Noriaki resisted the urge to bristle at Daigo's quietly muttered statement. Of all the places for people to claim he had an accent, fucking Kyoto? If he wanted to take shit for the way he talked, he would have moved to Tokyo and dealt with all those urbanites up in Kanto. An ironic thing to internally fuss over, considering his current preoccupation in crowd navigation. It seemed as though the ginger youth—for all his lack of height—managed to follow along just fine, even going as far as to introduce himself more properly.
"Hoshino Noriaki. Nice to meet you."
The teen responded succinctly as he passed the so-called Dog-a-Corn, pausing in front of the pet shop doors as his companion posed a question. In all honesty, he didn't have any further plans aside from this, and it certainly didn't seem like Asakura had anywhere impressive to show him back when they discussed plans in class. He thought on it for a second or two, before an avian display inside the store proper caught his eye and became his muse.
"You guys like chicken?"
The shopping Noriaki had to do was mercifully quick, impatient as he tended to be. A litter box and accompanying scoop, some actual liter, a food bowl, a couple of cans of some godforsaken fish concoction and a collar. He had also splurged on a couple of cat bow-ties, but he tried to keep those out of sight of his companions—he didn't need Asakura lecturing him on being up-sold on accessories. A cat deserved to be dapper and he wasn't going to let somebody who shared a hair color with blueberries scold him on that.
But thoughts of fancy cats were far from his mind as the group approached their destination: FamilyMart. It was a bit like the blind leading the sighted, the new kid dragging the natives to an eatery, but Noriaki had always liked the chicken they sold. Besides, he didn't have much to snack on back at the house anyway, so it was an investment in both his present and future hunger. The typical ring greeted the group as Noriaki forged ahead, and the clerk piped up with more forced enthusiasm than expected for someone of her posture. Not like he cared.
"Yo," He greeted out of equally expected politeness, before peering over his shoulder towards his fellow classmates, "I'm telling you guys, you buy some curry bread and smack a hunk famichiki right in the middle of it. Best chicken sandwich you're gonna get from a konbini."
He spoke with all the authority that years of being a ravenous, semi-broke student athlete could lend one in regards to cheap convenience store fare. Whether or not they believed him mattered little—he had bread to procure, and chicken to inspect. He didn't want to end up with one of the dry pieces from the front, and the counter-faced cashier certainly didn't instill him with confidence when it came to choosing a juicy one.
Noriaki scratched at his chin as the bubbly ginger pointed out the sampling of stock one could glance through the door. He supposed it was a dumb question in hindsight, what with the storefront itself not too far away, but it didn't seem to bother the redhead. He watched with mild interest as the boy—whose surname was Hinari, as Kazuyoshi had just reminded him—stood on the tips of his toes and decided to question his guide instead. It was hard to tell whether or not that was just one of the animated lad's eccentricities, or if it was to compensate for the height difference between the two. Regardless of the reasoning, his prompting seemed to drag the azure-haired youth out of his daydreaming.
Something Noriaki quickly came to curse. Why the hell was it that whenever Asakura opened his mouth, something dumb had to come out along with the rest?
"The fuck are we, in the Meiji era? It's a pet store, not a bazaar. I'll be in and out in five minutes," he interjected, although the salesmen and their nefarious ways weren't what poked at his nerve, "And I do not have an accent—Osaka is literally a twenty minute train ride south."
Content that he had defended himself and his home, Noriaki stuffed his hands into his pockets and began to trudge his way through the assembled shoppers, towards his destination and its bizarre mascot. In spite of his protests, he fully expected his overly forward guide to follow along, and with how pleased to help he seemed, Hinari would probably be on their heels as well. That might have been something of a blessing, in truth. Maybe one of them could explain what the hell no-clumping litter was and why he wouldn't want it to clump up in the first place. Wasn't that the whole point?
