumi doesn’t touch drugs. The Inuzuka-kai does. There’s no conflict of interest there,” she replied with a shrug of her shoulder. And then she looked at him out of the corner of her eyes.

“However, I will talk with them about selling their ketamine on your turf. I assume that’s what your boys were squawking about the other day,” added Sakura. As she reached back to hide the gun again, something caught Itachi’s eye. He took her wrist, pulling it close to examine the bruises around her forearm.

“What’s this?” he demanded. Sakura said nothing. She didn’t protest as he pushed her jacket off her shoulders and examined her. As he turned her, he caught sight of the light scabs on the left side of her throat. And then he pushed her hair aside and saw the bandage that had been hiding under her bangs.

“Jing-Mei,” he growled.

Her eyes narrowed. She pulled her jacket back on in impatient yanks.

“I hate it when you call me that,” she complained, not looking at him.

“Why would you let him do that? You could’ve easily handled all four of them,” Itachi demanded. Sakura swirled the champagne around in her flute.

He was correct. There was no need to have let those four fools smash up her beloved club. Had she given the signal, Tommy and Tenten would have easily taken them out. Tenten, especially, had deadly aim and never missed.

“And start an all-out war between the Uchiha-gumi and the 24K? Is that what you want to see again?” she shot back. And then she fluffed her hair.

“Besides, my people are well-trained. They only bite when I tell them to. I won’t have another Orochimaru situation,” she said in a lower voice.

“Well, we have to figure this out. If your higher-ups find out about this before we resolve it, it won’t be pretty,” Itachi retorted. Sakura nodded.

“I am Uncle Hashirama’s favorite. He won’t let a sleight against me go,” she agreed. The Dragon Head’s wrath wasn’t something anyone wanted to risk.

Sakura’s eyes skimmed around the room as she thought. She folded her arms across her chest.

“Give me Scarface. I don’t need the other three. I do need to send a message. I’m sure Uncle already knows.”

Itachi studied her face for a long time.

“…What are you planning to do to him?” he asked, almost dreading the answer.

Her answering smile was absolutely chilling.

“You don’t get to be a Red Pole without spilling a little blood. I’ll do enough to get Uncle Hashirama off your back,” she assured him. When the color drained out of his face, Sakura’s expression softened. She took his chin and pulled his face closer.

“Or would you prefer to kill him yourself? Either way, it needs to happen,” she whispered. Itachi closed his eyes.

“Fucking shit, Sakura,” he sighed. He grasped her hand and held it to his forehead for a long time. He then pressed a kiss to her knuckles before he got to his feet. Sakura watched him with a half-smile on her lips.

“Give me your answer by the end of this week,” she said. Sakura stood too. She walked him to the door. And Itachi was acutely aware of the eyes that tracked his every movement. It was remarkable how well they blended in. Had she not pointed them out, he never would have pegged them as anything more than men blowing off some steam at the end of a long workday. She was right that they were far less noticeable than the yakuza around this part of the city. Perhaps there was something to learn from the triads.

Sakura put her hands on his shoulders.

“Don’t work too hard, Kumicho. You’ve aged poorly,” she murmured.

“Half of this is because of you,” he retorted, almost smiling.

“Only half?” she asked, looking hurt. One of the hostesses quietly handed Sakura his credit card. She slipped it into his jacket pocket, her body pressing against his. Itachi pressed his lips together.

“Cheng Jing-Mei,” he sighed, “you will be the death of me.”

Sakura took a step back.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’m just the mama of a hostess club,” she insisted. Blowing him a kiss, she waved as he turned and walked out the door.

By Saturday, a package arrived in the alley behind the club.

“Oh, that man. Even wrapping it up,” Sakura sighed fondly. Scarface struggled against the red ribbon and masking tape binding his hands and feet.

“Should we dump him in the river, Aunt Cheng?” asked Sai, tilting his head to one side.

“I would prefer to bury him alive,” Tenten suggested, leaning against her broom.

“Oh, that sounds fun, but I have other plans,” Sakura replied.

“By the way,” Sai said, hauling the man to his feet, “Who did you call when this one told you call your boss?” Tenten looked at Sakura too, just as curious. Sakura looked at them like that was the stupidest question I ever heard.

“I just called my cell and left a message. He did say to call the boss,” she retorted.

Tenten just shook her head.

“Man, you’re scary as hell, Auntie,” Sai chuckled, dragging the man towards his van.

The following Monday, a package arrived at the real estate office that served as one of the Uchiha-gumi’s many fronts. Deidara shook the box, already grimacing. He didn’t even try to open it. Instead he placed it on Itachi’s desk. Kisame made a face.

