[color=A9A9A9][h2]Northern District[/h2][/color][indent] Contrasting to Mana’s inexplicable anger, the young girl’s expression was simply resigned, her mismatched eyes reflecting the smoker’s flustered appearance before they closed. The rain pitter-pattered around them for seconds longer as Mana’s question hung in the air. What was wrong with her? She opened her mouth. Closed it. Tightened her lips. What was wrong with [i]her[/i]? The girl with the mismatched eyes stood up, slowly, calmly. She reached behind her skirt to wring what water she could, before wiping the rain off her eyes as well, opening them a second time to look at her savior, her prohibitor. A lethargic girl, slight in frame with a sickly pallor and lightless eyes. Some may see a delinquent, but she just thought the girl was [i]sad[/i]. Her index finger pressed momentarily, almost reflexively, against the outer corner of her right eye. She blinked, furrowed her brow, and let it drop. Smiled with one half of her lips. [b]“What’s that supposed to mean?”[/b] The girl tilted her head, wet black strands segmenting parts of her lovely face. [b]“There’s nothing wrong about this.”[/b] [/indent] [color=A9A9A9][h2]Central District[/h2][/color][indent] [b]“<>”[/b] Hyejin said, scrambling to shove her things into her own purse. Noisily pushing away from the table, she spent a couple seconds bowing apologetically to the other cafe patrons for the disturbance, before following Miyane out. [b]“<>”[/b] Further conversation was cut short by Miyane’s mood and the timely presence of a vacant taxi, however. After a few energetic waves through the tinted windows of a vehicle that smelled like air freshener, the driver pulled off onto the curb, towards the subdued glitz of Tamagakahara. Twenty minutes later, and there was a clear distinction between the concrete and construction of the downtown core and the nirvana-esque landscape that made up the most expensive place to rent in Tenoroshi. Seamlessly paved sidewalks so clean they were white even in the dreary weather. Lawns and hedges maintained by specialists who maintained the grounds on a daily basis. Ornate, wrought-iron fences that distracted from the cameras overseen by a 24/7 private security firm and that clearly separated the realm of ‘heaven’ from ‘earth’. Right outside the grounds of Tamagakahara were dozens of high-end boutique shops and restaurants, leased to the famously skilled or the recklessly ambitious for exorbitant prices, while the police boxes that were ubiquitous to any large city were nowhere near. At the gates, Miyane would have to show her ID before the guard, a friendly Okinawan with a stature of a bear, could wave the taxi in, sparing her the walk to her complex. Three minutes later, she stood before the Tsubaki building, the doorman walking her to the door with an umbrella in hand and then graciously ushering her in. As always, the lobby was silent. Some thought it peaceful, others thought it disquieting. White marble floors, glossy black walls. Tamagakahara, for all its exterior grandeur, was muted and restrained on the inside. No paintings, no carpets. Nothing but a crushing quiet, no matter how many parties were held up above. Unless the elevator dinged. A soft chime, accompanied by soft, deafening footsteps, heralded the presence of a Japanese man. He was tall in stature, his blue eyes intensified with his angular features. Wearing a suit (Italian, custom-tailored), he turned indifferently towards the entrance, catching the eye of the doorman, before those features softened into a smile towards the former star. [b]“<>”[/b] [hr] As the thug stormed off, the disheveled man turned his glassy gaze towards Marc, that blindingly, painfully bright smile still etched onto his features. Like a newborn deer, the stubble-faced man struggled onto his feet, falling a couple times only to pull himself back up. The focus clear focus made his actions shakier, more erratic, but after he managed it, he laughed wordlessly, clapping his thick palms together like a monkey. Then, swiftly, he embraced the blond half-foreigner. Through the suit, Marc could feel just how thin, but just how strong, the man truly was, and the stink of the alleyway was similarly powerful, like cat’s piss and rotting trash. For a moment, they stayed like this, before the faintest of whispers passed through the man’s throat. [sub][b]“...child...people...bell...birth...sorry...fix...joy…”[/b][/sub] Wheels grinded to a halt by the curb. The man thrust Marc away, stumbling back. Behind him, a white van, the side windows painted over, stood, before the doors opened up. Three men in dark suits and sunglasses came out, moving with trained purpose. Two stood by the disheveled man on either side, holding him by the arms and hauling him into the van, while the third approached Marc, flashing a badge. [b]“Officer Kazuhiro Tomoe, Criminal Affairs Bureau,” he said, “Are you alright, sir? Has he done anything to you?”