Fuck You, Pay Me!

12. Kyoto

"You okay, darlin'?"

Katsuki offers Hitoshi a shaky nod, squeezing his hand ever so slightly in an attempt to quell his overworked nerves. He's well aware that Hitoshi is into some shady business but he's never been in a place this seedy before.

It's a little hole in the wall joint that seems to be at full capacity, but not overcrowded. The lighting is fairly dim, probably for multiple reasons that Katsuki didn't care to hear but we're undoubtedly linked to covering their identities should they be compromised. Katsuki's no expert by far, but these don't look like the kind of people to be fucked with.

One of those fuckers has a fuckin' knife for a hand, for fuck's sake.

Oddly enough, Hitoshi fits right in.

There are scantily clad women serving drinks and entertaining as well as they can when their audience is so grabby. Katsuki can barely hear the sound of his own heels clicking against the floor over their obviously forced and obnoxious giggling.

Poor girls. He hopes they're at least getting paid well.

"Eyes on me, sweet thing. You look these assholes in the eye for too long and they'll be on you before you can blink. I'm hoping to leave here tonight without any blood on my hands." Hitoshi urges, breaking the blonde out of his thoughts and snapping his gaze back ahead of him as he leans closer to Hitoshi when the older man's tattooed arm goes to loop around his waist. They make a beeline for the bar and Hitoshi politely helps Katsuki onto one of the high stools. He seems to notice how tense Katsuki is.

"Relax, baby doll, I didn't mean to scare ya. Nobody's gonna fuck with you with me around. Just stay by my side and take it easy, yeah?" He assures him, snapping his fingers to get the barkeeper's attention and nodding him over once the beefy man makes eye contact with him.

"Coke and rum---and make sure it's more rum than coke, yeah? Somethin' sweet for my baby here."

The man hums in affirmation, pausing to eye Katsuki a moment.

"How's a Shirley Temple, sweetheart?"

Katsuki opens his mouth to speak but instead stumbles over his words with a slight stutter.

"Shirley Temple's fine." Hitoshi replies for him and the man gets to work on them, returning a moment later with their drinks and a curious look about him. "Little shy to be around these parts." He says, though it's more a question. Hitoshi shrugs. "He's green."

The man grunts. "Call boy?"

Hitoshi bristles and shoots the man a warning glance. "I said he's mine." He reiterates and the man raises his hands in surrender with a fond chuckle. "Relax, son. Just curious is all, I'm not here to piss on your parade. Got a daughter his age. Pretty blonde thing, like him. I get a little worried when they bring em in this young, y'know? Keep the little ones safe." He says, wiping the counters down as he speaks. Hitoshi just eyed him a moment, glass poised at his lips but he doesn't drink from it.

A criminal with morals, huh?

"What's your name, old timer?" The mercenary asks, setting his glass down on the bar. The old man looks up with a smile. "Kugo. Kugo Sakamata. But they call me Orca." He introduces himself kindly, eyeing Hitoshi a little while longer. "I get a feelin' I know who you are. No introductory needed on your part."

"...You know who I am?" Hitoshi repeats skeptically, as if to call bullshit on the massive man. Orca chuckles at them. "I do. Your old man and I were acquaintances once. Good man. Not someone you wanted to piss off."

This catches Hitoshi's attention.

"You know my dad. You've seen him around lately?"

"Doubt anyone has. But word is that he's up in Nagoya these days.  I get the feeling you and your old man don't keep up much?"