When Itachi undid the twine, the box unfolded, spreading like a platter on his desk. In the center of the cardboard sat an arrangement of ten fingers. There was no trace of blood. They were neat, white fingers- almost like they were made out of wax. In the center of the masterpiece sat a little card.

Out of 10, this is how much I appreciated your gift. I sent the head to Uncle Hashirama so everything should be good for now.

Come visit me again soon.

Kisame cringed around his cigar. He prodded at one of the fingers with a pencil.

“Damn, Aniki. She’s as crazy as she’s hot,” he remarked.

“If this is what she’s like as an ally, what was she like as an enemy?” wondered Sasori.

Itachi rested his chin in his hand.

“I kind of want to marry her. What do you think of her as an Ane-san?” he said, his tone wistful.

Kisame nearly swallowed his cigar.

“Aniki… you might want to get your head checked out,” he whispered.

#writing #itasaku #i've wanted to write this for so long #triad!sakura x yakuza!itachi #i might make this a longer thing #now i want to play sleeping dogs again #eastern suns #triad!au

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hypexion · 6 years ago

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Rastakhan’s Rumble: Quidditch Reveals

It counts because people somehow play Quidditch in real life. It’s probably more interesting than some of these neutral commons.

Make a Beast cheaper when Helpless Hatchling dies. But just one, even though similar effects have existed at Battlecry level previously. Probably not the worst thing to get randomly, but not the best either. I suppose it’s okay as a Zombeast component, since it can make other Zombeasts cheaper.

Another set, another Egg. Scarab Egg seems less great than others, since a single larger minion is often harder to clear early on. I guess having a few 1/1s to poke things is useful, but other egg choices seem better at the moment.

It’s a minion that can only attack while damaged. How creativity! Except the first attack against Dozing Marksman is free, which isn’t great. You can play another card to activate it early, but at that point you might as well play cards that don’t need activators.

Cheaty Anklebiter might heal you for three health. That’s not really that impressive. Similar cards to this don’t really see play, so this will probably follow their example and not show up much.

After many eons, Team Five has finally created a new way of using Enrage. Except Enrage was removed because they didn’t actually do that until now. Spellzerker probably isn’t that good since it needs to live to provide the boost, and Spell Damage +2 is scary enough that it probably won’t get to live. It’s probably not great for combos either, since part of your combo will need to be an activator.

Banana Buffoon gives you spells to buff your minions. I guess Quest Mage might like more ways to get spells, and Quest Paladin might like more buffs, but neither of those decks are particularly amazing. Maybe this is okay in Arena, but I don’t really see it getting far in Constructed, since better buff options are available.

Ornery Tortoise is a Warlock card but neutral. Hit yourself for five damage to get... one extra stat point. Yeah. Even you want to hurt yourself, it seems like there are better options to choose from. It’s also pretty bad as a Zombeast option unless combined with a Lifesteal Beast. Not a great card overall, but I guess not the worst thing in Arena.

What if Runic Egg had twice the health, drew twice as many cards, and costed four times more? It would be Arena Treasure Chest, and it would terrible. Even if you’re really, really hurting for card draw, this is super slow and it’s unlikely to die accidentally.

Handbuffs are now for every class with Arena Fanatic. I guess with the mechanic’s constant failure, Team Five is going for a shotgun approach to try and make it playable. Being open to all classes might cause that to happen, but probably only if there’s some way to horribly break things using Arena Fanatic.

Rumbletusk Shaker literally doesn’t make sense. It’s always in rotation with Piloted Reaper, which will be able to pull minion of the same strength. Except the Reaper is a 4/3, which is better than Rumbletusk Shaker. Although it’s probably okay for Arena.

Regeneratin’ Thug might be hard for some decks to get ride of quickly, but that’s it. Also, it dies pretty quickly if your opponent has any damage spells, so that’s not fun. This is probably okay for Arena, but so are a lot of cards.

Half-Time Scavenger is an Overkill minion with Stealth, meaning that it’s easier to get the Overkill effect. That’s kind of neat. It shouldn’t be too hard to arrange things such that you get some Armor, but I don’t think you’ll be able to trigger the Overkill effect multiple times. Any deck that cares about you gaining Armor will probably be able to redirect some damage towards Half-Time Scavenger, especially once it’s weakened from attacking.

Former Champ is another X mana 1/1 than summons an X/X minion. Big whoop. Good against some secrets, good for getting stuff to Evolve, bad to Evolve into. There’s nothing really new to talk about here.

