533/How To Take A Punch

How To Take A Punch
Date of Scene:	30 September 2023
Location:	Somewhere in Tokyo
Synopsis:	(Backscene to considerably before game start) The first time Makoto Kino met Kazuo Saitou. Let's just say he deserved it.
Cast of Characters:	Kazuo Saitou, Makoto Kino

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Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Tall. Light-haired. White shirt.

That's the description that Makoto's (smaller, younger) classmate reluctantly gave of the person who put the bruises on his face. Not from their school, he'd said. A stranger, who'd just decided that some of them made easy targets. Maybe for petty theft - allowance money, jewelry - maybe just for fun.

And this one is tall. He's got a year or two on Makoto, but even so, there aren't that many boys that age taller than her, and his couple of inches stand out.

White shirt, black trousers, check. Sunglasses hiding eyes. No identifiable school uniform. Not a face she's ever seen in school.

Long light hair? His is white.

And he's lurking at the edges of out of the way places, where adults are unlikely to catch what's going on. Lurking, and watching. Waiting for something, or someone, with a certain quality of smug arrogance that's just this side of openly looking for a fight.

Makoto Kino has posed:
He's looking for trouble, and so it won't take long at all for Kazuo to clock when trouble has taken notice of him. A slowing of steps, a sharp look from across the way. She's a tall girl - not his height, of course, but enough closer than most to be remarkable - and she's got the awkwardly rangy build of someone who hasn't yet fully caught up with their last growth spurt. The height makes it hard to tell if she's his age or a couple years younger.

Curly reddish hair, mostly pulled back from her face. A school uniform he may or may not recognize, skirt worn long despite the considerable length of leg it has to cover to reach below the knee. A tight-lipped set to her face as she heads toward him with purposeful strides. She looks, let's be honest, like nothing so much as a sukeban, a girl delinquent looking to pick a fight.

"Hey," she says when she reaches conversational distance, settling her weight back a little and folding her arms over her chest. Her eyes are green, sharp-edged as bottle-glass. It's not a particularly friendly sort of greeting.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Mirrored stances, down to the folded arms. He lowers his head to glance at her over the dark lenses, gray gaze travelling down her height - evaluation, not dwelling, stopping at the length of her skirt and flicking back up to meet those broken-glass eyes.

Eyebrows twitch upward, then, only then. "What? Did I take your spot?"

Everyone is so friendly here. Yes.

Makoto Kino has posed:
That assessing elevator stare doesn't leave her looking any friendlier. This close, he can see that her ears are pierced, too - another 'delinquent' box checked, even if the pink rose stud earrings don't exactly scream "tough girl swag."

"If I say you did," she replies,"will you just go find some other dark corner around here to lurk in? 'Cause if so, I don't think that's really going to solve our problem."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
He laughs, at that, and his arms unfold and fall to his side; but the lightness of the sound has an edge to it, and the easing of his stance is a readiness, not relaxation. "Is there a shortage of dark corners around here, then? Supply-chain issues?"

Makoto Kino has posed:
She rolls her eyes, and uncrosses her own arms. Almost mirroring him, except in her case it's to plant a hand on her hip, trading one confrontational stance for another.

"Maybe I just think you need better hobbies," she tells him. "Some people have better things to do than shake down grade schoolers for their pocket money."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
White eyebrows rise a little further ... and then the boy tosses back his head and just laughs.

Future him would probably be resignedly reminding him to use his words right now.

Makoto Kino has posed:
In another time and place, the girl might have kept a better rein on her temper... but there's only so much anger one person can contain. Only so much frustration. And Makoto Kino has been at a steady simmer for years now.

He laughs, and those sharp green eyes narrow, her lips pressing into a tight, thin line. Without another word - so swiftly and smoothly that it's barely telegraphed by any shift of weight or stance - she drops her hand from her hip and snaps the other into a jabbing punch aimed right at his face.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
If he'd been watching her, he might have been able to get out of the way. Heads are designed to be easy to relocate; the whole body can get in on the act. But, just for a moment, he stopped watching. Only for a moment - which means he manages at least to pull his head down enough not to be knocked senseless.

The sound he makes at impact isn't even a grunt, a catch of breath stifled in his throat; his head snaps further to the side and he staggers a step that way and back to keep from falling on his ass.

-- and then keeps moving, balance back in the next step, head coming up into a bloodied, fierce, delighted grin even while his eyes are still out of focus. He doesn't need to see her clearly, after all.

Apparently he thinks he doesn't need to play on his reach, either, because an instant later he closes again, fist aimed for her stomach. At least he's not going out of his way to land her in trouble in school. Yet, anyhow.

Makoto Kino has posed:
Delinquent the girl may be, but it doesn't take long to become clear that she's more than just another hot-tempered young scrapper. She's ready for retaliation even as he closes again; one foot slides back, angling her body away from the blow even as she meets his punch with an arm-lock. Gutsy, considering he's got weight and height on her, but she'd already proved that much by confronting him in the first place.