Name Seimei Keiko Age Eighteen Gender Female Occupation Apprentice Signkeeper
Mischievous Keiko is most defined by her impish nature. She is playful, sharp-tongued and always looking for ways to amuse herself. Her mischief never reaches the level of malicious, but she takes great joy in teasing her peers and cracking jokes at their expense. Her puckish nature has earned her few friends, but she insists it doesn't bother her, as those who can't handle a little naughtiness probably wouldn't be fun to spend time around anyway. Or so she tells herself. Impulsive In spite of her best efforts, Keiko is something of a wild child. Chock full of bravado, she is foolhardy and rash, often letting her temper and impetuousness get the better of her. Her uninhibited character often leads her to acting or speaking without thinking through the consequences, then using her quick-wit to justify her behavior after the fact and talk her way out of those consequences. Cynical For all bluster and glee she exudes, Keiko is a deeply suspicious person. She has, for as long as she can remember, been ostracized by her community in some form or another, and she has taken that distrust to heart. She jests and she ridicules as easily as she breathes, but she does not let others close enough to see her true feelings on a manner. She has a hard time trusting the intentions of others, and will almost always assume the worst of a person's actions if not given adequate evidence in short order—a dangerous combination when paired with her hot temper.
Clever While her demeanor wouldn't lead one to believe so, Keiko possesses an sharp-mind and an equally quick-wit. It makes her a fast learner and a gifted student, able to pick up new skills and tricks quicker than others her age. The acuity of her mind also allows her to come up with solutions to problems on the fly, or remember minuscule details that could be of help long after the fact. Sign Adept Possessing both talent and the privilege to learn at her mother's knee since she was small, Keiko is quite skilled with the usage of Signs. As the future Signkeeper of the valley, her repertoire is quite deep when compared to most inhabitants of the village, and she makes good use of what she knows, even going as far as to use multiple Signs in tandem to achieve more complex effects. Lightfooted As to be expected of someone with a trickster's nature, Keiko is especially light on her feet. She is swift, dexterous and most of all stealthy. She has little trouble going unnoticed on the rare occasions that she wants to be, and has a tendency of slinking off during (occasionally manufactured) distractions to avoid the duties she would rather not handle.
Physical Description
Despite the larger-than-life persona she tries to project, Keiko is in fact quite the opposite. Standing at only five feet in height, she is shorter than most girls in the valley, and fittingly lithe. Her features are soft and child-like, accentuated by her large, chestnut colored eyes that twinkle with a usually playful mirth. Framing her curiously innocent profile is an untidy mane of dark, lustrous brown hair, always sticking up this way and that, just as wild as the girl who bears it. The thick locks help highlight the relative paleness of her skin by comparison, smooth and unblemished despite the dirt beneath her fingernails or the devil-may-care manner she carries herself—an indication of her scholarly background, and one of the few she bears.
In spite of her potential for beauty, Keiko does not consider herself to be especially feminine, and does not dress as such. Her wardrobe is typically comprised of loose, comfortable kimono of a subdued color paired with the typical, tucked hakama of the village's laborers. Knee length black tabi and accompanying straw sandals clad her delicate feet, and she usually dawns a long, sleeveless haori when out and about in the village, the mon of her adoptive family painstakingly sewn into its back.
Character Conceptualization
Keiko's story is one of an outsider. Having been born beyond the idyllic peace of the village, in a hamlet that as far as anyone knows—or will never know—befell some sad fate or another, Keiko was dealt the black mark of a stranger despite having only ever known the lake and fields of Heiseina. She was but a toddler when she arrived, brought home by the village's Signkeeper one chilly fall day and taken in as a daughter in spite of their lack of relation.
In all ways, she was raised as a Seimei, a respected family of lore keepers who had for generations carefully catalogued and disseminated the Signs that kept life in Heiseina running smoothly. Yet she was never quite afforded the respect of her mother or late grandfather. In a community so small and traditional, any external entity was met with suspicion. Suspicion which colored the young girl's view of the utopia she called home from the earliest years.
It made raising an already difficult little girl all the harder. Precocious from the get-go, Keiko proved herself to be a bright, willful child. One aware enough to recognize the scorn that was leveled her way and respond in kind. She quickly developed the reputation of a troublesome little nuisance, in spite of her mother's best attempts to keep her in line while simultaneously fulfilling her own duties as Signkeeper.
Acting out was all the young Keiko could do to rebel against the injustices she felt—Heiseina was a picturesque settlement, where everybody knew everybody and everyone got along. But nobody seemed to want to get along with her. Just as they rejected her, she rejected them, and her developmental years were marked by an ever growing divide as her own actions worked to further ostracized her from her peers and their families. It wasn't until she was ten or eleven years old—when she began her Sign training—that things began to change, however slightly. Rambunctious as she was, her mother had deemed that she should begin putting her excess energy into learning the family's trade, an excellent decision in hindsight.
