Don Valence
Virtuous Madman
Katsumi slowed down her approach when she finally started to notice more particular details about the group before her, eventually slowing to a complete stop a couple meters away. Prepared to be on the defensive any time, she swiftly analyzed these people with a cautious gaze. Katsumi was out-numbered severely, but it seemed that most of these strange teenagers were absorbed in their own problems. Only a few appeared to notice her, one of which was a peculiarly white-haired, pale-skinned girl with a creepy grin that remained constant on her face. The girl was rather pretty, but the grin and those slit-like eyes ruined it for Katsumi . . . not to mention the bird sounds the girl was making and the bizarre robes she wore. If these people were Yakuza, they could be highly dangerous, but . . . were they not too young? She knew that the Yakuza recruited teenagers from time to time, but why these people?
Katsumi found her answer when her eyes fell on the young men, many of them bearing vicious scars on their bodies and having the poise of seasoned fighters. She began to doubt her chances in handling this situation, and that doubt began to transform itself into fear . . . and anger. That anger only raised when she saw the half-naked, helpless girls in the back whom she could only assume were recent 'acquisitions' of this particular gang. Balling her hands into fists, she was prepared to spring into action . . . but then she could hear the police sirens ringing a couple blocks away. Maybe she could run, and get help for Yojiro and the poor girls, but she had made herself known to these damned criminals. The best Katsumi could hope for was to defend herself until the police arrived.
Her attention was taken to Yojiro's costume cart when she heard him cry out. Feeling her heart leap inside her chest, Katsumi sprinted to the other side of the cart and saw her friend being suppressed by one of the Yakuza fiends, who was shouting out what sounded like complete gibberish to Katsumi. Before she could react to her childhood friend's defense, Katsumi saw the multi-colored police lights appear down the alley, with the car braking right outside it. From the vehicle came renowned crime fighters Kansaki Chiyoko and Setsu Yuudai, who rushed over to the scene with their guns still holstered; Katsumi knew they were good, but she never knew that they were so stupid. Running into a situation in which they were out-numbered at least three-to-one, and not even drawing their pistols? Men! Why could they not think for themselves?!
It was at that moment that one of the detectives barreled into the teen that had gotten a hold of Yojiro and began wrestling with the delinquent on the concrete. Still stunned from the situation, Katsumi's mind barely registered the sensation of her wrist being grabbed and her being dragged away. Turning her head to see Yojiro grabbing her, she let herself be hauled away - although she did protest a little - when it came to them running away from a fight. Oh, Katsumi knew that they would only get in the way . . . but she did not want Yojiro to view her as a coward. They kept going until they were a good distance away down one of the main streets, at which point Yojiro turned to her with anime-esque tears on the brim of his eyes, which only made Katsumi recall what the detective had said to Yojiro . . . girl-like boy. It made her smile, which her friend must have taken as a show of concern or comfort, for he began to pour out the contents of his mind. When he tried to hug her, she shied away a bit; not because of the dust and grime on his body, but simply because she was not a "hugger".
However, Yojiro's concern for her - while minimal - was touching. "You need to be more careful, Yoji-kun; what were you thinking, going down an alley like that? Never mind, you never think in the first place . . . and also, yeah, there's a certain job you were supposed to do with me today. If you had waited for me like I told you to, you'd never have had to deal with those nutjobs in the alley! Ugh . . . anyway, I can make my way home just fine. Although I think you owe me a dinner for my trouble." From the smile on Katsumi's lips, it was obvious that she would enjoy herself when draining her friend's house of food.
An hour later, Katsumi was sitting down quietly on the porch outside of Yojiro's house, her legs crossed and showing off her smooth, slightly-tanned legs without a care in the world. She had already called her parents to let them know she would be home late; they were still worried - mostly due to the rise of crime lately - but she could do nothing about that . . . she was hungry, after all. The aroma of freshly-cooked ramen, rice and other goodies leaked out of the house, which caused her stomach to grumble loudly in anticipation. Despite all of Yojiro's awkward moments and bad tendencies, he was a great cook, and his ramen was simply orgasmic. With her hunger nagging at her, it was not long before Katsumi went inside to enjoy the feast Yojiro had prepared. Walking into the kitchen, Katsumi could see her friend making the final preparations ad she crossed her arms; she could almost promise that he had forgotten she was here. No matter . . . he was going to feed her, one way or the other.
"Mmm~ that smells great, Yoji-kun! You have a way with spices." Katsumi announced with a playful tone as she knelt down on one of the cushions at the dining table and waited patiently for Yojiro to serve her. It was at that moment that Katsumi recalled a peculiar detail about the encounter in the alley. "Um...Yoji-kun, do you think those people in the alley were really Yakuza? I mean, none of them really looked Japanese, or even Asian . . . they appeared more European, or American. But they didn't sound like any American I've ever met. Maybe they're German? It would explain their weird hair colors . . . I heard Germans like that sort of thing more than we do." If those people were foreigners, then maybe they were not doing what she thought they had been doing. They could have simply been lost - and incredibly confused - tourists. Well, Katsumi was sure that the great Kansaki Chiyoko would be able to handle that; it was not her problem anymore, and neither was it Yojiro's. She still wanted to know what he thought about it, though.