"Tough luck," she grits through her teeth, "not all of us are pushovers."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
As a hot-tempered young scrapper himself - he could go for the hair. It's right there as a target. Just like his. Maybe that's why he doesn't. Or maybe it's more to do with why he turns his head away from her when he spits the blood out of his mouth, keeping it off her blouse and skirt. And he hasn't lost the lightness to his voice, as if he were offering her a private joke between the two of them. "I wasn't looking for the pushovers."

Makoto Kino has posed:
"Yeah? Could've fooled me."

If she thinks she's got an advantage in the moment, she doesn't press it. She just lifts her chin to glare up at him, those grass-green eyes narrowed and hot with anger. "I'm sick of seeing kids show up at school with bruises. If you weren't looking for pushovers, it's time to start picking your targets better."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
He starts to smile again, slower. Slower turns out to be good, because when a punch doesn't hurt in the moment ... pushing those muscles is another story. A wince, and a reflexive scowl, and the smile goes away. "I think," he says, steady and a little more careful, "we might be looking for the same people."

... his eyes crinkle just a little. Mostly on the safer side. "And damn, but I want to see what happens when you do get hold of them."

Makoto Kino has posed:
With that, he's caught her flat-footed. Her eyes widen, mouth opening in surprise that it takes her a half-second to actually verbalize: "What?"

Abruptly she's disengaging, taking a hasty couple of steps back to put some space between them. From this vantage, she gives him a hard, dubious look. "Somebody's been picking on kids from my school. Tall. Light hair. White shirt. You're telling me that's not you?"

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"What?" he echoes back at her first startled monosyllable. "You're good at this. Fast. Sharp --"

Oh. Oh, that what.

He reaches up with both hands to push his hair back behind his shoulders. "All light hair takes is some bleach. It's not me. I'm betting it's an asshat from my school who's been doing a little too much bragging lately. But I can't beat the shit out of him unless I actually catch him. And --" Gray eyes gleam, delighted again. "-- looks like somebody else has dibs."

Makoto Kino has posed:
"Oh my god." The words rush out of her in an exhaled breath. Any lingering belligerence drains away with it, leaving her face a study in horrified dismay. "I'm so sorry!"

It doesn't even seem to occur to her to question his explanation any further. She's already bowing, deep and formal in full apology. "I was sure it must've been you, and when you laughed I lost my temper - ugh, in the face too! And here I was fussing about people turning up with bruises..."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"Are you kidding?" He reaches out as if to straighten her out of the bow, but at least has enough sense not to actually make contact. Talking over her apology, on the other hand, he doesn't have the sense to avoid. "Do you realize how long it's been since somebody landed something on me? I have been bored out of my mind, and here you are, to the rescue..."

Makoto Kino has posed:
She straightens up on her own, in any case. Still flustered, red-faced, but giving him a reassessing look now as she pushes her hair back out of her face. "I'm supposed to be staying out of trouble, not starting more of it," she protests with a faint note of exasperation. "But... Well, at least you know how to take a punch."

She doesn't seem to quite know what to do with her hands, and settles for dusting imaginary grit off her skirt. "Makoto Kino," she offers. "I guess if you knew any more about where to find the real asshole than I do, you'd already have kicked the crap out of him, huh?"

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
His turn to bow to her. "Kazuo Saitou. And alas. But you're welcome to my dark corner if you want it; that was my best guess for a lurking spot." ... which put him exactly in Makoto's line of fire. Whoops. Well. If they both thought of that area, maybe they're right.

Makoto Kino has posed:
Makoto blows out a breath that ruffles her bangs slightly. "No, that's okay. I'll just have to keep on keeping an eye out. I am not claiming dibs if you run into him first, anyway. I don't care who makes him stop picking on kids who can't fight back, just as long as he stops."

Having said this, she shifts her weight uncertainly from one foot to the other. For a moment, it seems like she's about to excuse herself - but then she doesn't. After a glance down the street, her curious gaze returns to Kazuo.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"And granted," Kazuo admits, "we should both clear out for tonight. Just in case." Just in case anyone did see that, and contacted anyone who might try to do something about it.

He straightens up, just a little, back to the height he was standing at earlier, instead of the slightly constricted 'ow' posture. "Buy you ice cream? For the inconvenience of my accidentally masquerading as the wrong lurker."

Makoto Kino has posed:
She winces automatically at the reminder that their brief scuffle could easily have attracted attention neither of them needs. "...Yeah," she agrees, "good point."

Her posture adjusts as his does - weight settling a little further back, a certain re-evaluation like she's just now realizing just how tall he really is. Is that a fresh blush rising in her face? Maybe. "I feel like I should be offering, not you," she points out, "but since you already refused to let me apologize... sure. Ice cream sounds pretty good."