Inquisitive and curious, Keiko took to Signcraft like a duck to water. It occupied her keen mind, and provided her an avenue for praise in place of scolding she had become accustomed to. More importantly, it also sent a message to the community; she would be a useful contributor to the village as a whole, and would one day succeed her mother in her capacity of Signkeeper. As she grew from troublesome girl to quarrelsome young woman, Signcraft became her outlet and safe haven, something she excelled at that gave her worth, and made others acknowledge her even if they had misgivings in accepting her.
But no longer is she a girl. Now a woman grown, Keiko must contend with a fast approaching future. One of responsibility and dignity, of finding acceptance and belonging among those she had subtly railed against her entire life. If only she knew just how important finding that acceptance would be, in the trials to come.
"I hear ya, but I'm telling you now that sleep ain't gonna be changing me much by tomorrow."
Noriaki resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Asakura's statement. The bags beneath his eyes seemed to tell a much different story. But he wasn't going to push the issue—it seemed as though his usually chipper classmate had something more damning than a lack of sleep weighing on his mind, and he didn't care to go digging through other people's personal affairs. Especially not after his little run in with the council's president. Finally getting a move on was a welcome change in to the lingering quiet that had accompanied the tonal change, and the follow-up that Asakura had for him did finally earn an eye roll. The kid from Kyoto was going to tell him about urban charm?
Their journey through the streets of the city certainly made him question his companion's city slicking. He half expected the route to be so convoluted on purpose, as some kind of dumb joke to pull on the new kid. Maybe Kyoto was just old, and lacking the intuitive design of modernity in its layout. Maybe Kazu just didn't know where the hell they were going. He was poking away at his phone curiously before they set off. For the sake of politeness, Noriaki kept his thoughts to himself; hopping a few fences and ducking through an alleyway or two wasn't an issue for someone like him. If nothing else, his host kept the small talk flowing, although the lighthearted bantering took at least one turn towards the more serious.
"Experience, I guess," Noriaki answered vaguely, "Besides, she wasn't just there to greet a new student. She was there to throw something in my face. Some kinda power play. I hate that kinda backhanded shit. Pisses me the fuck off."
If his expletives didn't key off his irritation, then the venom in his voice would have. Maybe it would ward off any follow up questions. He certainly didn't want to talk about his record or the queen bitch waving it over his head anymore than he already had to. Their arrival in the shopping district proper gave him a convenient excuse to gloss over the topic regardless. It was no Tennoji, but the bustling commercial plaza seemed like it would get the job done.
"Man, do I look like I'm familiar with what the hell a dog-a-corn sells? Could be corndogs for all I know. You're the native, can't you—" His griping was cut off shortly thereafter, as they were approached by a member of the ever shifting crowd. He had half a mind to tell whatever street hawker had interrupted him off until he caught sight of just who it was; a fellow Hinotori student, based off the uniform, and one he remembered at that. It was hard to miss the kid's shock of messy ginger hair, especially when you shared a homeroom.
Even if you could miss his hair, it sure as hell seemed hard to miss his mouth. The excitable youth talked on and on, the majority of it directed at Noriaki himself. Not a surprise, of course. He had spent a sizable portion of lunch answering the questions of curious peers, some of which weren't even in his class. There was a short pause after some mention of crab, and Noriaki seized the initiative before his classmate went rambling any further.
"Uh, thanks, I guess? It's been pretty alright, so far." He didn't exactly want to be rude to someone welcoming him to the city, but he had pressing matters to attend. Matters that this particular fellow might have been able to help him with, if his knowledge of local dry cleaners was anything to go by.
"You happen to know what the hell that thing sells?" He asked, hiking a thumb over his shoulder to gesture towards the seed-shaped dog costume, "'Cause I need cat food and a litter box, as appealing as deep fried hotdogs might sound right now."
Name Seimei Keiko Age Eighteen Gender Female Occupation Apprentice Signkeeper
Mischievous Keiko is most defined by her impish nature. She is playful, sharp-tongued and always looking for ways to amuse herself. Her mischief never reaches the level of malicious, but she takes great joy in teasing her peers and cracking jokes at their expense. Her puckish nature has earned her few friends, but she insists it doesn't bother her, as those who can't handle a little naughtiness probably wouldn't be fun to spend time around anyway. Or so she tells herself. Impulsive In spite of her best efforts, Keiko is something of a wild child. Chock full of bravado, she is foolhardy and rash, often letting her temper and impetuousness get the better of her. Her uninhibited character often leads her to acting or speaking without thinking through the consequences, then using her quick-wit to justify her behavior after the fact and talk her way out of those consequences. Cynical For all bluster and glee she exudes, Keiko is a deeply suspicious person. She has, for as long as she can remember, been ostracized by her community in some form or another, and she has taken that distrust to heart. She jests and she ridicules as easily as she breathes, but she does not let others close enough to see her true feelings on a manner. She has a hard time trusting the intentions of others, and will almost always assume the worst of a person's actions if not given adequate evidence in short order—a dangerous combination when paired with her hot temper.