((OOC: Sorry for the delay, guys; I had the worst case of writer's block ever . . . but its posted now
))
Katsumi found her answer when her eyes fell on the young men, many of them bearing vicious scars on their bodies and having the poise of seasoned fighters. She began to doubt her chances in handling this situation, and that doubt began to transform itself into fear . . . and anger. That anger only raised when she saw the half-naked, helpless girls in the back whom she could only assume were recent 'acquisitions' of this particular gang. Balling her hands into fists, she was prepared to spring into action . . . but then she could hear the police sirens ringing a couple blocks away. Maybe she could run, and get help for Yojiro and the poor girls, but she had made herself known to these damned criminals. The best Katsumi could hope for was to defend herself until the police arrived.
Her attention was taken to Yojiro's costume cart when she heard him cry out. Feeling her heart leap inside her chest, Katsumi sprinted to the other side of the cart and saw her friend being suppressed by one of the Yakuza fiends, who was shouting out what sounded like complete gibberish to Katsumi. Before she could react to her childhood friend's defense, Katsumi saw the multi-colored police lights appear down the alley, with the car braking right outside it. From the vehicle came renowned crime fighters Kansaki Chiyoko and Setsu Yuudai, who rushed over to the scene with their guns still holstered; Katsumi knew they were good, but she never knew that they were so stupid. Running into a situation in which they were out-numbered at least three-to-one, and not even drawing their pistols? Men! Why could they not think for themselves?!
It was at that moment that one of the detectives barreled into the teen that had gotten a hold of Yojiro and began wrestling with the delinquent on the concrete. Still stunned from the situation, Katsumi's mind barely registered the sensation of her wrist being grabbed and her being dragged away. Turning her head to see Yojiro grabbing her, she let herself be hauled away - although she did protest a little - when it came to them running away from a fight. Oh, Katsumi knew that they would only get in the way . . . but she did not want Yojiro to view her as a coward. They kept going until they were a good distance away down one of the main streets, at which point Yojiro turned to her with anime-esque tears on the brim of his eyes, which only made Katsumi recall what the detective had said to Yojiro . . . girl-like boy. It made her smile, which her friend must have taken as a show of concern or comfort, for he began to pour out the contents of his mind. When he tried to hug her, she shied away a bit; not because of the dust and grime on his body, but simply because she was not a "hugger".
However, Yojiro's concern for her - while minimal - was touching. "You need to be more careful, Yoji-kun; what were you thinking, going down an alley like that? Never mind, you never think in the first place . . . and also, yeah, there's a certain job you were supposed to do with me today. If you had waited for me like I told you to, you'd never have had to deal with those nutjobs in the alley! Ugh . . . anyway, I can make my way home just fine. Although I think you owe me a dinner for my trouble." From the smile on Katsumi's lips, it was obvious that she would enjoy herself when draining her friend's house of food.
An hour later, Katsumi was sitting down quietly on the porch outside of Yojiro's house, her legs crossed and showing off her smooth, slightly-tanned legs without a care in the world. She had already called her parents to let them know she would be home late; they were still worried - mostly due to the rise of crime lately - but she could do nothing about that . . . she was hungry, after all. The aroma of freshly-cooked ramen, rice and other goodies leaked out of the house, which caused her stomach to grumble loudly in anticipation. Despite all of Yojiro's awkward moments and bad tendencies, he was a great cook, and his ramen was simply orgasmic. With her hunger nagging at her, it was not long before Katsumi went inside to enjoy the feast Yojiro had prepared. Walking into the kitchen, Katsumi could see her friend making the final preparations ad she crossed her arms; she could almost promise that he had forgotten she was here. No matter . . . he was going to feed her, one way or the other.
"Mmm~ that smells great, Yoji-kun! You have a way with spices." Katsumi announced with a playful tone as she knelt down on one of the cushions at the dining table and waited patiently for Yojiro to serve her. It was at that moment that Katsumi recalled a peculiar detail about the encounter in the alley. "Um...Yoji-kun, do you think those people in the alley were really Yakuza? I mean, none of them really looked Japanese, or even Asian . . . they appeared more European, or American. But they didn't sound like any American I've ever met. Maybe they're German? It would explain their weird hair colors . . . I heard Germans like that sort of thing more than we do." If those people were foreigners, then maybe they were not doing what she thought they had been doing. They could have simply been lost - and incredibly confused - tourists. Well, Katsumi was sure that the great Kansaki Chiyoko would be able to handle that; it was not her problem anymore, and neither was it Yojiro's. She still wanted to know what he thought about it, though.
((OOC: Sorry for the delay, guys; I had the worst case of writer's block ever . . . but its posted now
))
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