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Her juniors recalled the scenario in near perfect detail when they came barreling into her conversation with Miss Dollie. With a few tears, messed up uniforms, and missing book bag.
Dovebrook District was teeming with gangs, Himeko knew that better than some of her seniors who turned the blind eye or just didn’t give a damn. The group was just trying to have some fun, it was after school and apparently the Graphia Academy uniforms made them a supposedly easy target. And one of them had his book bag stolen, which was containing an important art assignment for Miss Dollie’s class.
Himeko couldn’t stand by as her junior panicked. The deadline was tomorrow after all. So, she did what was most rational. She was taller than most, and her martial arts proved better than any of that dumb street fighting those idiots tried on her juniors.
The District is still loud as ever. With Planarcadia’s decorated moon having it’s reflection waver in the Dovebrook river. Thugs lurk the ally, and Himeko could already feel the burning temperature of someone boring holes into the back of her head.
She stuck to her school uniform, maybe it would draw those thugs out even earlier. Himeko leaned on the railing near the river, above the wooden walkway by the water itself. She basked in her water, maybe she could toss them in…that would teach those people a lesson. Or take a swim for herself as she dragged them.
Straightening herself, she twisted around, letting the railing dig into her lower back. Using the chance to take a glance at her surroundings.
Himeko’s breath hitched, there.
A lone figure stood in a nearby alleyway, holding an oh so familiar bag off their elbow. They had an umbrella covering their upper body, but from the angle they were faced away from Himeko’s direction. Just at the right degree for a small peek at the bag however. Not hulking as they all mentioned, but they could be an accomplice.
She could already feel her blood boil, the idea of throwing the thug into the water seeming more delightful by the second. If they had to go kicking and screaming, then so be it.
Her march towards the stranger radiated unfiltered anger, she was still a teen after all. Who would blame her? She’ll chalk it up to impulse if her father questioned her on the scraps and bruises again.
The umbrella twisted, letting her get a clear view. The person had red wine colored hair, the length just above their shoulders. An expensive coat that had a web design off the shoulders, with the coat itself reaching just to their mid-thigh. Dark pants that clung to their figure and tall black boots.
Turning around, possibly at Himeko’s loud march. Her face almost made her hesitate.
Her eye color were almost fully purple, lighter in the middle, with a slightly darker shade in the rest. Like her hair almost. Not a hint of light in them however, not a dark pupil in sight. A distinctive shade of pink lipstick clinging to her lips. An absolute beauty, she may be young and irrational at times but Himeko knew what she liked.
The girl’s hand reached out, a strange purple string flowing through her fingertips. Himeko wanted to learn more, what was her name? She almost wanted to hesitate.
Key word. Almost. She’s not that easy.
Himeko was faster than whatever type of trick this was person was going to play. Her knuckles collided with a nose and lips before any first words could be slipped out.
The girl stumbled backwards, letting the umbrella clatter. Gloved hand trying to cup her face, lightless eyes widening. Himeko closely followed, her hand reaching out for the collar of the white dress shirt, the other hand winded up behind her.
Another punch landed, this time straight in the eye. Her knuckles were already starting to ache and throb. Yet a new pain echoed, a boot came up and kicked her straight in the stomach.
She tore herself off the thug, creating the distance of a few feet. The woman now had blood dripping from her nose and a small split in her lip. Yet her eyes told an entirely different story, they were filled with a mix of shock and awe. As if Himeko were a wrecking ball in this woman’s carefully laid out plans.
For a heartbeat, neither moved. Himeko could still feel the throb in her held up fist, now stained with a few droplets of blood.
The sudden smile that tore through the girl’s face made her heart falter. Damn this girl, was she insane? Standing up straighter, she dusted off specks of invisible dust from her shirt. Pulling out a small cloth to wipe her blood.
“Hand over the bag, and I won’t throw you in the river,” Himeko watched as she paused. Finally making proper eye contact, before a small snicker escaped her lips. “I mean it.”
“Can’t even treat a woman right and give your name?” she chuckled, even more at the sudden flush of red at Himeko’s face. Cleaning the final drops of red, folding the cloth in her hand.
“Himeko, hand over the bag and I won’t throw you in the river,” she repeated. Now holding out her hand, the non-bloodied one.
“Kafka.”
“Excuse me?” Himeko raised an eyebrow, already feeling her familiar rage build up. She didn’t need to play games.
“My name is Kafka—”
“Does that mean you’ll give me the bag?”
“Why do you want it so badly? Is it yours?” Kafka—supposedly, Himeko didn’t put the most faith in this woman. Kafka, glanced at the bag before looking right back at her. A small twitch coming to the corners of her lip.
“My junior’s, they said that a group of thugs stole it from them when they were trying to have fun,” Himeko stated, letting her hand drop. She kept her gaze on Kafka, while she tried to use her peripheral vision to look for another way. Maybe snatching the book bag and making a run for it could be an option. No, she’s keeping it to close to her person. “Tell me, was it you?”
Kafka let the silence hang, almost pondering whether or not to answer. “I stole it, just not from your dear juniors.” She smiled, yet the corners didn’t reach her eyes. “Just from hands that didn’t deserve it.”
“Well I do now and you don’t anymore. Hand. It. Over,” Himeko stepped closer. She needed to get back, lest she wanted her juniors to start worrying. What she didn’t expect was for this Kafka woman, with her damning eyes that she could easily get lost in, to step closer with a long stride.