Clever While her demeanor wouldn't lead one to believe so, Keiko possesses an sharp-mind and an equally quick-wit. It makes her a fast learner and a gifted student, able to pick up new skills and tricks quicker than others her age. The acuity of her mind also allows her to come up with solutions to problems on the fly, or remember minuscule details that could be of help long after the fact. Sign Adept Possessing both talent and the privilege to learn at her mother's knee since she was small, Keiko is quite skilled with the usage of Signs. As the future Signkeeper of the valley, her repertoire is quite deep when compared to most inhabitants of the village, and she makes good use of what she knows, even going as far as to use multiple Signs in tandem to achieve more complex effects. Lightfooted As to be expected of someone with a trickster's nature, Keiko is especially light on her feet. She is swift, dexterous and most of all stealthy. She has little trouble going unnoticed on the rare occasions that she wants to be, and has a tendency of slinking off during (occasionally manufactured) distractions to avoid the duties she would rather not handle.
Physical Description
Despite the larger-than-life persona she tries to project, Keiko is in fact quite the opposite. Standing at only five feet in height, she is shorter than most girls in the valley, and fittingly lithe. Her features are soft and child-like, accentuated by her large, chestnut colored eyes that twinkle with a usually playful mirth. Framing her curiously innocent profile is an untidy mane of dark, lustrous brown hair, always sticking up this way and that, just as wild as the girl who bears it. The thick locks help highlight the relative paleness of her skin by comparison, smooth and unblemished despite the dirt beneath her fingernails or the devil-may-care manner she carries herself—an indication of her scholarly background, and one of the few she bears.
In spite of her potential for beauty, Keiko does not consider herself to be especially feminine, and does not dress as such. Her wardrobe is typically comprised of loose, comfortable kimono of a subdued color paired with the typical, tucked hakama of the village's laborers. Knee length black tabi and accompanying straw sandals clad her delicate feet, and she usually dawns a long, sleeveless haori when out and about in the village, the mon of her adoptive family painstakingly sewn into its back.
Character Conceptualization
Keiko's story is one of an outsider. Having been born beyond the idyllic peace of the village, in a hamlet that as far as anyone knows—or will never know—befell some sad fate or another, Keiko was dealt the black mark of a stranger despite having only ever known the lake and fields of Heiseina. She was but a toddler when she arrived, brought home by the village's Signkeeper one chilly fall day and taken in as a daughter in spite of their lack of relation.
In all ways, she was raised as a Seimei, a respected family of lore keepers who had for generations carefully catalogued and disseminated the Signs that kept life in Heiseina running smoothly. Yet she was never quite afforded the respect of her mother or late grandfather. In a community so small and traditional, any external entity was met with suspicion. Suspicion which colored the young girl's view of the utopia she called home from the earliest years.
It made raising an already difficult little girl all the harder. Precocious from the get-go, Keiko proved herself to be a bright, willful child. One aware enough to recognize the scorn that was leveled her way and respond in kind. She quickly developed the reputation of a troublesome little nuisance, in spite of her mother's best attempts to keep her in line while simultaneously fulfilling her own duties as Signkeeper.
Acting out was all the young Keiko could do to rebel against the injustices she felt—Heiseina was a picturesque settlement, where everybody knew everybody and everyone got along. But nobody seemed to want to get along with her. Just as they rejected her, she rejected them, and her developmental years were marked by an ever growing divide as her own actions worked to further ostracized her from her peers and their families. It wasn't until she was ten or eleven years old—when she began her Sign training—that things began to change, however slightly. Rambunctious as she was, her mother had deemed that she should begin putting her excess energy into learning the family's trade, an excellent decision in hindsight.
