Scryed story

"Oi! Bullet-san, where the heck are you?" was the cheerful greeting.

"I told you not to call me that," came the grouchy reply.

"Maa maa, is that any way to treat your source of income?"

Kazuma snorted, staring balefully at the dark-haired brunette. "Is it good, Kimishima?"

"Sure! We got a big haul ahead of us! They're willing-"

"I don't care how much they're willing to pay for it," the younger of the two interupted, "I just want to have some fun." The sound of popping knuckles followed eagerly. "I could always steal some food if I need it. I just wanna know if your mission's more worthy of my time than getting food," came the blunt reply as the native alter dug around in the rubble, scavanging for God knows what.

Kimishima stared at the teen appraisingly though his one good eye, trying to judge the other's character for the x-th time in a week.

A week since he'd come to the alter user with his first business proposal.

A week since he'd put his life on the line based on sheer faith that his brass teen in front of him would pull though.

A week since he'd gotten the hell beat out of him and had his right eye punched closed, his lip cracked and his shoulder dislocated.

...

Ouch.

But, no matter how hard he tired, he just couldn't understand this kid's mind.

He wasn't interested in money.

He didn't particularly care what was gonna appear on the hypothetical dinner table.

He had no permanent residence.

No relations.

No friends?

He was totally free.

It was almost as if the kid wasn't human.

...And yet he had more passion and convicition than any other human he'd ever met.

Better stop trying before I get a migrane, Kimishima sighed.

Kazuma was an Alter; a human with the ability to bend matter to his will. He was still pretty scrawny at the age of 14, but living on the streets would do that to you. Dark, reddish hair flopped over his forehead, just barely short enough to avoid bothering his eyes.

A person's Alter would take the form best suited for that person, and in Kazuma's case, it was an arm as hard as stone, with a fist to match. Fitting for a punk with nothing better to do than to pick fights.

Kimishima sat himself down on a random piece of rubble, propped his arm up, and tried to make himself comfortable.

"How would you like to take down an illegal child labour operation?"

Kazuma's eyes flickered over in his direction.

"Who the hell would care enough to sponsor that?"

The invalid made an attempt at a raised eyebrow and the young Alter user turned his back, radiating a gruff embarrassment and discomfort.

"You're not in?" asked Kimishima, a little bit of bite in his voice.

"I didn't say that," grumbled the other, "I just..."

The sound of tumbling rubble.

"...never thought someone would spend money on something like that," was the quiet retort. Kazuma brushed a hand through his hair and growled inwardly at his display. He always spoke before he thought things through-

No, I just always say what I think, when I think it...

Another frustrated inner growl.

Kimishima was still staring accusingly at him with that one good eye and Kazuma's own eyes narrowed in response.

Che, who the hell is he to judge me?! Acting all high-n-mighty, thought Kazuma, temper flaring in an instant. It's just another quick cash grab for him.

"Well," Kimishima drawled carefully, shifting his arm and whincing at the pain in his shoulder, "Someone's losing profits if some guy out there's using cheap kid labour to do their business, ne?"

Kazuma stood straight, his arms folded across his chest as he turned to face his new partner. "Guess so."

"You'll get to blow up stuff."

"I'd better."

"Odds will probably be stacked against you."

"No kidding."

"You in?"

A smirk.

"Try and stop me."

<CENTER>--------S---C---R---Y---E---D--------</CENTER>

Splash!

Still raining.

He'd been on the run since last night, hitting consecutive factories. Kimishima had assured him that the kids were no where near the current vacinity at the moment, so he'd been free to take down the operation as he saw fit.

This generally involved a lot of explosions.

Splash

Another puddle.

What the...?

Unfaltering steps carried him towards the blob of orange, resolving the shape into a slight figure under an umbrella.

Kuso, Kimishima....

He stopped and leaned back against the ruined wall, grasping his arms at the elbows. He was getting cold after being in the rain for so long.

You told me there were no kids around...

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the umbrella lift and a wary, emerald-eyed face peek out from underneath its shade.

"Yo," he greeted, putting on his best benign smile and turning to face the girl.

"Let me take a rest here, ok?"

The girl was probably about 7 or 8, with long auburn hair tied in a high ponytail with a worn ribbon. The sleeves of her faded orange jacket had to be rolled up so as not to totally engulf her petite hands. Clenched in one fist was her open umbrella. Clenched in the other was a loaf of old bread.

Trembling, she offered that bread to him.

"What the heck are you doing?" he nearly growled, fighting to keep a scowl off his face. No need to scare her off, right?

Wow, she's really shaking!

"I don't want to get hurt," she whispered in a high child's voice.

Internally, Kazuma scowled at the thought of hurting a child. Externally, he just rolled his eyes.

"I'm not robbing you for some food," he casually stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Besides, you can get hurt anywhere, any time, and from anyone. It's just like that."

Hope you take this warning, kid.

"Decide before you make a move. Take everything, or give up on everything."

He turned to face her again, eyes burning fiercely despite his aloof behavior.

"So, what's your move?"

The girl stared unwaveringly up at him, her fear seemingly gone. Instead it was replaced by quiet contemplation.

Stuffing the umbrella handle under the crook of her elbow, she tore the the loaf in half... And offered the unbitten piece to him.

Kazuma was floored.

"Huh?"

Didn't she hear anything I said? Does 'take everything' and 'leave everything' not mean what it should anymore?!

He attempted a glare...

His stomache rumbled instead, to which he instantly thought: Traitor!

...

In the end, he accepted the half-loaf.

<CENTER>--------S---C---R---Y---E---D--------</CENTER>

Kimishima cursed as he jarred his shoulder again.

The doctor (an attractive lady doctor at that) had told him not to aggrivate it more than nescesary. Supposedly it would be prone to pop back out of position again. That's the funny thing about dislocated joints.

Now, as much as he'd personally love to see the foxy doc again, he'd much prefer to meet her over a nice candle-light dinner as opposed to a neon-lit examination table. He wasn't personally fond of having a non-functional arm, besides.

Escpecially when he was sitting in a brand new car, curtesy of last week's hoard.

He patted the dashboard lovingly has his mind wandered back to the current predicament.

Where the hell are you, Kazuma?!

He scanned the landscape in agitation.

There are things I need to tell you, dammit. The situation's changed and you need to be updated, but noooo, let's not meet Kimishima as planned and blow the whole operation to hell, ne?

He squinted and rubbed his good eye.

Che! I'm starting to talk about myself in third person.

With that, he decided to give his car a spin around the premises. With any luck, he might just spot his wayward alter user.

....Right....

TBC