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3 yrs ago
Current At the end of the day, God is everyone's bull.
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3 yrs ago
me the poopy you the pants.
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4 yrs ago
i relate.
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TOTSUKA RYUSEI


the days blend infinitely in this hellish abyss
time no longer has meaning as we lose ourselves to the darkness



Ryusei probably should have expected the sharp pain that came to radiate through his ribs. But the few seconds of zero response from Shiori had lulled him into a false sense of security, and her inevitable retribution prefaced the soft 'oof' that forced its way through his otherwise infallible deadpan. He withdrew the offending arm, using it to rub at the spot she had hit him. He knew she was skinny, but just how bony were her fucking elbows?

"It was worth a try," He muttered in response as she stole all his fun by explaining away his presence. He supposed he'd have time to torture the poor fucker with implications later. Nothing threatened a pining loser like a college boyfriend from out of town. He didn't have much time to add on to his charade if he tried—Shiori was already shoving him out onto the street, and Sato had already beat a pathetic retreat deeper into the alleyway. Unwilling to risk dropping his precious sandwich, the teen simply trotted along until they were once again back on the main road, absentmindedly nibbling at his afternoon meal.

"You really ought to watch where you go sticking that thing. Might count as a weapon in some jurisdictions. Sure as shit pointy enough to be one."
TOTSUKA RYUSEI


a date where smartphones exist
half past morbin' time



"The hell is wrong with Bats?" Ryusei asked, almost baffled that someone would complain about his brand. Maybe she proved the stereotype right and really did want menthols. "Don't worry about the sandwich. Somebody has been monopolizing much lunch time, so I was hungry. Consider your favor repaid."

While Shiori's tough girl image crumbled before him and he savored his afternoon snack, the arrival of a third caught his obvious attention. The guy seemed friendly enough—until his eyes landed on Ryusei. Typical. He wasn't exactly a beam of shining fucking sunlight, but why was it that all he got were glares and suspicious glances no matter where he went? Not even transferring a new town was enough to free him of the eternal chagrin of Japan's population, it seemed. He hadn't even said two words to the guy when they briefly passed each other in the store and he was already getting looked at like he stole something.

It wasn't until the fellow spoke for a second time that the teen's pondering suddenly clicked. So that was it, huh? No wonder this Sato seemed so upset with him. He could certainly understand the worry. Unfortunately for him, however, understanding did not equate to sympathizing, and Ryusei was in just foul enough of a mood to take a jab at the guy's expense. His companion almost assuredly wouldn't appreciate it, but hey, it was her idea to drag him along. She'd have to accept the consequences of her actions. Meandering over to Shiori from his position nearer the alleyway's exit, he slung a casual arm around the redhead's shoulders.

"Hey," He greeted the older male, swallowing the mouthful of crispy fried bird and bun that had occupied his mouth prior, "I'm the snack."
TOTSUKA RYUSEI


a date where smartphones exist
half past morbin' time



The walk through town was more depressing than Ryusei had expected it to be—he knew it wasn't going to be anything like downtown Kobe, but even the main streets seemed dead as dirt. Shiori seemed to have given it her best shot, pointing out a few things here or there when she wasn't busy brooding, but he could tell she was at a loss for items of interest. It wasn't like he could blame her though. He had come to Utsubyo expecting nothing and it had still managed to disappoint him almost every step of the way. Their arrival at the FamilyMart was welcome, if only because it gave him a sense of familiarity despite its rundown exterior. The alleyways beside a conbini were no strange frontier to the teen either, so he readily followed his redheaded companion when she ducked off.

"You're that desperate to get my clothes off, huh?" He cracked, hands already busying themselves with his tie. He pulled it free and tossed it to Himawari, his jacket following shortly thereafter. As flattering as Shiori's implication that he could look a businessman was, he had little interest in playing pretend. The teen wasted little time popping the first few buttons of his shirt—just to mess with her a little—and rolling up his sleeves so they rested around his elbows. Figuring he looked casual enough, he proceeded to snag the offered bills.

"I'll be back." He muttered as he stepped back out into the open, figuring it best he hurry along and get the cigarettes before his luck ran dry and she started making good on those threats of hers.

____________________________


It didn't take him long to return. The interior of the store had been about as dead as the exterior, with only a few errant youths stopping by after class to stock up on drinks and snacks. For his part, Ryusei wasn't especially nervous. He had bought cigarettes and worse plenty of times back home, supplying his delinquent friends with all they could need with his admittedly generous allowance. The key was to just be confident, to not act like a fucking spazz, and if all else failed, look mean enough that you weren't worth the risk to question. If the cashier had any misgivings about the cigarettes when he rung them up, he didn't voice them—the teen's perpetual scowl had undoubtedly informed the man that he was not inviting idle chitchat, nor a rejection of his purchase.

With a couple packs held between the digits of one hand, and a wrapped sandwich in the other, the teen returned to the alleyway. He tossed the former towards his partner in crime, and began unwrapping the latter.

"Hope you didn't want menthols. They were out," He declared before taking the first of many bites. "Not that I mind. Menthols taste like shit."
TOTSUKA RYUSEI


a date where smartphones exist
half past morbin' time



Ryusei simply stared at the redhead for a few good moments. The hell did she mean, resupply? It was only when she insisted that she would share with him during school hours that he caught on to what she was getting at. Why the hell would he go and buy her smokes if he could get away with buying them for himself? It made more sense for him to just buy them for himself and make her beg for the privilege. Of course, then he would need to find a place to stash them—his grandfather had a nose like a bloodhound, and he'd taken to immediately showering once he got home to wash the stink of smoke off before the old coot caught on to his little lunch breaks. Using Shiori to hold the pack was probably for the best, especially with how badly she seemed to need her daily fix.