Inquisitive and curious, Keiko took to Signcraft like a duck to water. It occupied her keen mind, and provided her an avenue for praise in place of scolding she had become accustomed to. More importantly, it also sent a message to the community; she would be a useful contributor to the village as a whole, and would one day succeed her mother in her capacity of Signkeeper. As she grew from troublesome girl to quarrelsome young woman, Signcraft became her outlet and safe haven, something she excelled at that gave her worth, and made others acknowledge her even if they had misgivings in accepting her.
But no longer is she a girl. Now a woman grown, Keiko must contend with a fast approaching future. One of responsibility and dignity, of finding acceptance and belonging among those she had subtly railed against her entire life. If only she knew just how important finding that acceptance would be, in the trials to come.
For all the good Asakura's appearance did in easing tensions, it seemed his mouthy classmate didn't quite have the mettle to stand up to the president's animosity. It might have done Noriaki some good to take after his example, on account of his lack of familiarity with the school's dynamic. Maybe she was some kind of force to be reckoned with. But it was too late to back down now—he was done with bowing to the whims of haughty authority figures. The arm that had been slung over his shoulder retreated almost quickly as it had arrived, and with it so did his classmate. As he watched the indigo haired boy engage in some charade-like signaling, Noriaki decided it was probably best to head off. Seemed as though the ice queen had her own business to attend to, after coming to foul his mood even further.
"If you wanna spend time with me so badly, there's a lot of better ways to do it. Like makin' me lunch." He fired back, figuring it was the easiest way to dig under her skin, especially with how she seemed to bristle at the accusation of flirtation. The teen slung his bag over his shoulder after his quip, making his way towards the door that Asakura had just hurried through. He held a hand up in farewell, leaving a parting shot in his wake.
"Make sure to add kaarage."
Then he was gone.
It didn't take Noriaki long to make his way through the halls and downstairs, his lack of experience with the layout made up for by the haste of his exit. He didn't wanna keep his companion waiting too long, and frankly, didn't wanna spend all day locked in a staring contest with some stuck-up bitch. The bustle around the school's entrance was a little harder to wade through, especially with club members thrusting flyers here and there and the dozens gathering around the notice board for similar missives. He half expected to be headhunted for one of the sports teams, tall, athletic type that he was.
He was lucky to have escaped such a fate. It was too soon to think about that kind of thing. Better to just push it out of his mind for now. Leave the past in the past.
After exchanging his slippers for the familiar comfort of his shoes, the transfer student made his way out towards the main gates, catching sight of his tired-looking associate. It seemed as though he had paid all the attention to Noriaki's words as he did in class—very little. Still, he couldn't exactly fault the guy. His own mind had been preoccupied with less-than-pleasant events for the majority of the day.
"Already told you I need to hit up a pet store. You really ought to get more sleep, forgetting that so quickly."
There was a brief, beautiful moment where Noriaki felt relief. It had seemed the president was of a similar mind, that her time was better spent on her duties than trailing after him like a glorified keeper. But then she did that thing stuck-up girls like her tended to do—she opened her mouth again. The words that followed dispelled that brief notion of deescalation. Adjusting properly? A place to become a "proper member of society"? As if to imply he wasn't already one. She stood there, lording his past over him, and expected him to not cause trouble for anyone? There was going to be a hell of a lot of trouble for someone if she decided she could just run her mouth like that in front of him, as if some flimsy council position would intimidate him into compliance. His features hardened further, and he could feel the anger welling up in his chest as he looked at Nakano and her cool, indifferent expression.
But he stopped it before it came spilling out. New school. New start. First day. Try to have a good time. Don't make enemies. Don't give them more of a reason.
The turmoil within him managed to keep him from saying the worst of what he thought of this concerned senpai, but it didn't dull the growing animosity he felt. All it did was deaden it to a more acceptable level. He slapped his hand down on his desk, just a tad harder than he intended, and used it to lean forward. An act meant to shorten the difference in height between them, so he could lock eyes directly with her, his pale blue orbs full of equal parts willfulness and contempt.
"We'll see."
Perhaps there was some favor left on the teen's side. Before things could escalate too much further, a recognizable voice decided to interject. He barely had time to return to his full height before an arm was slung over his shoulder. It seemed like his chatty neighbor had decided to try cutting the tension with a joke. Or he was simply so dense that he didn't pick up on the hostility in the first place—it was hard to tell with Asakura.
"Kyoto girls sure got a weird way of flirtin'." He cracked in return, though with far less mirth than Asakura had bothered with.
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