buttermilk

This wasn’t really what I had in mind when I asked Kong to show me around Mitakihara, though it was probably what I should have expected from her – a tiny shack of a bar with no sign or anything, save for a patch of neon in the window that glowed in the fading light of the early evening. The kind smoke damn near poured out of when you opened the door, that reeked of liquor and broken dreams even from outside. It was…cramped. You could call it cozy, I guess.

There were a few people there aside from us, old men slumped over their drinks. Not crying. Old men wrung out of tears, probably. …Bartender was just the opposite, though, a tall, black man with an afro. He had a scowl that I bet he was born with, and one that I figured he’d probably die with, someday. An ageless sort of man.

…A shitty dive bar in a shitty part of a foreign country. I wondered aloud how Kong knew I was looking to get raped. She snorted, and the bartender’s scowl turned on me. Ordered some whiskey, and Kong did the same. …I was seventeen then, and she was younger than me, but the bartender – Charles, I found out later – didn’t ask. Didn’t seem to care. Just offered a gruff, professional courtesy to anyone who needed a drink.

…I hoped my yakuza rape-baby at least came out with a sweet dragon tattoo. Kong forced back a laugh and elbowed me hard, almost enough to send me off the bar stool.

“You really like to bitch, don’t you.”

---

Wasn’t sure when it became a contest, but after a couple of drinks, we were each eying how much the other was having, and it became a sort of measured contest to stay ahead. Not chugging them – we weren’t fucking college kids, or middle-aged office workers. She’d take a sip. I’d take a bigger sip. She’d match it, then slam the rest down, and I’d follow suit. …The atmosphere really warmed up once you were a little buzzed. It was comfy. And once you learned to speak Charles a little bit, he was an alright guy. According to Kong, he didn’t ask about the people here because he knew anyone coming into a bar like this was having a rough-ass time already. Great guy.

“What happened to your stupid braids.” When Kong asked a question, it was always a demand. …Told her I wanted to look nice to go to her shitty dive bar. Proper fucking member of the Eighth. Diplomacy. Same reason I came in my nice dress. Nice jacket. Nice boots.

“You look like a skank.” …It was a cheongsam, dammit. It was a gift. Christ. Even magical girls could dress up once in a while.

…She was staring at my face.

…Fucking stop it.

“…You should tie it back.” …What? “Your hair. …Put it in...” When Kong started to mumble, I realized something.

She was drunker than I was. Probably shouldn’t have been surprised – she was smaller than me. Probably hadn’t started drinking until recently either; didn’t have to deal with rednecks every day at the Ninth. …A responsible person probably would have cut her off, but fuck it. Liver damage wasn’t a big deal for us anymore. Wouldn’t be the first time either of us made asses of ourselves in public, either. …Still had people in the Ninth calling me Vomit-tan after last time.

…Guess the less roundabout way of saying it…I grabbed the bottle of Kong on the counter and finished it off right there. Fuck it. Kong started to laugh, and in spite of myself, I did, too.

---

She put my hair up in ponyails. Dunno why but she thinks its really cute and when she smiles I feel a little less stupid about it. theyre fluffy and I look like someone from annies stupid animus. She keeps playing with em and its kind of pissing me off but her face gets really close every time and her breath smells like cigaretes and whisky. theres a little whiskey on her chin this time. charls wont give us any more but fuck him.

The next time she leans in I lick it off because iw ill tell you when I am done fucking drinking charls

and then we kissed. Didnt really mean to but i wanted a cigarette. her lips were really soft, and she froze right away but i didnt. I pulled her in and she kind of fell off the bar stool and onto me, but shes so tiny its not like it was hard to hold onto her.

homu

she made that cute noise again when we stopped, then her arms were around my neck and she pushed me off the bar stool and we just stayed on the floor for a while just like that,until charls kicked us out because hes an asshole

i love you murderface

---

Woke up a lot more naked than I was accustomed to. Underwear was still all in the right place, but...figured I’d be lucky if my cheongsam wasn’t wrecked, wherever the hell it was. ...Even more disturbing was the company. Seemed like we’d made it back to Kong’s apartment in one piece – probably thanks to Miss Tomoe somehow – and we’d...made it back into her bed, too. Both of us. ...Still there. ...Silky black hair was just a few inches from my nose. Kong’s head was buried in my neck.

...She made that noise again as I tried to sneak away. Had to get a drink and some aspirin, but... ...Mostly I wanted to get breakfast. It took a few minutes to pry her off without waking her up, but it was probably worth it. ...She didn’t need to think I molested her or something.

There wasn’t a whole lot in the kitchen. Buttermilk. Flour. Sugar. Baking soda. Eggs. ...She really was into pancakes, so it was pretty obvious what breakfast was going to be. Dug up an apron from one of the cabinets. ‘Tiro Tiro’ on the front. ...Didn’t really suit Kong at all, but it’d do for me. Little frilly, but better than getting batter all over my underwear.

Barely got a chance to start before the door opened and someone slipped into the kitchen, clearly trying to be quiet. I glanced back over my shoulder. Took a guess as to who it was, and...

“Cooldown...san? Oh my, I didn’t expect you to be awake. It seems like you two had a rough night together, so...” Miss Tomoe was as sweet as ever. She didn’t miss a beat, didn’t wonder at what I was wearing. Even kept it quiet. ...I told her I woke up a little early and wanted to get breakfast. She was welcome to take over if she wanted-

“Hmm. No, it would be rude to barge in, wouldn’t it?” Her ever-present smile widened, and I could feel my face burning hot. ...She pretty much saw right through me. “But...I’m not making any assumptions here, but...if you happened to want to make something Murderface will really enjoy waking up to, I can certainly give you a few tips.”

...Yeah. ...Guess I’d...appreciate that.

---

Get up.

I nudged Kong’s sleeping form. ...Again. And again. Then I just shook her with my free hand. True to form, she rolled away in an instant, snatching a handgun that was under her pillow away and taking a shot at my head. ...Predictable. It shaved off a couple of hairs, but it wasn’t enough. Told her to stop being retarded.

Through bleary eyes she stared at me for a moment, then adjusted her aim. But before she got a chance to squeeze the trigger again, I thrust the plate of honey-and-syrup-drowned pancakes out between us, then sat down on the bed where she’d been sleeping a second before. Like a cautious animal, she leaned in toward the plate, like she was going to sniff it, then grumbled a little as she snatched it away and shoved a hunk of pancake in her mouth.

...Guess I wasn’t that hungry after all. I was pretty alright with licking the mixture of honey, butter, and syrup off of my knife. ...Told her not to overthink it. I was hungry and there was some batter left over.

...That’s all.