[/b] [/indent] [color=A9A9A9][h2]Southwestern District[/h2][/color][indent] [b]“Fake?”[/b] He let out a charming laugh. [b]“There’s nothing fake about this, darling. It’s simply as beautiful as a fleeting dream.”[/b] Without another word, he took her by the hand and lead Marina underneath the neon lights of the Platina Club. Opening the smoky, glass doors with a smile, the long-haired host raised his voice and called out, [b]“New guest!”[/b] Immediately, twenty other artificially dashing young gentlemen stood up, and smiled in Marina’s direction. Some extended roses, while others raised their glasses in a toast, and still more bowed eloquently, before they all responded with a thundering, [b]“Welcome, princess!”[/b] In the echoing aftermath of the introduction, the rest of the ambience of the host club could be observed. Dim, incandescent lighting cast warm light and deep shadows amongst the red-and-beige theme of the place. Booths were segmented by thin wooden walls that could be opened and closed to create larger booths, while the bar area was longer than normal, extended so that pairs of host and guest could sit without every being beside anyone else. Champagne was regularly brought out for the enjoyment of the guests, and particularly high spenders had multiple hosts in the same booth, each of them plying for her attention. Soft, indistinct music played in the background, but with all the soft whispering-in-the-ears that the hosts did, it was hardly relevant. Still, it was only the afternoon. The real party didn’t start until evening set, and high-functioning office ladies needed to have men who’d cater to [i]her[/i] needs. Sliding into one of those booths, the long-haired host sat himself opposite of Marina, placing a slender hand over her own before saying softly, amiably, [b]“Well then, I, Kenshin, am at your service. Shall we begin with a couple of drinks, or do you prefer something more substantial?”[/b] [/indent] [color=A9A9A9][h2]Southern District[/h2][/color][indent] [b]“Hanh?!”[/b] [b]“That fucking brat!”[/b] [b]“Let’s teach her a lesson.”[/b] [b]“Yeah, maybe she won’t be such a mouthy sh- ooooh, fuck.”[/b] [b]“...Yeah, that’s…dunno your beef with the midget, lady, but, you’re like, new around here, yeah? Maybe don’t mess with her after all.”[/b] [hr] Tamiko rolled her eyes as Tsurushi stormed off. Good riddance for that. Watching her teacher go, the 5th Grader idly pulled out her smartphone and pointed it in the green-haired woman’s direction, before slipping it into her pockets once more. She swung her legs idly, whistling a quiet tone to herself. Until, suddenly, her vision turned black, two hands closing over them. [b]“Guess who?”[/b] went a chirpy male voice. [b]“Huomente, Yasucchi!” [/b]Tamiko pulled the hands down, reeling in the responsible delinquent until she could feel his bandana against the top of her head. [b]“Not really who I was waiting for, but I’ll be happy with you as a consolation prize.”[/b] The youth laughed, before pulling himself away from the younger girl’s grasp. Taking a couple steps for the run-up, he vaulted over the bench and sat down, swinging his backpack over. A skateboard was tied to the front, while various baubles hung from the straps. He unzipped the pack, and pulled out a shark-motif bandana, thrusting it in Tamiko’s general direction. [b]“Thought I’d challenge myself a bit with this,”[/b] Yasuo said, grinning underneath his mask, [b]“But hey, how’dja like it?”[/b] Tamiko snatched it out of his hands and immediately wrapped it around her face, her eyes sparkling. [b]“Geez, this is like...super edgy! Yasucchi, your taste sucks!”[/b] [b]“Glad it’s your jive, kiddo.”[/b] [/indent]