Himeko could feel the tips of her ears burn and she quickly readjusted the distance. “Wh—just give me the bag! Stop making this some song and dance.”
“It’s a crime to want a dance from a pretty girl now? Though, I can play the song with my violin while you dance?” Kafka’s smile grew into a smirk, clearly indulging in the growing red from her face. It was slowly growing to a similar shade of her hair. The audacity of this girl!
Himeko screamed at herself inside, she came here to beat up a few thugs and get her juniors bag. That’s all damn it!
Kafka chuckled, “those thugs that stole this before me, are two alleys down unconscious. So drop those fists for later.” She grabbed the strap of the bag, handing it over with a sly smile.
She snatched the item back, quickly fumbling with the contents inside. The folder for Miss Dollie’s class is nestled between a few papers and a water color set. Himeko will have to give a scolding to her junior about organization. She lets out a heavy sigh, shrugging the book bag’s strap over her shoulder. “Thank you, though this interaction could have been easily over if you just handed over from the start.”
“Well, I wasn’t the one who started the interaction with punches. Plus, skip out on hearing your voice?—”
“I’m done.” Himeko deadpans, turning on her heel without a second thought. Ignoring the way her heart skipped a beat and let out a small protest. She could hear the boots on concrete thudding, catching up until they reached her side.
“Graphia Academy?” Kafka pointed to the uniform. “And you said Himeko? You wouldn’t happen to be the dean’s daughter? Hm?”
Himeko stopped dead in her tracks, turning her head to the side. Letting her jaw tense while her hand gripped tighter on the strap. “Just—what do you want?”
“One moment is all I ask,” Kafka maneuvers herself to stand in front of her. Blocking her path to the rest of Dovebrook District. Hands held up as a sign of peace. “Destiny let us meet, why not take advantage of it?”
“And what makes you think that I want to follow destiny?” Himeko grumbles.
Something shines in Kafka’s eyes, unfamiliar to Himeko. Those lifeless eyes scan her, as if she is some strange puzzle piece she wants to fit in her bigger picture. She opens her mouth, yet the sound doesn’t come from her vocals.
“There! You two!” A gruff voice comes from the side, the two alleyways down where Kafka left the earlier thugs. About half a dozen figures were striding towards their direction, clear fury written on their faces.
“May I ask for this one moment again?” Kafka’s sly voice made Himeko’s heart rush. Damn this girl.
“Fine.”
Himeko rushed forward, steering herself away from the incoming punch trying to land on her head. Letting her bruised knuckle upper cut one of the thugs in the chin.
“You dance beautifully Himeko!” Kafka shoved one of the thugs into the wall with an elegant kick. Letting his skull crack onto the bricks.
“Shut up?!” Himeko yelled out, tightening her arm around one of the men’s throat. Choosing to toss him aside in order to dodge an incoming punch.
Himeko tackled one of the thugs. He was trying to attack Kafka from behind while exchanging blows with another of them. They hit the ground hard, she scrambled upright before landing a clean punch to the man’s face. Letting her now broken knuckles absorb part of the impact.
“Thanks, you’re too good to me!”
Himeko lousily stumbled off the trembling man, she stood upright. Just in time to hear the shouting, the local police no bet. Just as she tried to glance around, her wrist was tightly grasped by another gloved hand. Pulling her away with a hard jerk. She stared at the back of a red wine head of hair, graciously dragged.
She let her legs adjust to the sudden movements before jerking her hand away. Running side by side with Kafka. Himeko easily took the lead, as a native to this planet she knew shortcuts through narrow alleyways better than wherever Kafka was born.
Strangely, she keeps quiet. The only sound letting her presence be known were her boots thudding on the ground. Her calf's were throbbing by the time both came to a stop. Stumbling to lean on a nearby wall, her chest heaving with deep breaths trying to repay the oxygen debt she owed her body.
Hiding away in a narrow alley, boxes of trash and a nearby dumpster. Kafka walks over until she’s leaning on the same wall.
“So, is the moment over?” her stupid sly voice cuts through the silence. She turns to see that same sly smile, the one that sends Himeko’s heart rattling in her ribcage as if trapped. Did she put some strange spell on her? Did those strings from that split second glance wrap around her?
“With you talking? Now it is,” Himeko readjusts the bag. Pushing herself upright, she was determined to get away from this girl before those strings tried to suffocate her. “Thank you for the bag and helping. But, Kafka?” Himeko lets the name draw out longer than it needs to be. She may never need to say it again after this. Destiny is cruel.
“Yes, Himeko?” she mimics the same action with her own name. Kafka says it so beautifully, as if the name and not the bearer is what she admires, she has to admit that.
“That’s all I need from you.” Himeko turns on her heel quickly, almost giving herself whiplash. “Destiny let us meet, then let it never make us meet again.”
She forces her feet to follow her command to walk away. Though, with the strings already set around her limbs, Himeko doesn’t make it far, only a few feet.
“You said it yourself though, Hime,” Kafka’s voice makes her stop again. The nickname is part of the reason as well. “‘And what makes you think I want to follow destiny?’”
Damn it.
Damn Kafka.
Damn the traitorous heart that screams to be let out.
“My number,” Kafka’s voice is down to a whisper, so close to her earlobe Himeko can feel her hot breath. And she is sure, her face is red as her own hair. One hand slides on her shoulder, while the other holds a piece of paper between her pointer and middle finger. A series of numbers scrawled on it. “How about we make our own destiny in between the lines?”