Real Folk Blues

CHARLIE HAD AGREED TO GO to karaoke on the condition that someone bought an appetizer for her. She had no real interest in actually singing-- but food was always welcomed. A plate of gyoza and some cajoling later, the prawn lilted her way through a Frank Sinatra song. As the afternoon wore-on, and the hour grew later, talk shifted to possible, actual lunch. The group decided to go separate directions, unable to to come to a consensus.

Charlie had been keeping close to the group, or so she had thought, but then something attracted her attention-- a rather attractive, retro computer in the window of a pawn shop. Oh man, she could totally salvage that for parts-- that thing had to be ancient.

The prawn had spent so long lingering at the window of the shop that when she lifted her gaze to find her group, they were long-gone.

Shit.

Charlotte broke into a light jog, her eyes sweeping the area for a familiar head of hair or the flash of a friend's jacket. Nada.

Shit.

Well at this rate she might as well walk to the train station, and grab lunch along the way-- this didn't strike Charlie as the kind of place to just hang-out alone.

In her circuitous route towards that station, the prawn found a deli and purchased a sandwich and some sides.

She did not, however, find the station.

A hesitant hand rummaged through the messenger bag in search of her phone.

Nothing. She'd left it on the charger.

"Fuck," the prawn swore beneath her breath. She adjusted her messenger bag, huffed in annoyance, and continued her walk. She couldn't very well find a station standing still.

God knew how long she'd walked. The sky was turning dark with clouds, the wind was kicking-up. Charlie had every intention of eating her sandwich on the train, but with her finding the station seeming less and less likely... her stomach growled. The prawn rubbed her face.

On the air were the ponderous notes of a guitar, perhaps just around the corner, or down an adjacent street.

"Oi," someone spoke. The prawn lifted her gaze. Two men stood before her.

"Whatchu got in the bag?"

Cheeky bastard, giving a mutant trouble. His hair was something eccentric and only achievable by gel-- what he lacked in eyebrows, he made up for in piercings. His friend, one in the same, but a hundred pounds heavier.

"A sandwich?"

"Your messenger bag, dipshit."

"Nothing."

His hand was deft, he pulled-out a switchblade from the folds of his jacket.

"Open the fucking bag. Quietly."

A muscle in the prawn's jaw leapt.

You weren't supposed to fight. Not unless your life was in-danger.

Did this count?

Someone was holding a knife to a mutant in a shell which, admittedly, wasn't the most effective... but a knife was typically considered deadly.

"Leave me alone!" the prawn yelled, hoping to drag the attention of any passerby's and flagrantly disregarding the command.

The guy lunged at her, or perhaps her bag, and the prawn gave a frightened shout.

"Help! He has a knife!" the prawn yelled again.

@arsene

520 words

ooc notes:

CHARLOTTE HAD HER BACK PRESSED TO THE WALL, weighing her options. Any reasonable person would’ve been frightened—she should’ve been frightened. But after all the shit she’d gone through in Japan, she stopped being surprised. Tokyo, and all of its neighborhoods, were just like any other urban place—riddled with crime and dangerous to mutants.

“Help!” she shouted again, eyes raking for a passerby to call-out. It’d be harder to ignore her if she targeted someone specific for assistance. A figure across the street seemed to hear Charlotte’s plea, but the prawn was so tunnel-visioned on the knife that she didn’t see the guy at first. It wasn’t until the big guy pitched forward from the force of the blow, and the prawn stumbled aside, that she realized someone had heard her call and answered it.

“Hey, what the fuck?!” the smaller guy barked, turning to face the interloper.

“Hey asshole, you aren’t done with me!” the prawn snapped, bringing her foot down upon the arch of the man’s foot with all of her weight. The guy’s stream of obscenities broke-off into a yelp. He swung his knife at Charlie, but the teen danced out of his reach.

“Fuckin’ animal!” the man spat.

