⌈I am not a kind person, and neither is fate.⌋
Ichimaru stared at the girl, his golden eyes narrowing in discontent when she spoke. It wasn't nice to call someone names? What part of him made her assume he was nice to begin with? "Isn't nice," he repeated his words to himself, as if trying to understand and grasp at the concept of what she meant. His eyes narrowed further as he glared at the girl. "If you paid attention, you wouldn't have been called a twat in the first place, twat," he stated, her very presence begining to irritate him. It only grew when she offered her hand, causing his brow to raise slightly in confusion. Did she want him to shake her hand? Really now, that was just stupid. Why would he want to touch a human?
"Why would I do such a stupid thing like that?" he spat, the tension rising as his jaw clicked into place. Either this girl was as stupid as she looked—and he means this in as nice a way as possible—or she wanted something from him. It was not unheard of, really, and Ichimaru's irritation was growing. He generally did not do well with the general populace, and this girl was no exception. He would admit to a faint sense of familiarity, as if he'd seen her somewhere before, however; it immediately vanished. Maybe she was one of those donors Ryoka had mentioned earlier? They were, perhaps, the one type of human Ichimaru loathed. Donors were humans who wanted to be special in some way or another, especially towards purebloods, however; if a pureblood bit a human, they would be turned.
Even if the war between the two species had ended, there were still some lingering fools who tried to reignite it, to press forward with a strange sense of genocide. He cleared his thoughts, however, and continued staring at the girl. "Out of my way already, girl," he spoke, staring at her as he waited for her to move. He wasn't a good person, and he wasn't going to start just because some girl decided he should be. It didn't help that a small group of people had stopped to watch the scene unfold. He could feel their eyes on his form, and could hear slight whispers of disapproval of the way he was acting.
He gritted his teeth at the memory. Shiori had been kind and patient in teaching him these things, and he would be dishonoring her memory if he didn't do as she asked of him. Slowly, he pulled his hand out from the confines of his pocket, and reached up to grasp the girls'. "Don't think this makes us right," he spoke, giving the girl's hand a bitter squeeze before relinquishing it. He really hated being around people, and touching them. "Begone with all of you, already! This isn't some fucking scene for you to gawk at," he stated towards the group of people who had gathered around. Really, this wasn't his day.
Ryoka, on the other hand, stared at the man who had entered her shop. "Six?" she spoke the name, the familiarity of it rolling from her tongue. "It has been a long time since someone last called me that," she continued, ignoring the first statement he had made. This is what she did now—she grew flowers and tended to them. Was there something wrong with that? She grabbed a few stems of his chosen flower, wrapping them meticulously in paper before applying a wet paper towel on the ends of the stems. It would keep them alive for however long it took him to place them in water. Her eyes narrowed slightly, however, at his next statement. The way he spoke, it was as if he were giving her no choice in the matter, and the room could be felt getting a bit colder. She did not like being threatened.
"How do you know that name?" she finally asked. No one should know of Ichimaru, or herself, since Sanguine Industries had perished. That had been centuries ago—there was no possible way records of them could still exist. She had made sure to destroy any that still lingered after Sanguine Industries. "It doesn't matter; the answer you will get is no," she decided. She was not a lab rat, nor would she ever consent to being one. Even if he had not said it outloud, she could tell that was his intention from the start by the look in his eyes. She knew that look all too well, and it was one she would never forget. They had looked at her the same way, as nothing more than an experiment for them to play with. Shiori was the only one who had given her some form of humanity, and helped her realize that, even if she was a genetically altered creature, she still had a soul, and should never allow herself to be subjugated to that torture again.
"If this is all you need, I would like it if you left my store, Mr. Blake. I would also appreciate it if you did not call me by that, again. My name is Kuragari Ryoka, not six," she added, handing him the flowers. She would not accept payment for them. "The only payment I will accept for these is for you to leave. If you wish other business that deals with my shop, I will gladly oblige, but anything other than that will not be acknowledged," she continued. The smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, was left plastered on her face. She remained as humble as she could for this man, Sayge Blake. She knew who he was, but that did not seem to concern her. She was, after all, much older and stronger than this human. She would not need to worry for her own safety.
