Chapter Text
If you told Kuki Shinobu five years ago that she’ll be working the same dead-end job at twenty that she is at fifteen, she’d laugh in your face. Maybe even spit a little, to really drive the incredulity home.
She’s certainly not laughing now.
Corporate sends her a fifty dollar gift card to congratulate her on half a decade of loyal service and she has a breakdown in the storeroom. Sure, she buys herself a new corset and belly button ring, but it’s hard not to feel like she’s wasting her life.
Shinobu doesn’t bother to clean up the eyeliner congealed along her lower eyelids or dab away the excess mascara caked under her eyes before returning to the cash register. She gives the kid paying for the Matsune Hiku merch a withering glare as they hand her their card.
The customer leaves and Shinobu turns her attention to her co-workers. Employees. Whatever. It’s not like General Manager of Hot Gossip #147 is a particularly prestigious position. Not to mention that every one of the teens she supervises has at least four inches on her.
Shinobu can’t blame them for slacking off. She wouldn’t listen to a 4’11” bitch with a stupid job title either. Still, they really can’t be smoking in the stock room. No matter how badly she was tempted to join them.
“Scaramouche, Prinzessin—“ God, are high schoolers these days really cycling back to the whole scene name thing from back in 2012? “—Ditch the joint before I call security. Then, finish restocking the body jewelry so we can leave and lock up.”
Sure, they’ll be closing early, but it’s a Wednesday night. All the baby mall goths are gone by now— they have school tomorrow, the little runts.
She slams the storeroom door shut and makes for the store entrance before either can respond. She’s not worried about either of them bailing— they’re too dependent on the employee discount to ever fully skip on a shift— and she’s too goddamn bored to spend one more minute inventorying band tees.
Shinobu makes a bee-line for the Spender’s kitty-corner from her store. If there’s one thing her brother is good for — other than lighters, larceny, and rides to and from work — it’s entertainment. She can kill the next fifteen minutes pushing his buttons and reaping the rewards before returning to her monotonous life of shilling overpriced Jacqueline Skellyton merch and facilitating low-level drug busts.
Itto gives the little girl seated in front of him a small smile as he finishes sanitizing the piercing gun. “You excited to get your ears pierced?”
Even as she nods, her throat bobs nervously. “Totally.”
“Hey,” Itto crouches down to meet her eyes. “I promise it doesn’t hurt that bad. Look at how many times I’ve done it— I wouldn’t get this many if they really hurt, would I?”
The girl looks at him with wide, slightly watery eyes. “You promise?”
Itto nods, holding up his little finger. “Pinky promise.”
She nods, screwing her eyes tight as she links her pinky with his. “I’m ready.”
Itto grabs the second piercing gun and lines the needles up with the felt-tip-marked points on her ears. Might as well do both at once and cut down the number of times she has to sit through it.
He cleans away the blood with a rubbing-alcohol soaked cotton ball and hands the girl a lollipop as she stands up. “Strong work, Yaoyao. Really badass.”
The girl beams as her mother glares at him. He ignores her— he does this job for the love of it, not for the tips nor the maternal approval.
The two shuffle off to the earring starter-sets as Itto turns his attention to the next person in line, frowning as he realizes that this customer is not an under-10 seeking a new-semester look, but is in fact a girl about the same age as his sister.
Itto takes a minute to size her up, which is pretty much immediately a mistake. She’s hot — the kind of hot he’d do anything for, which includes providing half-decent customer service. Her fitted lavender polo clings to her tits, the bottom half of her thighs visible under her perfectly-pleated, snow-white tennis skirt. Jesus, she’s curvy and clearly too good for him?
Violet eyes narrow at him as he straightens up, doing his best to wheel the piercing cart in front of his crotch. “Then, uh,” Itto reaches one arm up to scratch the back of his head, squinting to read the Alabaster & Fish-branded name tag on her lapel, “How can I help you, Sara?”
“I’m trying to buy a gift for my niece, and there’s no one at the register.”