“Look who’s talking,” Charlotte snapped, stepping into the quiet street, backing towards the interloper. There was something familiar about the outstretched arm, which spanned the street like an unspooled rope. Charlie wanted to look back, but the little guy (still wielding the knife) limped after Charlie, clearly still intent on doing her harm. The prawn continued walking backwards, backing towards the interloper.

“Onoda! Move your ass!” he shouted to the big guy. The big guy, still reeling from the blow, shook his head and began to follow.

“Get a hobby!” the prawn implored, quickening her pace. She crossed the street in-reverse, nearly stumbling over the curb, before hazarding a glance at her rescuer.

A smile touched her features, despite the gravity of the situation. She heaved a sigh through her surgical mask.

“Kaito..." Charlie couldn't help the relief that had crept into her tone. A fellow U.A. student, "How is it… that I’m always in trouble… whenever we cross paths?”

She said his name as if she were fishing it out of a pond. Where had he been, anyways? She hadn't seen him in ages.

“No need to be like that!” the big guy tried to cajole the pair, extending a hand palm upward “We’re just looking for some cash.”

The prawn stood facing Kaito, her fists clenched, arms trembling.

“They tried to rob me,” she muttered tersely, "Let's get outta here, yeah?"

@arsene

436 words

ooc notes: feel free to control the goons, curve. :3

HER HEAD WAS REELING-- it didn't feel real, any of it-- the thugs, Kaito, his hand thoughtlessly tugging at hers. The whole thing left Charlotte dumb and complacent. In any other context she might have retracted her hand with a terse "Sure", but... her hold tightened slightly.

"Okay."

The prawn let herself be led, watching the boy before her rather than the streets around them, relieved and perhaps confused. Where had he been, all this time? It'd been months since they'd met, and in the between times she hadn't seen him once on campus. And now here he was, like some avenging angel, swooping in to punish the wicked and save the innocent. Charlotte almost stumbled into Kaito when he came to a halt, and she steadied herself, her breathing ragged.

Kaito recoiled, wrenching his hand free, and the prawn followed him with her eyes.

For as rough around the edges as Kaito might seem, he still had Japanese sensibilities, Charlie supposed-- which extended to being embarrassed about holding hands with girls in public. How unusual, that he extended that courtesy to Charlie, though. Most people seemed to forget she was a girl to begin with.

For a moment, her hand lingered where it'd been released-- and then it fell to her side. The corners of her eyes pinched with a smile. She shook her head, "No worries. I appreciate it. I'd probably... find a way to get lost without you leading me."

She chuckled modestly and glanced away, rubbing the back of her neck. Neither of them was a stranger to Charlie's terrible sense of direction.

Overhead, the gathering dark clouds began to open-up-- a drip at first, then two, then more... Charlotte shook her head. She was only in a hoodie, tanktop and cargo shorts, by no means dressed for the inclimate weather. And besides which, Kaito was toting a guitar. Charlotte pinched his sleeve and pulled him under an awning while they gathered there wherewithal.

"I was looking for the train station," Charlie explained, "But, uh... maybe we should look for somewhere to stay dry instead."

Dry and warm. Besides this awning over a backdoor, however intimate that might be.

"Know of any places?" the prawn asked, smiling from behind her surgical mask. It'd give them the chance to catch-up, they could lie low and make sure the goons that'd try to rough Charlie up hadn't followed them. Charlotte still wasn't entirely sure if Kaito was even really there or not to begin with.

@arsene

417 words

ooc notes:

THE BOY GAVE A DISTRACTED "yeah", and the prawn waited, half-expecting Kaito to take her hand once again. Instead he seemed to search the air for answers. Charlotte followed his gaze. And when he finally procured an honest reply, Charlie arched a brow ridge. Don't judge him?

