The chiming of the school's intercom announced an end to the day's toil, and it prompted Noriaki to snap out of his absentminded daydreaming and into a stretch. The last few hours of the school day were always hard to focus during, and the way the sky seemed to darken with rolling clouds and the low rumble of distant thunder had only further muddled his mind. He hadn't the forethought to bring an umbrella to school, having been fooled into believing the clear morning skies, so it was almost assured he was going to get soaked after leaving the building. The manager over at FamilyMart had insisted he come in the following afternoon to finalize all the bullshit paperwork required, so he was doomed even if he had wanted to sprint through the unfamiliar streets of Kyoto to beat the rain home.
He had half a mind to do it anyway—despite his purchases the day before, he hadn't gotten around to actually broaching the idea of keeping a cat around the house to his mother. He had spirited the little fluff out of the house before she got home again, confident he would be fine with the weather as sunny as it was. Now Noriaki could only hope the feline could find adequate cover until he could make it back to collect him.
Ruminating on the misfortune of the day wasn't going to get him anywhere, though. He summoned the strength to rise from his seat, haphazardly sweeping what few supplies littered his desk into his bag. He swung it over his arm, turning to the blue-haired teen behind him.
"Gonna go do job shit at FamilyMart today. Don't wait around for me." He told the closest thing to a "friend" he had made in his two days at Hinotori, figuring the clingy teen would want to do something after class regardless of the poor weather. Giving him notice was the least he could do, and even then, he couldn't say for sure that would even discourage Asakura from following him.
What was for sure was that Noriaki didn't intend to dally around for a response, and no sooner than he had said the words did his feet start him off in the direction of the door. The crowds in the halls weren't as frantic as usual—he imagined a number of the student body were either biding their time to see whether or not the rain would come, or simply wishing to wait it out on campus. Their lack of initiative was one small blessing on an otherwise shitty day. It made his job of getting to the lockers early all the easier.
Noriaki stood stoic as his would-be boss looked him over. It wasn't a very long appraisal, in truth, and that was something the teen took in stride. As the older gentleman listed off the benefits of the job, he mowed them over in his head. It didn't exactly pay much, but it was also a part time job ringing up drinks and stocking shelves, so he wasn't going to be making a fortune any time soon. The flexibility of the schedule was nice, though he didn't foresee himself doing much after school to begin with.
Especially not to a godforsaken Lawson's with the shitty chicken apologists that had been accompanying him.
"Yeah, I did," Noriaki answered nonchalantly when questioned on his recent arrival, "I just got here this week."
He briefly cast a gaze over towards Asakura, glaring at the teen who had the nerve to both imply his employment was ruse to get them away from crap food and throw away a perfectly fine sandwich in his presence. He was starting to understand why the man spent his lunch on the roof sucking on eggs alone. But his irrational irritation aside, the former athlete had more pressing matters at hand. Namely, locking down this job.
"When do you want me to start? Or is there like, paperwork I gotta fill out first?"
It was a great relief that for all her disinterest, the clerk seemed to ring the group up with a sense of expediency. It was probably just so she could go back to flicking through some trashy rag or another, but it didn't matter to Noriaki. All that mattered to him was the greasy slab of boneless meat inside the wrapping he held, and the bread with which to sandwich it. He tore through plastic and paper alike with his teeth, and hastily assembled his mid-afternoon delight before the group even had a chance to leave the store.
The payoff was heavenly, and as he bit through soft dough and crunchy chicken, he was privy to perhaps the one time he had been truly relieved since leaving home earlier that morning. The humble famichiki sandwich had been his reprieve after way too many long, arduous practices. A reward for a day of hardworking, shared with friends now lost to him, where he could sate his hunger and laugh away whatever woes the coaches and upperclassmen had caused among like minded individuals. It had been months since he could relish in the familiar comfort of its taste, and it seemed that the fellows that had accompanied him had also tucked in during his reverie.
But they did not share his bliss. Like Senators to Caesar, they drove their dissenting opinions into his brief moment of happiness until it all bled away from him like an Emperor betrayed. Gripping his precious sandwich in one hand, he placed his other on the edge of the counter, leaning towards the duo with animosity in his eyes entirely unwarranted by the critique of a simple piece of convenience store chicken.
"You're both disgraces to your uniforms." Noriaki told them as if it was plainly obvious fact, and he was its arbiter. It was all he could do not to launch into a tirade against these Lawson's apologists, and their preference for overpriced, over-breaded garbage. It was warranted, absolutely, but it was inevitable that Noriaki would become a regular at this location, and he didn't want to start a scene here. Especially not in front of the manager, who had apparently materialized while he was enjoying his brief walk down memory lane.
The presence of the older man gave him an excuse to redirect his anger to something more productive. Leaning on the counter as he was, he couldn't help but notice the help wanted sign that had just been smoothed out before him. He scanned it with icy eyes, pondering for a few seconds. He certainly could do with the money; the Hoshino family was not an especially wealthy one, and the pet store trip had burnt into what meager savings from birthdays and holidays he called his own. Usually, a part-time job would have cut into his baseball practice, but that wouldn't be a problem any longer, as bitter as that thought was to him. It would be good to have something to spend his afternoons doing. Might even impress that pin-headed parole officer.
"I'll do it," He suddenly piped, straightening up so he could look the manager in the face, "I'll take the job."
Hopefully the cashier wouldn't make good on her promise of an impromptu throat surgery.
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."
Supermaxx
Scrawl Banditta
mickilennial
Not a Sayan
Chai
Haha
Achronum
Ohm
Kuro