“Of course not.” Fuckin’ Miko, bailing and leaving him in charge. He doesn’t even really work here. He just pierces kids when he gets bored or needs a little extra spending money. “Well, sorry, but I don’t have a key to the register, so let’s just call it on the house.”
“You don’t need a key to check me out.” Sara crosses her arms, still glaring, and Itto shrugs.
“Right. But I don’t actually work here, so…” he trails off, peeling off his nitrile gloves and tossing them into the biohazard trash can.
“But you just pierced a child’s ears?”
“The manager’s not so keen on blood. She pays me five bucks an earring under the table. Seven if the kid’s a screamer.”
Sara looks absolutely appalled. “That’s illegal.”
“So’s most stuff.” Itto straightens up. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“You’re not going to ring me up?”
“Nah.”
She rolls her eyes and marches away from him, approaching the cash register. She sets a set of daisy-shaped earrings on the counter, flips them around so they’re bar-code side up, scans the code with the reader gun, and swipes her card. She waits until her receipt is done printing, signs it, and sticks the guest copy in her wallet, glaring at Itto as she leaves the store.
“Thanks for nothing, asshole.”
“You’re super welcome.” He watches her go for a good thirty seconds before digging his phone out of his pocket and shooting off a text.
Itto: do u kno sara??
xiaopao: ?
Itto: uuuhhh the hot chick who works at a&f?
xiaopao: ??
Itto: alabaster & fish. asian shawty with a nice rack.
Itto: seems like she has a stick up her ass
xiaopao: oh, yeah. i know her. you should too, actually. she’s one of your sister’s friends.
Itto: i dont talk to any of her friends
Itto: also wtf wait where do u kno her from
xiaopao: she’s keqing’s roommate, lol.
Itto: fascinating
xiaopao: why are you asking anyway?
Itto: dont worry about it
xiaopao: say less.
The kid working the Spender’s register says Itto took on a few extra hours piercing at the Clara’s on the mall’s second level.
Typical. Of course her brother would rather make kids cry than do his actual fucking job. Shinobu decides not to shoot the messenger too badly and only turns on half of the display vibrators out of spite on her way out the door.
By the time she gets back to Hot Gossip, the whole place has devolved into sheer chaos.
There’s been a shoplifting incident, apparently— one that’s gone wrong enough for half of the displays to wind up on the floor. Scaramouche stands in the middle of the carnage, fruitlessly re-pairing Demoniqua creepers and collecting oversized Flynn The Human hats. Princesszin waves solemnly at Shinobu as she stands by the store’s landline, receiver tucked under one ear as she waits for mall security to respond.
It seems like the culprit got away, despite the minimal effort of Shinobu’s most mediocre employees. Shocking. She sends them home when it becomes apparent that they will be helpful neither as witnesses nor restockers and tells them to get their act together before their next shift.
Mall security shows up a few minutes after Shinobu begins re-assembling the My Villain Curricula merch display. She nearly drops the beanie she’s holding when the officer shows up.
It’s not the usual ancient rent-a-cop rolling up on his equally-ancient Segway. For one, this guy’s ditched the Segway altogether. Second—he’s hot: in that weird, semi-nerdy way that Shinobu quite frankly never understood why she was into but was, anyway. He leans against the door frame, muscles straining against the crisp blue polo he’d ironed to the point of shrinkage. He flashes Shinobu a smile as she looks up at him.
“Hey. Are you the manager?”
“Hi.“ Shinobu tries to think of something else to say. “Yes.” Nailed it. No wonder she’s single.
“I’m Heizou, the new security guard. Sorry it took me so long to get here. This place is a maze.”
Shinobu’s about to say something clever— maybe along the lines of do you wanna forget the shoplifting and go check out the storeroom? or haha, yeah, everything here looks the same or hi, I’m Shinobu, does the sausage match the drapes? — when she’s cut off by Itto’s voice.
“Jesus Christ, Shinobu. What the hell happened in here?”