"Why would I do such a stupid thing like that?" he spat, the tension rising as his jaw clicked into place. Either this girl was as stupid as she looked—and he means this in as nice a way as possible—or she wanted something from him. It was not unheard of, really, and Ichimaru's irritation was growing. He generally did not do well with the general populace, and this girl was no exception. He would admit to a faint sense of familiarity, as if he'd seen her somewhere before, however; it immediately vanished. Maybe she was one of those donors Ryoka had mentioned earlier? They were, perhaps, the one type of human Ichimaru loathed. Donors were humans who wanted to be special in some way or another, especially towards purebloods, however; if a pureblood bit a human, they would be turned.
Even if the war between the two species had ended, there were still some lingering fools who tried to reignite it, to press forward with a strange sense of genocide. He cleared his thoughts, however, and continued staring at the girl. "Out of my way already, girl," he spoke, staring at her as he waited for her to move. He wasn't a good person, and he wasn't going to start just because some girl decided he should be. It didn't help that a small group of people had stopped to watch the scene unfold. He could feel their eyes on his form, and could hear slight whispers of disapproval of the way he was acting.
"Remember, Ichi-kun, humans are more frail than they appear. You must be kind to them unless you want negative reactions."
He gritted his teeth at the memory. Shiori had been kind and patient in teaching him these things, and he would be dishonoring her memory if he didn't do as she asked of him. Slowly, he pulled his hand out from the confines of his pocket, and reached up to grasp the girls'. "Don't think this makes us right," he spoke, giving the girl's hand a bitter squeeze before relinquishing it. He really hated being around people, and touching them. "Begone with all of you, already! This isn't some fucking scene for you to gawk at," he stated towards the group of people who had gathered around. Really, this wasn't his day.
Ryoka, on the other hand, stared at the man who had entered her shop. "Six?" she spoke the name, the familiarity of it rolling from her tongue. "It has been a long time since someone last called me that," she continued, ignoring the first statement he had made. This is what she did now—she grew flowers and tended to them. Was there something wrong with that? She grabbed a few stems of his chosen flower, wrapping them meticulously in paper before applying a wet paper towel on the ends of the stems. It would keep them alive for however long it took him to place them in water. Her eyes narrowed slightly, however, at his next statement. The way he spoke, it was as if he were giving her no choice in the matter, and the room could be felt getting a bit colder. She did not like being threatened.
"How do you know that name?" she finally asked. No one should know of Ichimaru, or herself, since Sanguine Industries had perished. That had been centuries ago—there was no possible way records of them could still exist. She had made sure to destroy any that still lingered after Sanguine Industries. "It doesn't matter; the answer you will get is no," she decided. She was not a lab rat, nor would she ever consent to being one. Even if he had not said it outloud, she could tell that was his intention from the start by the look in his eyes. She knew that look all too well, and it was one she would never forget. They had looked at her the same way, as nothing more than an experiment for them to play with. Shiori was the only one who had given her some form of humanity, and helped her realize that, even if she was a genetically altered creature, she still had a soul, and should never allow herself to be subjugated to that torture again.
"If this is all you need, I would like it if you left my store, Mr. Blake. I would also appreciate it if you did not call me by that, again. My name is Kuragari Ryoka, not six," she added, handing him the flowers. She would not accept payment for them. "The only payment I will accept for these is for you to leave. If you wish other business that deals with my shop, I will gladly oblige, but anything other than that will not be acknowledged," she continued. The smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, was left plastered on her face. She remained as humble as she could for this man, Sayge Blake. She knew who he was, but that did not seem to concern her. She was, after all, much older and stronger than this human. She would not need to worry for her own safety.