Radio. Skate. Tag. (IC)

[Andour Seibym]

As the sun beams down on Japan, Kenjio listlessly paces down the street, music blasting from his headphones. the boy looks up from the sidewalk to find himself on Dogenzaka Hill, the streets of Shibuya Crossing brimming to the road's beginning with people. The boy shifts and darts through crows, mumbling apologies to each person he bumps into as he makes his way to the mall located somewhere within the province.

Kenjio had just left his home, and was going to meet up with a classmate of his. being the antsy perfectionist he was known to be, he chose a Saturday to ditch his old life. how pathetic of him, no?

Reaching the mall, the boy skated through, and dashed into the large music store located in the center of the mall, jumping behind the counter almost instantaneously to hitting the carpet that was laid within the store. landing behind his manager(who had jumped at his sudden arrival), he was greeted with an employee apron being tossed at him, and some stern words from the man he called his manager; he worked in that music store, and had told his friend that where he would meet him.

"Hey, Ayane, did Nolte get here yet?" He asked the girl, rolling to the cash register next to her. "no, he didn't come to the shop yet." she responded, looking at Kenjio. "you know, thats a cute hoodie. I like..." she began, before Kenjio started pretending to do work. "No, you cant." he sighed out, making Ayane snap in defeat. "I'll find out where you bought that one day, dude!" she threatened, Kenjio ignoring her as he started to service one of the customers on the other side of the counter.

 

[Misanthropiclove]

Tracy had barely noticed the scuffle between the two workers. She had learned to ignore a lot of things, from being thought of as a tourist to the looks she got for being five feet nine inches tall and layered in tattoos. There were always those who just loved to stare at her or even asked her for pictures in broken English, or even good English, before she responded with Japanese. It was adorable in ways. But that was not why she was here. It was to gather ammunition for her gang.

She sat in front of a lovely girl who worked as a hostess in a club. The woman was barely twenty two and exceedingly popular, popular enough that she was often procured by upper class businessmen. Which is exactly what Tracy wished to know about.

"Come on, Mei sweety, you have to know something about Wataru. He visits you at least three times a week for hours a time. You cannot say you are silent for all of that time," Tracy said while running her leg up the leg of the girl in front of her, giving her a surprisingly charming grin, "He won't ever know it's you, I promise."

The hostess girl blushed and shook her head, "It's not that, Ms. Kevins, it's just that he never talks about anything very...usable. His mother used to tie him to a tree in their backyard when she wanted to punish him, and he often just cries and says 'torture tree' over and over. Creepy and pitiable, but not usable in the same way as Mr. Hotaru's love of bilking the elderly out of their money was."

Tracy sighed. Well, Mei was correct. The fact he was abused as a child wouldn't even be embarrassing. It would make people feel more pity and sadness for him than anything. "Thank you, Mei dear. Well, if he does ever slip up, please let me know."

"Of course, Ms. Kevins."

Tracy watched Mei leave, her eyes planted firmly on that shapely buttocks attached to that lovely girl. She might have to actually visit that hostess club one day, if only to shock the more proper attendants. But, as it was, she had no new information and an entire backpack full of spray paint that had no target in mind. The day was not exactly looking up.