Dragonmaw Scorcher has a useful effect, although once you reach turn five the utility starts to get diminished. But this is a Dragon, so Dragon Warrior might like in order to get a few extra Whirlwind effects. It is a little behind the curve, however, meaning it could be more of a Discover minion that one you choose to put in your deck.

Mosh’ogg Enforcer is the healthiest Taunt minion around. It also has Divine Shield, for extra damage absorption. While this does look a great road block for aggressive decks, it doesn’t provide much pressure, and is a great target for hard removal effects. This is probably another card that will see most of it’s play via Discover. Of course, it’s massive health pool does mean that Priests might want to attempt to use it as combo piece. Especially since doubling Mosh’ogg Enforcer’s health will make it even harder to kill.

Well, that’s everything. All 135 cards, including all the pointless neutral commons, forgettable rares, and Epics designed to screw you over. It’s still a while until the set comes out, so there’s still time to theorycraft a bunch of decks that will collapse on first contact with the enemy.

Overall, this expansion looks like it has some neat ideas. Hopefully some of them will see more support in further sets. And maybe Team Five will finally give up on Handbuffs. I mean, they might have finally worked out Discard, but do we really need more iterations of Handbuffs?

#Rastakhan's Rumble #Hearthstone #new cards

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rep5 · 7 years ago

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How Childish Gambino Attacks Symbolism in 4 Ways

Childish Gambino, aka Donald Glover, is an artist that cannot be categorized into one thing. He cemented his career as a writer on the early years of 30 Rock. He has shown off his comedy skills with the show Community and his stand ups. Now with the coming release of “Solo: A Star Wars Story” he will have left his mark in the acting world as well. Oh yeah! He’s also one of the most talented rappers of this generation.

Using a style he calls “Black Rock”, Childish Gambino’s lyrics cover race, gender, sexuality, and more. Through this his rap career has soared but in recent years, due to his juggling of crafts, he’s been a little absent from the rap world in recent years. With his SNL live performance of “Saturday” and “This Is America” he has come back full swing, especially with the music video of the latter.

“This Is America” has blown up on social media. The symbolism in the video and the lyrics of the song have have got many posting, reposting, and commenting on what it all means. However, the symbolism goes a little further than just the lyrics and the visuals. Childish Gambino actually attacks symbolism in 4 ways. Let’s break it down.

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Beat

Commonly the first, sometimes second, thing to be created in a song the beat hold symbolism. In the new track opens with a choir vocalized noises accompanied by a shaker. It’s quite reminiscent of “We Know The Way” from Disney’s Moana, both giving a sense of happiness and family friendly partying.

This is later stacked first with a guitar then once the beat and trill moves in it starts to morph into a trap beat. Then with an abrupt gun shot the chorus that kept the song family friendly is deafly silent. Only the trap beat continues with a recurring eery trill that brings to mind an insect tunneling into a skull (at least for me). This beat continues for awhile until the defining tone, similar to that of a horror film, slowly build and brings back the happy choir while dropping the scary tone. Once more it disappears leaving the trap beat until finally it returns this time the tone remains and the choirs vocals are chopped.

via: noise11

From a musical stand point you can see a story of happiness being unexpectedly stopped. The chaos preceding runs ramped and once things become to get worse happiness returns. However, the happiness is fleeting and upon its second rising it is not whole and not without signs of worsening.

When considering the title of the song the beat alone can express the social rise and fall of America. It can be seen to symbolize a number of downfalls that the country has faced both economically and socially. It’s when you consider more of the song that you get a clearer picture.

Style

Childish Gambino’s rap style is eclectic. Like is career it can’t be classified as one thing. It is a collectection of conscious social issues spat in his own comical way, but the way in which he does so can be compared to Kanye West as much as Andre 3000.

However in “This is America” his style is more reminiscent to the current rappers. His excessive use of rap ad-libs (from featured artists 21 Savage, Young Thug, Slim Jxmmi, Blocboy JB, and Quavo) like “yeah” and “woo” cement the comparison to artists artists like Lil (fill-in-blank), Migos, and more who are dominating the Billboard Top 100. Though he does claim to be influenced by some of those artists and has released other tracks using the style it seems a little convenient in this track.

I’ll talk about the lyrics later but the song is basically an exaggerated look at the current conditions of American violence, stereotypes, and society as whole. What better way is there to make a critique on the matter than giving an example? He is essentially representing today’s society by example. This is true for not only the style but the trap beat he’s using as well.

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Lyrics

Now for the meat of the matter, the lyrics. In the intro the choir is repetitively singing “yeah, yeah, yeah, go, go, away” which is later accompanied by Childish and Young Gun singing how they want to dance, party, and make money for you. Many have mentioned that this intro can symbolize how black men have to become palatable to white consumers in order to gain fame and money. While this may be true I’m more concerned that this chorus only being in the intro. It seems like an origin story of a man trying to leave the situation he was born in with the support of his community by perpetuating the dance, party, and making money mind-set for said community.

The chorus of the song is seemingly simple. It resonates the topic of the current America. He warns listeners to be careful while boasting about his efforts.

It actually seems to simple to overlook when considering the rest of the song, particularly the boasting. Especially when examining the other recurring chorus “get your money, black man, get your black man.” While this chorus gives reason to the boasting and constant need to continue striving for more, it also amplifies the racially charged intent of the song. The repetitive line which gets chopped into “get your, black man” can also be a foreshadow for the outro. It basically adds an appendix to the topic of the song, This is America – for the black man.

via: reddit

The first verse reflects the rise of class by his statement “look where I’m living now” while simultaneously expressing the rise of police brutality, gun violence, and continues the theme of trying rise a class higher.

Verse 2 has a pretty hidden meaning. I actually wouldn’t of found it if it weren’t for some deep research. The line is shrouded with talk about Gucci, dancing, drug deals, and hired guns but goes, “this is celly (ha), thats a tool (yeah).” This is said to refer to the shooting of Stephon Clark in his backyard while holding his cellphone which the police thought was a gun in March 18 2018.

Not many songs have intros and outros with lyrics but Gambino decided to add both in this track. While the intro can symbolize black men becoming palatable for society or a man escaping his reality by becoming palatable the outro marginalizes black men. As foreshadowed in the chorus, it compares them to both products that can be gotten and a dog trapped in the backyard. This Is America for black men.

via: indiewire

Visuals

It’s time for a quick review of what everyone has been talking about, the music video. There are tons of reviews about the symbolism from the Jim Crow-esque posted above, the burning police car that reflects the BlackLivesMatter conflicts, to the white horse of death symbolizing the apocalypse. But this article has already gotten longer than I expected so I’m going to make a lightning round of all the most interesting bits that makes the video genius.

When talking about the lyrics of the song I mentioned how the intro and outro of the song told a story about a black man partying and dancing for his community but still being seen as property. Throughout the music video Childish Gambino is literarily partying and dancing as a distraction for the deeper issues the lyrics talked about in the background of the video. This can represent the distraction of social media in a steadily increasingly violent world, the overexcitement of mundanity such as dancing over social issues, or the pressure of black men and women to perform and ignore issues facing their culture. I mean I didn’t see the guy falling from the window or the white horse on my first watch of the video. He genuinely distracted me from so much.

The perpetuation of recent historical violence is constant in this video. There’s the lyrical reference of Stephon Clark mentioned above which coincides visually with a camera pan over black men the chaos on their phones. There’s the choir shooting that refers to the Charleston Church 2015 shooting which can also express the weariness of a black man constantly “performing” for society while remaining spiritual, and even Trayvon Martin’s father look-a-like playing the guitar before getting shot, which shook the same hypocritical fan that sings along to violence. Those are all powerful pieces of symbolism but look at that video and notice the attentive care used for each weapon.

Both the handgun that kills the guitar player and the machine gun used on the choir are taken, placed in what looks like a red silk cloth, and carefully carried away. The guitarist’s body however was just dragged away. Later in the video through the chaos in the background you can see a body falling along with other acts of violence that are completely ignored and brushed aside. This expressed care for guns and disregard for life resonates more as a reflection of society.

twitter.com/thelocalemo/status/993410712407076864

It’s getting long again so here’s the last one. The ending scene corresponding with the outro shows Gambino running in the dark, away from many Caucasians (white people). Isn’t it a little too reminiscent from the running scene in Get Out? If you’re unfamiliar with Get Out it’s the Jordan Peele horror movie that reflects a form of modern day social slavery that features Childish Gambino’s Redbone track. Whether its homage to film or using it as motif it amazingly matches with the outro’s explaination of the black man as a product and trapped dog.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=SAp4gJwhNI0

Symbolism

Most artists use symbolism in lyrics and visuals but not many do it in such detail. Childish Gambino does this and more with every aspect of this song. In all 4 aspects of the song he manages to both hide and reveal the truth of the dangers of American violence and stereotypes. It attacks symbolism on every level and may be the best music video of the decade.

Did you find any symbolism not listed?? Let us know in the comments

Sources: theguardian, genius, thefader, bostonglobe,