"No problem," the prawn agreed. Don't judge him? Was he thinking of a maid cafe? Internet cafe? Something nerdy like that? She didn't take him for a nerdy guy. Kaito subconsciously extended his hand, and then prayerfully hoped that the prawn did not notice. Unfortunately for him, the prawn was watching him closely-- so when he held his hand out, Charlotte unwittingly took it. Shit, he'd held her hand when he'd led her to the alley. Why not hold hands to their next destination? Especially if Charlie was so prone to getting lost...

"Lead the way," Charlie chimed. Kaito's lower arm contorted and spread, sheltering them both. The prawn watched and then smiled to herself, saying nothing about the gesture. They continued down the narrow seams between buildings, until the prawn was even more profoundly lost than before. The seeming abandonment of the alleys and the boy's timid request were making the prawn suspicious-- where the fuck were they going?

Finally, they came to a dead-end with garbage cobbled into a shack, and the prawn absentmindly released his hand again. This is the place? When Kaito pushed the sheet metal aside and stepped-in, the prawn lingered a moment before ducking-in behind him, her lavender eyes roving uncertainly.

Don't judge me, alright?

What was this place?

Charlotte's lavender gaze traced the pieces of furniture, her slitted pupils widening and bringing the room into sharp focus as Kaito spoke. The prawn's poker face was enviable, which came with the territory of having a buggy face. This was his home?

"That explains why I haven't seen you," the prawn remarked, smiling faintly. She padded towards the couch, and sat on its arm. Charlotte had assessed the shack, realized that besides Kaito it was unoccupied, and decided that it was safe to get settled.

Her lavender eyes meandered their way back to Kaito. She wouldn't waste time with making disingenuous compliments. Or beating around the questions that begged to be answered. She would cut to the quick.

"How long have you been living here?" Charlie asked. In other words, how long had she not noticed that he was gone?

Her question was conversational and polite-- with the same level of detachment with which one might ask, "Hey did you watch the game last night?" or "Do you want to go to the mall?"

The rain had risen to a steady pace, sounding like a roar against the plastic sheeting. It did little to protect against the wind, but at least they were dry. A chill skittered up Charlie's spine, and she braced herself against the sensation by hugging herself, rubbing her arms.

"What happened to U.A.?"

Kaito didn't have family he could stay with? Friends? Or was this a choice? she wasn't judging Kaito's living situation, but... any reasonable person would be concerned...

@arsene

516 words

ooc notes:

CHARLOTTE LISTENED IMPASSIVELY AS KAITO explained where their paths had diverged. Kaito spoke distractedly as he tended the fire, found his way back the couch, fumbling with his response. Charlotte slid off the arm of the couch and onto the cushion, so that she was level with Kaito. The couch was cool and damp, the way that only an outdoor couch could be. She tried to ignore the sensation as Kaito spoke.

While Charlotte could understand the desire to not burden one's parent (or parents), the sequence of events was lost on her. He left school because he didn't fit-in... and now was effectively homeless?

"Being out here is better than feeling different?" Charlotte mumbled, clearly skeptical. Even if he didn't feel like he fit-in, U.A. still meant having a roof over one's head and warm food from the cafeteria.

She traced the spines of her arm idly, frowning slightly.

"I've been fine," the prawn replied, reluctant to discuss her own experiences, in the interest of prying more into Kaito's goings-on, "I had a job as a busser, briefly. Parents made me quit when I failed midterms. Been doing cram school, got a roommate... guess it's alright."

She avoided the topic of Theo, her most recent trist, altogether. Charlotte wasn't sure why in the moment, though. As soon as Charlotte felt that she'd sufficiently answered Kaito's question, it was straight back to discussing her friend's living situation.

"What do you do for food?" Charlie pried, "How often do you eat?"

Her questions were certainly intrusive, but it all came from a good place. The prawn was concerned. She was also devising logistics for bringing her friend any supplies he might need. Her unflinching lavender eyes flicked over Kaito's body, searching for any sign of undernourishment-- a hollowed cheekbone or jutting ribs. As if the revelation that Kaito had been living in an alleyway would suddenly unearth a myriad of health issues not previously visible to the naked eye.