But he couldn't just let her win unopposed. He quirked a single brow at the mention of her doing something in return for him.

"Another favor, huh? Might not be a bad idea. How wide can you get your jaw again?" He asked, rising up from his seat as if to better inspect her lips, "... Eh, we'll cross that bridge when we get there. C'mon, show me where this store is. You're also paying for 'em."

With that, he slung his bag over his shoulder and made for the door, content she would be flustered with the implication. If she wasn't, well, that was good in its own way too.
TOTSUKA RYUSEI


a date where smartphones exist
half past morbin' time



The bell brought to a close yet another shitty day, and perhaps for the first time that week he was truly happy to hear it. The boxing club's beloved senpai had better things to do that day than coach his underclassmen, and their overseer was apparently too incompetent to do his job without one of the students doing all the heavy lifting, so he was free from the incessant monotony of throwing the same punch four hundred fucking times a day. It was for the best—he was honestly getting pretty sore. Not from the practices themselves, of course. For all the shit he gave the club, they took it relatively easy for the first week to ease the new arrivals in. It was the after school workouts he had to do afterwards that were really kicking his ass. Whether the old man had devised it as a form of punishment after finding out the real reason he joined up with the club, or his grandfather actually was thrilled by the idea of his grandson being a world champ was beyond him, but if he had to spend one more evening running the hills of Utsubyo...

"Yo,"

His irate monologue was brought to a halt by the arrival of an increasingly familiar young woman. After the debacle with the newspaper, most of his peers had given him a wide enough berth that he didn't have to worry about fending them off himself. Most of them. But Himawari Shiori was probably the classmate he had spoken with the most since school began that prior Monday. Not for nothing—he had dragged her down with him. It seemed she had something to request of him, as well. That much tracked. Why else would anyone spend time with him? Still, humoring her was probably better than wandering home this early. Knowing his luck, he'd be lugging around bags of topsoil for some 'impromptu weight training'. As if he didn't know the old bastard didn't just want the back garden redone.

"The fuck could you need from me? Some skate boarder giving you trouble or something?"
i really just wanted the 100th post ignore this
TOTSUKA RYUSEI


a date where smartphones exist
half past morbin' time



The last chime of the day was usually a welcome sound. It meant that classes were finally over and everybody could scurry off to their club activities, or—for the hoodlums like Ryusei—go wander the town until nightfall. It was unfortunate that the towering teen would have to fall into the former category this year. As he stewed for most of the day, he found himself growing increasingly irate with the idea. It had been so absurd as to almost be funny at the time, but having to deal with a group of people he didn't know, nor want to know, every day after school, for who knew how many hours... Somehow Utsubyo managed to keep getting worse with every passing day. At least he had roped Himawari into it; if nothing else, she proved to be fun to tease, and he could take some solace in knowing he wasn't the only one who definitely did not want to be there.

Somewhere along the path between 2-C and the gymnasium, he met up with her. She seemed in a mood, and frankly, so was he, so he simply contented himself to silence until they arrived. Mercifully, the journey was not long, and their destination was everything the transfer could have imagined it to be—beat to shit and full of equipment that probably hadn't been replaced in the last decade. There weren't many folks milling about either, although he took that as more of a boon than a bane. It meant he had fewer people to talk to and consequently, fewer people to bother him. He simply grunted when their history teacher approached him and gave the typical spiel. Bastard was probably just happy to have another member to pad out his club with. Maybe they'd get more funding that way.

Of course, it couldn't just be the sensei to crowd him. The senpai of the group didn't seem especially notable, although his calm demeanor certainly stood out compared to his juniors. One of them decided to mouth off about his height, as if he didn't fucking know he was a foot taller than half the damn school, and the other one looked at him with a mixture of terror and apparent embarrassment at her own fear.

"Totsuka Ryusei," He eventually grunted, although his eyes eventually fell on Kei, "And I'm already in shape, in case you were blind."

It took a fair amount of restraint to not add 'as well as dumb' to his little quip, but that was probably for the best. The teacher was still around, as evidence by his request that Ryusei go change. Grumbling to himself, the teen took the excuse to get the hell away from his fellow club members before they did anything else to piss him off, and disappeared into the nearby locker room. He did not return until he had shed the stuffy school uniform provided to him and replaced it with the equally irritating gym clothing they had given him.

"Alright, I'm ready. What the hell are we doing? I don't wanna be here all day."
TOTSUKA RYUSEI


a date where smartphones exist
i don't fucking know pm



"Does it matter that much? They still chose to plaster us all over the front page—all of them are guilty on some level."

Maybe it was a little overzealous to condemn the entire club for the actions of a single member. But they all sat idly by and let it happen. Hell, the majority of them probably relished in it—they were all wannabe journalists, living in some backwater podunk town nobody cared about. This was probably the most exciting thing to happen in recent memory, maybe the only exciting thing to happen in recent memory. Like vultures to a fresh kill, they couldn't help themselves. The more he thought about it, the less the idea of beating the entire clubroom senseless seemed out of line. There had to be consequences for this, or he would have to deal with them trailing him for the rest of the school year, hoping desperately for him to do something that would sell their stupid little rag.

"Whatever you decide to do, take me with you when you go. I wanna exchange some words with their editor." He eventually decided, tucking his hands into his pockets, "We still got like fifteen minutes. Wanna have a quick smoke? Could use one after all this bullshit."
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