@arsene

328 words

ooc notes:

THE PRAWN'S SKEPTICISM PERSISTED as Kaito gestured as his stores of food, enough canned food to fill his former school bag, and he insisted that by busking he could earn enough to feed himself. If he couldn't... he could steal.

Charlotte fixed Kaito with a look, as if he were an onion and she were trying to peel him with her eyes. Was this really okay for him? Living in a shack, busking for food, stealing when the means didn't satisfy the ends? As he backpedaled, insisting that he didn't steal money-- he just took what he needed to survive-- something twinged in Charlotte's chest. What was it? And as Kaito unwove how different he was, and why he was different, Charlotte realized what he meant by "different". Not a hero. Not a government-sanctioned child-soldier. How could she have thought Kaito meant "different" in the typical teenaged sense? Her expression softened.

"I knew there was a reason why I liked you better than the others," she remarked distractedly. The words left her before she could pull them back in. The rain had risen to a steady pour outside, and here-and-there it was dripping through the tarp. Charlie could feel the warmth of the fire, but barely. She tried to stop shivering.

"Sorry," she said, reflexively, "I didn't, uh... mean that in a weird way."

Now it was her turn to backpedal.

"I'm not so good, either, is what I meant," Charlotte assured him, a laugh fringing her tone, "Before my current family adopted me, I lived with a gangster. Ran drugs, stole, whatever was necessary for our survival. And sometimes more, too. It's different... but also... I get it?"

She leaned back into the couch, sighing. Charlie wasn't sure what her point was. That she wouldn't rat Kaito out? That you could still be a hero and not be a paragon of morality? She had nothing to offer in regards to his "little soldier" comment, though. She'd always been driven wild by the combativeness of heroes studies kids, but had never been able to... put her frustrations so succinctly, and in such a way that really cut to the heart of the issue.

"You've thought about this a lot," she said with another sigh, "I wish we were just allowed to exist. You know? Not as weapons or problems. Just. There?"

It was a very mutant thing to say. Hiding a emitting quirk or transformation quirk was one thing-- wearing your mutation, always, was something else entirely. Always being a shelled sci-fi film reject, always being shiny and stretchy.

@arsene

429 words

ooc notes:

THE PRAWN HUFFED, SHAKING HER HEAD.

“It’d change something for me,” she said, shaking her head. She refused to believe that people would be as cruel to her as a human-passing girl, as they were to something barely qualifiable as human. Sure, normal girls were harassed in a very different way, but… not quite like Charlie. There was a ruffling of fabric, and when the prawn opened her eyes, Kaito’s arm was outstretched, offering a coat.

The prawn surveyed the offering for a moment. She’d never been offered someone’s coat before. And, with all the movies she’d watched in the past year, she understood the connotations. A football player offering his letterman jacket to the demure cheerleader. But Kaito was no jock, and Charlie was no cheerleader. Her bioluminescent pores winked faintly across the cheeks, regardless—but the lights were so weak, it could be chalked-up to rainwater dripping off of her carapace in the dim firelight.

“Are you sure?” she asked, leaning forward. She delicately took the coat, drawing her legs to her chest. She didn’t want to rip the fabric with her spines, so rather than donning the coat she draped it over her knees and torso, like a small blanket, “Thank you, Kaito.”

The boy continued to wax philosophic about being more human. Maybe it was easier for him to think that way, as someone who looked almost-human. Kaito was like… a human with a little extra shine. Maybe he’d think differently if he were less human.

Charlotte hummed, sounding unconvinced. Overhead, the rain roared—she didn’t want to cause a disagreement amidst this torrential downpour, especially when they were sharing such a small space.

“I probably wouldn’t even be here, if I looked human,” the prawn mused absentmindedly, “I’d be living in… a nice house, with cold parents, in California. Maybe studying to be a doctor.”

@arsene

ooc notes: