On The Town (DuBrow/Closed)

Anxious feet hammered against the concrete as the young Quincy woman ran through the dark. Her breath had begun to run ragged, sharp frantic breaths that left her lungs screaming for more air. She felt the weight of each step as she made her way further and further. An active mind considered the late-night transit but she didn't want to sit and wait, too anxious to stop all she could do was move and minute by minute put further distance between her and the site of her battle against the Hollow. She still held tight to the gathered spiritual energy in her hands.

All the while all she could imagine was the sight of black-clad nightmares emerging from long shadows, blade poised to cut her down. She kept playing in her head the moment of one of them realizing what she was, and then because of her carelessness history repeating itself once more. Once more they would hunt her family, all Quincy. People hidden, now in danger not because of their mistakes but her own.

It spurred her to keep moving, to keep pushing herself, faster, faster. A red-haired blur in drenched trendy clothes racing into the sections of the city more alive, more active at this time of night. It was all bright lights and alarmed voices now, people come out from the rain hours prior startled to see her pass. She had so little left to give, had pushed herself too far but kept going none the less.

A sharp sound behind her, imagined or not, caused her to turn her gaze and she peered over her shoulder in a frantic moment of ill-considered caution. She didn't expect the uneven curb, and her foot met an uneven rain-slicked surface.

At last, the unstoppable object met the immovable force. She lost her balance and with her forward momentum threw her weight forward and careened into a man towering over her and unceremoniously hit the ground and rolled briefly, catching herself only barely as the gathered spiritual energy scattered into the air invisibly, to most.

A very Welsh sounding curse in English escaped her lips as she tried to collect herself and clutched her torn elbow. A matching injury to the older one on her forehead. She peered about and waved away a few concerned but started with a jolt, realizing she had plowed into someone quickly began to speak once more in Japanese, not quite ready to get back on her face she covered her mouth and went bright red.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, are you okay?"

She was a bright-haired mess of a foreigner, rain-soaked, a serious gash on her forehead, a few scrapes on her hands, elbows, arms and legs from the fall, but far more alarmed to the man she just unceremoniously tackled.

Yup, he was lost. Kevin ought to have realized that his phone had been left on when he pocketed it after the bird’s funeral service, but he had a game to finish batting through, a stall to clean up, a pitching machine to reprogram, and a hundred thousand yen to chuck into what looked like either a tip box or a mail slot. He wasn’t really sure, but the old dude who ran the place ought to get it either way. Hopefully that would cover him for having lost his baseball spirit.

He thought there was a shrine off toward the west side of town somewhere. He’d heard about it from the taxi driver he’d paid to give him a tour of the city, but he wasn’t sure exactly where it fell since he was much more interested in scoring a burger at the time. He was regretting that now, both because the burger wasn’t nearly as good as the reviews had suggested and because he had no idea how to find a damn bell so he could do the weird talking bird right. To make matters worse, it had started to rain again. He supposed that, if he had known that he was going to be delaying his trip by an extra couple of hours, he would have picked a better time to head out.

He’d asked for directions, or at least he’d tried to. The couple running the convenience store he had bought his umbrella in hadn’t been much help as far as directions were concerned. They’d looked at him strangely the second he stepped into their small shop, probably because he walked in late at night with a large wooden bat slung over his shoulder. The situation had only escalated after he set his duffel bag on the countertop to show them that he was just heading back from batting practice.

The owner was nice enough after he had finally explained that he wasn’t in fact robbing the shop, though his wife still wanted Kevin out as soon as possible. It was thus that, with his bat swapped for his glove so he wouldn’t scare any more skittish townsfolk but so he could still protect himself if any pissed off birds chased after him, Kevin left.

Thankfully, he soon realized that he wasn’t alone. Standing at the top of a hill and looking around for the shrine to as best he could through the rainy darkness, he could see, a few blocks away, a tiny flare up of spiritual energy. With an eager spring in his step, he figured that he had located the shrine maiden, if those people actually existed. He figured they had to. The TV wouldn’t lie about that kind of stuff.

It wasn’t hard to track the source of the energy. Whoever it was seemed to be quite excited. Maybe the shrine maiden had heard he was coming and was eager for someone to ring the bell. It had been a crappy day, so bell ringers were probably pretty sparse. It wasn’t long before he could hear the footsteps approaching. Not wanting to collide with the shrine maiden, he shifted his posture around on, trying different poses on the sidewalk before finally deciding on a cocksure lean to the side with his mitt hand pressed up against his hip.

What happened next was not close to what he had expected. Thankfully, he had somewhat braced himself against the inadvertent tackle, so he wasn’t sent flying onto his butt. A light stagger backwards into a light pole was unavoidable, but he managed to escape that without banging himself or the umbrella up too severely.

Once Kevin fully reset his footing, he turned to see the person who had collided with him. She was undoubtedly the source of the energy he had spotted, but that was about all that he had gotten right in his guesswork. He was right about it being a small girl, but this one didn’t look at all like what he expected a shrine maiden to look like. Whatever she said when they collided wasn’t Japanese either. It didn’t sound anything like a normal person’s English, but it certainly wasn’t Japanese. She also looked like she’d been beat up something fierce, though it was hard to tell what was blood and what was dirt from her fall.

Moving quickly, he slid his glove under his armpit and withdrew his hand, extending it for her to take in order to help get back on her feet. ”Oh shit. My bad,” he said in English before switching to Japanese, his bland middle America accent allowing him to clearly enunciate his words in the most sterile fashion possible. “I’m fine. I didn’t mean to scare you there.”

"No no, you didn't, I'm sorry I hit you I was just in a hurry, ow ow ow," she muttered and winced as she tried to pull herself to her feet but found a struggle. Still out of breath and exhausted her muscles just refused the effort of getting up. There was also a sharp pain in her ankle, she suspected sprain and the flare of pain on her palms suggested she really just beefed it, hard.

"Really sorry about that, I didn't mean to I swear," she repeated further apologies before blinking and looking up at the figure she encountered.

A tall brown-haired broad-shouldered American man stared down at her, hand extended. She stared at it for a moment before taking it with her left. Hauled up shakily she staggered once when she got on her feet, legs wavering for a moment before catching herself on her arm. "I think I overdid it..." She hesitated for a moment then let go of him, looking back over her shoulder uncertainly.

She stared into the dark for the moment attempting to dispel the unshakeable feeling that she was about to see the glint of a blade emerged and drive straight for her but there was nothing but the street. She turned back to the man and was all smiles. She gave a polite little bow of her head, "Thank you for helping me up. I guess even at top speeds I wouldn't be able to do much to someone like you," she said and let out a little laugh before looking a bit more seriously.

"You are fine right?" She asked, peering at him suspiciously.

He helped her to her feet as gently as he could, worried that a tug could well dislocate her shoulder. Safely removed from the moment of impact, he could finally assess her condition some as she got back up to her feet, and she did not look good. He’d seen his fair share of scrapes from collisions in his time playing in the states, and there was no way she could have gotten this hurt from just running into him.

”If you’d have gone for my legs, I’m sure I’d be in a fair bit of worse shape. I’m more worried about you, missy,” he said anxiously, his eyes jumping and lingering on the massive cut on her forehead before drifting down to catch her gaze. She didn’t look concussed, at least not severely so. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry in these situations, especially if he was the one who had caused it.

”Where’re you trying to get to so fast? I can call you a ride if you’d like It’s not really a good time to be out running around,“ he offers, remembering two key facts as he finishes speaking. His phone was dead because of the crow funeral. Second, she had a goddamn spiritual aura, which meant she could probably see the same freaky shit he did. Could this have been the crows striking her in anger over what he did? There had been some energy in her hands before hand that was similar if not the same as what he could pull up. Had she managed to fight them off, or were they still coming?

His eyes flashed wide as he realized the two important truths. Worse, he’d probably just sprained her ankle by sticking his legs out in a bold power stance, so the odds of her continuing to run from whatever had her so spooked were next to nothing. It must have been the birds! He was glad for the chance at a double header, but more than a little pissed that they’d decided to hurt someone else. Sliding his glove back on, he punched his free hand into it, faint blue particles of spiritual energy beginning to form as he started cooking up a heater. ”How many crows are there?” he asked bluntly as he started to scan the skies.

She let out another little laugh. "Well, I'm glad my aim was off then. And no need, no need I'm..." she paused appraising herself, leaning the weight off her right foot, spots of blood here and there and oh right. She reflexively raised a hand much too late to cover the wound on her forehead but didn't really break stride. "Fine, really. Much tougher than I look, the other guy got it worse," she gave a little toothy grin as she lied. Well, part lied. That Hollow definitely got it worse, it was the second one she failed to snag.

She tested weight on her foot and suppressed a hiss. Likely not even from the impact or fall but how hard she wrenched it right before. I can fight giant monsters, summon magic bows of energy but I'm still a klutz. She'd be okay to walk on it, at least back to her apartment even if it was a way off.

She paused to study him for a moment as he made his offer and wagered the risks. He seemed nice enough but well, that was the kind of person she was warned most strongly about. Still, there was something about his nature that she just couldn't quite put her finger on, something familiar. "That's very kind but- eh?" She stared at his face as his eyes widened.

"What is...it...?" She began pausing as she quickly looked over her shoulder again and once more saw nothing. She turned back to see him sliding the glove on and watched as he began gathering spiritual particles.

Quincy? He was a Quincy!? What the hell was another Quincy doing here! And American! In broad daylight? Er nightlight!

"Crows? What do you mean crows?!" she asked, frantically moving to hop up and swat the gathering spiritual particles away. "Stop that!" she warned. "They'll be able to pick us up if you do that!" She wasn't entirely sure what Shinigami could track, but that seemed like a pretty dead give away.

"You're," she paused for a moment uncertain if she dares ask. "A Quincy?" she asked finally.

She didn’t look good, not at all. He’d seen enough people trying to walk off injuries that should have agitated them only for a game but instead took them out for a week. If she had to push herself, Kevin had no doubts that she would end up much more seriously injuring something. He could probably carry her, assuming she was up to directing him. He still wanted to hit up that shrine, but that could wait until tomorrow when he actually could figure out where the damn thing was hiding.

”Mmm hmm,” he hummed in affirmation of her questioning his status as a Quincy as he pulled his pitching hand free from the glove and let the gathering particles freely dissipate at her insistence. He didn’t feel sure it was a safe move, but she seemed liable to hurt herself again with how much movement she was putting in and that was the last thing she needed. His eyes continued to scan the area for a while, making sure none of the things that were scaring her were present before he finally relaxed slightly and turned his attention back to her. ”The name’s DuBrow, Kevin DuBrow. I pissed off a whole bunch of Japanese baseball spirits earlier today. They’re like little crows, and I’m pretty sure I killed their leader. I thought, with your cuts, that they’d gotten to you.”

Upon closer inspection, her injuries were a little too severe to have been caused by the crows. While he didn’t doubt that they could kill someone if they were dedicated enough, the gash on her forehead would have had raking talons like the bird’s foot left on the pitching machine, not a singular cut. Shrugging it off as she had claimed to have dealt with whatever had caused that injury, he shifted his focus back to the here and now. ”If it’s not the crows that have you so worked up, who are the *they*, then? I ought to be able to take ‘em so long as you stick behind me and watch my back.”

She let out a relieved sigh as he confirmed that he was indeed a Quincy, or at least familiar with the term and reflected a moment later how risky it was to say out loud. Still, there was nothing poised to kill them, no Shinigami lurking in the shadows. She was being paranoid...probably? She leaned back again and stopped hopping around on one foot swatting at him as he dissipated the spiritual particles. In truth, it was unlikely to see a Shinigami show up, right?

She'd been hunting off and on for years, and Hollow sightings were rare and she'd never even met one of the Shinigami before so the paranoia was only loosely based in the concern that the longer she lingered on the scene the more likely she was to encounter them, but what did she really know? Did they even exist? Did they operate here? Still, she trusted her family's wisdom in such matters.

She turned her attention to him as he turned to her. "Meridith Sheppard, a pleasure, Mr. DuBrow," she said with a very subdued flourish, careful not to put any weight on her foot. The introduction parsed fine but the rest of the nonsense about...

"Baseball...spirits?" She asked uncertainly, was he joking? Or, well. Hm. He was certainly a Quincy, she could tell me the way he gathered Reishi in the palm of his glove but even that in and of itself was unusual. She began to work her way through it. She knew there were many other Quincy across the globe, her family maintained contact with a loose network of relatives all throughout the 'United' Kingdoms. Each of them told of others across the world. While they had maintained the traditions strongly in secret who knew what the other families wound up with? It had been a millennia after all. How could she even be certain that her family's interpretation was correct?

Well, at least in this case she was certain of her interpretation because he was calling them 'baseball spirits'. She supposed his cross would be...the glove. Of course. She exhaled in relief as things fell into place and the natural giddiness of encountering another Quincy took its place.

"They...they. Well, first, that Crow, the spirits, did they have a big hole somewhere? Usually over their chest?" She gestured. "And a mask of sorts? We call those Hollow. One of those gave this to me," she gestured at the gash and let out a little hiss as she touched it. She really needed to take care of it. "As for what I'm running from, well. Mr. DuBrow, what do you know about the Shinigami?" Her tone took a dark and serious tone towards the end as she uttered the name of the black-cloaked murderers.

”The fascist ghost ninja dudes? Never met one, though I’ve been itching to see if I can beat one of their swords in the batter’s box from what my mom told me about them. I figure they’re pretty shit at their jobs as long as there are Hollows running around on earth, though,” he said what a nonchalant shrug, ”I mean, take the Crow I killed. I dunno if it was a Hollow. It had a hole, a kinda fucky face, three legs with nasty looking claws, but it was maybe the size of a basketball. I was definitely thinking more of that three eyed fucker from Game of Thrones than an undead monster. Hollows are supposed to be big ass house smashing dickbags, right? This one just flew down from where a bunch of other birds were perched, started talking to me like a parrot, and then tried to fuck with my glove. I think it might have picked up on the cross sewn in there with some kind of magic spirit sight and wanted to haul it back to its nest.”

It was a reasonable explanation as far as he was concerned. There was no way that a Hollow could be that small. How would it even eat someone? He suspected that if all of them acted at once they could bring somebody down, but his grandpa had made him watch The Birds by Hitchcock, and those things were about the most useless killing machines he could think of. Three people died in that whole movie and only one of them was really because of the birds, and that was an old dude in his bed. Not exactly nightmare fuel on the gore, there. They were creepy fuckers to be sure, but the one that came after looked fragile enough that a normal person with a stick might be able to take it out so long as they could connect.

As for the Shinigami, as far as Kevin was concerned, it had been a long ass time since they killed off his ancestors. While the guys who did that deserved to pay for what they did if they were still around, they were also talking about essentially ancient history. To Kevin, his hatred of them was much more akin to what he felt toward a rival sports team than what his elders had tried to instill in him, probably a consequence of him starting his training well outside of the normal years when you want to be indoctrinating a child. He did want to face off against them and see who would win in that matchup. That would have to wait, though. While he was excited at the prospects of competition, he couldn’t ignore the injured girl in order to chase down a fight. That would be a total dick move.


”Forget the bird for now,” he said, rolling his shoulder and adjusting the duffel bag he had resting on it so it was slung around his back instead of at his side, ”We should get you out of here, especially if there are other things lurking about. Can you still walk, or should I carry you?”

Meridith stared in surprise at Kevin's sudden and abrupt vulgarities, although she was wholeheartedly in favour of what he was saying and in fact, for once enjoyed the idea of complaining about them without any sort of restraint! But whenever they got brought up, her parents were rather stoic about the whole thing. Still, this level of vulgarity in any language was, a lot! Her cheeks went a bit red and she just nodded along. She managed a non-commital, 'Oh I haven't seen it' and thought about his words a moment longer.

If Shinigami were unable to stop the Hollow then either they were unable or unwilling. The fact they had the power to kill her kind like they did suggest they didn't lack for power, but still they hadn't gotten them all. It impressed upon her the idea of a massive power structure, half-blind but ever-present. They presided over a world they couldn't truly protect and hunted those who tried to fill the gaps.

She exhaled slowly and nodded. "Sounds like a Hollow. They come in all shapes and sizes, I just encountered what seemed like a jungle cat of some kind." Well, it seemed like he knew the term at least, she was worried she'd have to refer to them as Baseball Spirits. That still begged the question but she'd have to ask at another time.

"Oh! You sewed it into the glove, I thought it was the glove itself..." Somehow she felt a bit silly which felt ridiculous comparatively. "A Crow-like Hollow hunting spiritual baubles...what is with this town," she said mostly to herself.

She nodded, the Crow was the least of her concern right now. She had considered weighing her options. Her first instinct was to wave him off. She'd probably be fine, her foot would making walking hard, not impossible and this was the modern era, she could snatch a cab or...something. But, this was another Quincy, similarily operating here in the same neck of the woods. Auspicious was way too small a word.

"My foot seems er," the next word sounded completely foreign from her, "Fucked up. If it's close I can probably hobble fine, but otherwise. Well, if you don't mind." She added a moment after. "Certainly, I can definitely take care of myself so please don't be obligated. It looks a lot worse than it is," she offered paying lip service to turning his offer of help down. "Someplace with a mirror and hot water is all I really need."

This Meredith Sheppard was a cutie, Kevin decided. She was way too fucking young for him to even think of trying anything and the blood was not a pretty sight, but her attempts at modesty and the way she flushed when he swore despite being in a high pressure situation brought back fond memories of playing pranks on the nervous media interns covering his team. Try as he might to keep the seriousness and danger of the situation at the forefront of his mind, he found himself incapable of suppressing a slight nostalgic smile as she talked about his glove and the weirdness of the town.

He pushed his passive amusement aside, waving a hand dismissively as she implied he might mind carrying her. ”Don’t sweat it. You can ride on my back and keep an eye out. If anything pops up, be my turret at them and I’ll keep on booking it. I stopped by a convenience store a few blocks back before I spotted your energy. The owner’s wife was a little pissy, but it was a clean place and we should be able to get you taken care of while we wait for a ride,” he offered, kneeling down slightly to let her climb aboard. He was sure she’d raise an objection to Kevin coming back into her store, but he was about as certain she wouldn’t actually do anything to stop them, especially if she saw the extent of Meredith’s injuries.

The thought that the bird was a Hollow made some sense, but it also didn’t match up with what he’d been told by his family. They were supposed to be big evil monsters that killed and ate people, and that was a little tiny bird that was almost friendly until it flipped it shit on him. Sure, it did go nuts and attack him, but he had been more than a little threatening toward it. Had he just murdered a ghost baby? Hollow or no, he was definitely going to have to do something to make penance for that. At least now it wasn’t in a place to hurt anyone else, though he felt uneasy about that as the memory of the rest of the flock pushed its way into his mind. They needed to get indoors, and soon. The last thing he wanted now was for the horde of birds to descend upon the two of them hungry for vengeance for their fallen comrade.

She let out a little sigh as if to suggest 'of all the indignities!' But in truth, the prospect of a piggyback ride was at least a little bit fun. "Well, I was thinking a bar but I doubt they'd even let me in," she let out another huff and nodded. "Okay okay, let me know if I'm too heavy, I can walk at least part of it," she said, ridiculously, before moving to climb on to his back.

"I'll explain it to them," she said. For whatever reason most people didn't seem very suspicious of her. For what reason, who could say. "What exactly bothered them? Thinking you entering with me looking like this they might wind up calling the police before we get a chance," she said. It was why she was skirting going to a clinic or hospital beyond the fact that she was more than capable of treating the little scrapes and bruises. She didn't want to get noticed, not by mysterious powers that be, not by local authorities, and certainly not by her family most of all.

She held on tight. "Okay all set, um, thank you. For helping me I mean." She realized how terrified the prospect of being utterly alone was only due to the sense of peace she had found by finding another person like her. She might have been unwilling to look at the grave nature of her being injured like this after having just encountered two Hollow but that was only due to her efforts to maintain optimism. The reality, one that was dawning on her now, was just how much trouble she was in if it hadn't been for him.

”Think nothing of it,” he said as he effortlessly carried her on his back, ”I used to play pro ball back in the states. If you were carrying a few fifty pound weights, you might be able to match one of my workouts. Besides, I’d be a pretty shit-tier Quincy if I didn’t help, especially if I poked the Hollow hornet nest with that bird and that’s what got you into the shape you’re in.”

He kept a brisk pace just short of a jog, not wanting to jostle her too much lest he injure her any further. Though he was focused on getting her to safety, something about the situation just felt inherently right. He’d been trained solo, sent out into the world solo, and had no reason to expect he’d be able to find any other Quincy out in the world. As a man who had spent his life up to the time of his induction into this secret world as part of a team, the solitude had been an uncomfortable reality to live in.

Maybe, once she was fully mended, they could see how their skills paired. The idea of picking off a Hollow she scared into running from its safe hiding place was all kinds of tempting and presented a new level of challenge that he hadn’t considered. It might make things easier for them against the Hollow, but it opened up the possibility of being able to compete against her. There are few things quite as fun as a good old fashioned pitcher’s duel, and the thought of being able to compare his stats after a night out to see who came out on top stirred his competitor’s soul.

He was getting ahead of himself mentally, though. Putting aside blossoming thoughts of some kind of Quincy baseball team, Kevin focused back on the here and now. If she was willing to talk to the owner’s wife, it was probably best she know more of where that irritation had come from. He felt his face flushing slightly as he spoke, a little embarrassed by the misunderstanding, though if anyone asked he’d surely chalk it up to the exercise instead of any actual mistakes on his part. ”As for why she had a stick up her ass, something about a giant foreigner trying to rob us with a club,” he said in a mimicry of the woman’s voice, ”It took some time to calm them down and explain that I’d just been doing a bit of batting practice. It’s probably easier to get you in there than a bar even with that. What’s the drinking age in this country, anyway?”

She held on as they made their way, doing her best to avoid putting too much or too little weight on her ankle which had eased into a dull throb. She also realized how tricky it was to avoid getting water and her blood on him which she was torn between bringing up to warn him and knowing he'd just shrug it off.

The relative peace of the journey had a secondary effect of making her want to fall asleep. She shivered and did her best to avoid shivering in the cool night. She was immediately grateful not to be alone but also tried to keep in mind that he was more or less a stranger, but there was something about his forthright nature that put her at ease. Americans.

"Twenty," she said with the unconscious ease of someone who realized it was a little suspect she had that information so readily available. She was quick to add, "I don't wanna speak for them, but seeing you enter with a big bat is definitely something I'd have been a bit leery about," she laughed. "I think it'll be fine, er, probably. I imagine it might even work in our favour. They're probably embarrassed about the misunderstanding." Or, at least, she'd bring it up in such a way that they'd be inclined to be embarrassed. Games like these were just day to day stuff at home. Guilt was the defacto weapon in her arsenal of youthful independence. Er. That and skullduggery.

He chuckled to himself at her response. They probably were embarrassed, but he could easily see that embarrassment turning into something else when the man they thought was robbing them came in with a battered and beaten little girl. Still, it wasn’t like she was going to go screaming to the counter about the violent American who beat her up. ”I suppose you’re right. The Japanese have some goofy ass customs. My family was a shoes-off family, so I thought I’d be covered on that, but I was nearly thrown out of this one traditional restaurant I went to because I kept them on. I didn’t think they’d do that much damage to the tatami mats. They have sumo wrestlers and they have to weigh more than me!” he insisted.

A nice big American athlete style tip had helped smooth things over there, thankfully. He had no idea how much those mats cost, but they couldn’t have been that expensive. It didn’t stop this town or the country from being weird, though. There were plenty of times he wanted to load back on an airplane and do some Quincying in the states, but they told him that this would be a good place to hone his skills, and Kevin wasn’t about to pass that opportunity up.

Arriving at the convenience store, he gently let Meridith back down. ”Here ya go, wouldn’t want you banging your head on the doorframe going in,” he explained as he gently opened the door for her to enter first so the owner and his wife wouldn’t see him right away. He could have beaten that broom she had in her hands when he left with a quick counter-swing, but he wasn’t much feeling like smashing up a poor convenience store then and he especially wasn’t now.

"Oh come now, Mr. DuBrow. It's customary across the world to follow the customs of the place your in when you're a guest, is it not? Surely that's true of your home as well?" She scolded gently. "I admit this place is very strange, but I've found it all to be a refreshing alternative to home." She raised a hand off his shoulder to a level near his head and added, "Though I suppose we may have a different perspective," as she lowered the hand to her own head.

Japan to her had been exactly what she needed, a very 'not home' experience and a very 'not home' environment. All the sights, sounds, and people were very much 'not home'.

She dropped off his back when lowered, landing gently on her good leg and patted his back, perhaps not unlike one might a gallant steed but surely no consciously. "I'll wave you in once I've mollified them," she said as she moved around him towards the door. She was torn between the ol' wince n'hobble and the ol' hopalong and settled for the former, managing a slow perhaps, pessimistically, pitiable march to the entrance. She pulled open the door to a ring of a bell and made a slow tour of the shelves gathering what she needed.

She had a first aid kit with her in her bag, but in the panic, she had abandoned it. It wasn't much, and she didn't really need much but a few odds and ends. She snatched a packaged roll of sterile gauze, some paper towel and a sewing kit and after spying an employee bathroom in the corner made her way to the front where she addressed the confused, concerned looks with a warm smile. They'd certainly been suspicious of her in the reflections of the mirror but seeing her current state up close was enough to win the desired effect.

As she paid she explained how she had an accident on her bike and oh can I clean up in the bathroom and no no, she was fine, and oh her 'friend' brought her here but he was worried they might think he was trying to rob the place because of his bat so he was waiting outside and oh it was fine oh thank you so so much.

She appeared at the door and waved Kevin in before moving back to the bathroom to begin running some hot water and filling the sink. Her first effort was in assessment, cleaning up the blood from her scrapes and particularly her face so she looked less like a murder victim or serial killer. Thankfully the rain did most of the job, which she gratefully credited with the fact that the police weren't called on sight.

He supposed the country did have its charms, he just wished that their habits made more sense. In America, nobody expected you to take your shoes off at a restaurant. He was pretty sure there were health codes explicitly prohibiting that. Who wanted to have a bunch of nasty stinky feet near their food? Then again, he’d seen what some of their artists had done with tentacles. A little weird ass feet stuff was tame compared to that shit. Thankfully, Kevin knew enough to not voice that around the young girl. It might be fun to make her blush, but there were lines he wasn’t willing to cross for the sake of a joke.

It was thus that Kevin waited outside, squatting down awkwardly and peering in through the window so that just the top of his head and eyes were visible as Meridith made her way through the aisles, occasionally running his eyes to the front of the store to watch the old woman and make sure she didn’t try to thwack the young Quincy with her broom. For all Kevin knew, that woman was spiritually sensitive. Maybe that’s why she got so pissed off at him! Had he just sent her into the mouth of the dragon unknowingly?

He hesitated, thinking to walk in boldly, but realized the foolishness of his plan, grumbling under his breath in English irritably as he watched her move about the store and finally talk to the woman at the front. He remained hidden until she pointed over toward him, at which time he shot up from under the window and gave a broad smile and a reassuring wave.

He could make out a squinting look, possibly even a sneer, on the woman’s face, but she didn’t seem to be telling Meridith off, so he was all too happy to turn and head toward the door, completely ignoring the handful of passers-by who had stopped to look at the strange American peering into the shop with a large duffel bag. He entered, following her toward the back and giving a smile and a nod to the shopkeeper couple.

”You sure you don’t need any help with that? he asked as they got into the bathroom and he closed the door, ”I’ve had some experience with sports medicine. It’s nothing much, but I know how to do some basic first aid, and I know how hard it can be to do it to yourself.”

She stared into the mirror for a long moment as steam from hot water began to rise through the air below. She studied the familiar face, hand tracing along with the nick and bruises. She studied the injury, the tear in her forehead just above her eye which continued bleed, worsened when she irritated it. She placed her hands flat on the edge of the sink and craned her neck, glancing down at the grime and for a moment felt the fatigue melt away. Focus on the task at hand step by step.

She had addressed the nicks and scratches, most with little more than some cleaning with soap and water and a band-aid for good measure. Her ankle could use ice, but that'd have to regrettably wait. Maybe she could buy some frozen peas on her way out? Within a few moments, the garbage was half-full with bloody paper towels, and the sink had a decidedly crimson hue, it all looked worse than it was.

She spared a glance and a half-smile in Kevin's direction as he entered and shut the door. It was a small room, spartan and functional which made sense since she assumed this mom and pop store, in a literal sense and employees were small in number to begin with. She leaned out of his way to let him occupy the unoccupied space and then fetched the sewing kit.

"It's okay," she said as she gently opened the packaging and tossed most of its contents in the garbage, leaving her solely with the needle. She poked it gently with her index finger and withdrew it without drawing blood but nodded. It would do. "This isn't the first time I've done this. Family of doctors, plus, you know, the whole Quincy thing."

She took a glance over towards the door and leaned over to lock it. She took a firm look in the mirror and leaned forward focusing intently on the gash. She held the needle tight, without thread and carefully, with a hand that looked utterly steady began to pierce through to stitch the injury closed.

As she did a very faint soft blue glow appeared at the end of the needle. She gathered reishi to form the thread and used it to knit the wound closed. She flinched once, steadying herself for a moment before resuming the task with a steady hand aside from the occasional wince. It didn't take her long. The use of reishi in medical practice was a specialty of her family, one which they used only rarely in the real world. She was happy to keep the practice alive.

After spending a moment appraising it, her expression still flat she suddenly smiled and turned to face Kevin before asking, "How's it look? Mind helping me bandage it?" She handed him the gauze.

Quietly, he watched her work, wanting to help but respecting her wishes. They had just met, after all. He could be some sort of devious Shinigami plan to lure her away to a quiet place and then do whatever ninjas would do to her. He hoped they wouldn’t do that if he did run into them, but it did seem like the sort of thing evil ghosts would do even if they weren’t ninjas on top of it.

Leaning up against the wall and watching, he began to seriously question her medical knowledge when he saw her poke her uninjured finger with the needle. That on top of her remark about the Quincy thing. Was getting beat up like this normal for Quincy? He’d never seen his mom coming home hacked up, though she had managed to keep that aspect of her life hidden from him until she was in her 60’s. She kept it secret for a good reason, but he’d made her promise there were no more secrets after that came out. It didn’t make him feel right not being able to trust her, and he was pleased when she told him that his heritage was the only thing she’d lied to him about.

His trepidation was assuaged as he saw her make a magical energy thread and start to weave it over her wound. He’d seen similar techniques used, albeit beneath the surface of the body, when they had to patch him up after his career ending injury. What did she say her surname was again? Sheppard? That didn’t sound German, but whatever she said in her accent earlier sure as hell did.

”Sure thing,” he said, taking the gauze and setting to work with the roll. Measuring out a piece to cover up the wound, he tore it, placed a protective bandage overtop, and then affixed some medical tape to the sides. Careful to avoid disturbing the cut, he slipped it on and then pressed the tape down in order to avoid getting any of her hair caught in it. ”Been a long time since I’ve seen someone pull that off,” he casually said as he made sure that it was firmly affixed, ”Baseball career got cut short by an injury, but some of my mom’s people were able to fix me up good as new with something like what you did there. Where’d you learn how to do it, if you don't mind me asking?”

She leaned and held stock still as he applies the gauze and tied it off. She turned after he did and faced the mirror, emptying and cleaning the sink as she examined it, nodding approvingly. Once the sink was cleaned up she smiled.

She was still a collection of cuts and scrapes and looked perhaps like an escaped patient of the trauma unit but definitely a big improvement over before. A bandage over her forehead and a collection of a half dozen or so across her arms and legs. She turned to face Kevin as he spoke gave him a curious look.

"Oh?" It was by no means some complex technique but it gave her a better impression that the art of Quincy was not so diverged. "It's a pretty easy thing to do. Truthfully, if you already know how to control reishi, learning how to suture is harder. Needs a very steady hand," she said with a little hint of her latent pride peeking into her tone.

She spared a glanced towards the duffle and glove and bat and wondered how cut short his career must have been. Did he just recreationally have baseball stuff with him at all times? She nodded along, "I've seen some pretty incredible things. My family is mostly in medicine, and with the whole Quincy thing it's become something of a specialty. My father taught me that trick in particular. I've got some others but I'm not nearly so good as them," she said.

"Little cuts and scraps, wounded stuffed animals, that kind stuff," she said.

She leaned over to wash her hands and dried them off with the remaining paper towel. "We should hurry out because I think they're definitely going to call the cops if we linger," she said. "She really doesn't like you."

Meridith grinned and unlocked the door, pivoting on her one good foot and took a moment to ready herself. "Mind helping me out?" She asked, and if offered would lean her weight on him to hobble out. Across the small store, it would be an assortment of oh no no no, I'm fine. Thank you so much for your help, really, it was just some scrapes. Yes of course, we'll be at a clinic first thing. Thanks, have a good night! Until finally, they were outside in the cool night air once more.

"So, fellow Quincy. This has been fun, but I need a change of clothes and a good twelve-hour nap. You have a phone number, I hope?"

He nodded with her work, content with how cleaned up she’d managed to get herself. He’d been taught to see the energy they could wield as a weapon and just taken it as such, despite having been the recipient of the same sort of magical healing. His had been at the hands of trained professionals in white coats, surgical masks, and all kinds of medical equipment. She did this in a convenience store bathroom with a needle. It wasn’t until he actually saw this and how powerful the effect was that it really clicked to him the kinds of talents other Quincy might have.

He nodded when she reminded him of the need to hurry up, choosing not to open his mouth for fear of reminding the woman that he existed. He had a strong suspicion she was sitting right on the other side of the door listening in. Instead, he served as her crutch, supporting the smaller Meridith both physically and socially by adding his own nods and assurances. After catching a contemptuous glare from the woman, he shifted to her husband and had a smidge more luck in his efforts.

”I do, but my phone’s dead,” he said, more than a little embarrassed at the admission, ”So I can’t just do the thing where I text you a message and you get my number from that. Oh, actually, if you’re going to be calling a ride, would you mind sharing one? Can’t really call anyone with no phone and those two aren’t going to let me borrow theirs. The place I’m staying at shouldn’t be that far from here, either. Plus, it’d make me feel better to see that you got back safe.”

She was unhooked and freed from him and took a few careful steps to the side. She let out a sigh. Of course, his phone wasn't charged!

She wanted to reach out and just grab his face. Who didn't meticulously charge their phone every night? This was the modern era! Still, that would be fine, it was fine. She glanced towards a streetlight and pondered for a moment about the plan.

"We can share one, but your stop first. You understand," she said before wheeling about to look at him. "Besides, it's closer anyway." She trusted him, but common sense dictated not letting strange men know where you sleep even if they were cute and a member of the same mysterious underground organization of whom you quietly suspected your family was one of the last members of.

"That should give you enough time to suss out if the driver can be trusted," not that a mortal man was really all that much of a threat to her. Thankfully, she hadn't ever had to prove that. "I'll get you my number before you step out. I'm sure the driver will have a pen or something. Unless you had the good fortune to mem-" She looked past him suddenly and hobbled forward, waving her hand to get the attention of a driver pulling down the street. Yellow car, orange stripe down the middle. Fortunately for them, it wasn't occupied.

It pulled up alongside and she turned back to him. "Any complaint? I'll cover the fare, least I can do-er. Wait I lost my bag that's right. Er." She looked frantic for a moment. She could probably talk her way into a ride home with her appearance, but not for Mr. DuBrow as well.

”Don’t sweat it,” Kevin said, producing his wallet and handing her enough money to pay the driver for 20 trips, ”You can pay me back any time, but this is really the least I can do.”

With that settled, he hopped in and warmly greeted the cab driver in English. ”Hello there, chief!” he said loudly, having found that this always helped to make introducing himself to the Japanese go smoother. If they were going to stereotype them, he might as well lean in to that and embrace the fun parts. It hadn’t worked on the shop owners, but this cab driver was a man of the people, not some hoity-toity business owner.

He reached across and opened the door for his injured companion, buckling his seat up and giving his address using his not-that-great Japanese to reassure the cabbie before turning back to Meridith. ”You can just text me and then I’ll text you back once I’m charged back up. We’re making this all too complicated if we’re gonna be jacking his pen.” After waiting for her to pull her phone out, he carefully read out his phone number, peeking over at the screen to make sure she was entering it right.

She sighed in relief, indifferent to the generosity but appreciate the gesture. She'd pay him back, of course, no sense complicating it was unnecessary oh no no no after you please I insist's. The whole idea of politely refusing generosity always struck her as a bit of unnecessary bureaucracy to kindness. "Thank you," she said taking it and folding it up before stowing it in a previously sewn shut faux pocket.

She hobbled over to the door and nodded appreciatively as it swung open for her and settled in. She leaned back against the headrest. The cab was warm, like the store and it helped ease her shivers as she buckled in. She smiled at the cab, "Long night," when they looked at her concerned and looked over to Kevin.

"Oh in truth, I guess I just assumed you didn't know your phone number off by heart," she laughed gently, fatigue evident on her from the moment she said down and fished about in her pockets for the phone, ignoring a plethora of unpleasant notifications as she took the complicate motions of getting to an all too sparse contacts screen.

The cab started off making its way down the quiet street light and moonlit roads towards Kevin's place. She nodded diligently and copied it down. She also held up the phone suspiciously before snapping a pic of him, a surreptitious habit of hers to fill her contact book whenever she added someone new. She liked candid photos.

"All set," she said and turned the phone towards him so he could confirm the details and see the picture. She was no shutterbug, and the lighting was poor but she thought it a good one.

She leaned her head back again as she did and instantly had to fight the urge to doze.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the photo she’d snagged. It was taken as he was deep in thought. As luck would have it, Kevin’s ‘deep in thought’ face made him look, at best, severely concussed. His lips were slightly open, one eye was squinted enough to obscure the pupil, and the other eye was angled off to the upper right. Still, she had gotten it from a good angle and with acceptable enough lighting, at least, so he didn’t have an otherwise non-existent double chin.

He nodded and watched the message send, forgetting for a moment that it wasn’t going to resolve on his phone due to it being out of power. Leaning back some himself, he let out a sign. ”I hear you on the long night. Are yours normally like this, or is this an abnormality? I gotta say, I haven’t had one that came anywhere close to tonight before.”

It was the truth. For all the horror stories he’d heard in his training, he’d never once had one of the negative or traumatic experiences so common to others who were touched by the spiritual. His parents were both alive, albeit a little old. He’d never really struggled financially. No monsters had ever attacked him or his friends. He hardly even had nightmares growing up unless he’d been allowed to watch a horror movie before bed, and those stopped by the time he finished 7th grade. The biggest problems he faced were professionally, and he still always had a team to play for.

Was his life going to be more of this now? It hadn’t been that way when he was training, but he’d been in sports long enough to know that training never matches up to the real deal. He’d been surrounded by more capable Quincy with a lifetime of experience. For all he knew, there had been Hollow attacks on the compound he’d been at and he just never found out about them.

Whatever the case, they seemed relatively safe now. There weren’t any nasty creatures inside the car from as far as he could tell, and the shadows outside didn’t appear to hide any secret ninjas. Content to finally disarm himself, he slipped his hand free of the glove and gave it a stretch before wiping the built up sweat off on his pant leg.

She laid there, eyes shut, occasionally lit by passing lights as the cab drove down the, by now, sleepy town. She enjoyed the gentle motion of the car and did her best to avoid drifting, but, with eyes shut it was almost entirely inevitable.

His voice pulled her back, not with a start but with a coy smile. She gave him a gentle shrug. She spoke low. "I've really only fought something like five Hollows in my life. The first was accidental off at boarding school. The second was because I went looking for trouble. The other three have been here in Japan within the last few months. And yes, they're all like this. A lot of running, a lot of panic and terror. Occasionally, getting hurt but not always, not often. But always life and death."

She recalled the moments in her head, replayed them. It was happenstance she encountered that first monster, but it set her on this path unerringly. She was Quincy. She was the hunter and the Hollow her prey but she was definitely okay with less close calls like this.

She leaned her head back, but her eyes open now, she glanced out the window to the blur of trees and buildings and empty streets.

"Was that your first Hollow encounter? With the Crow?" She looked over to him, curiosity plain on her face but she didn't wait for an answer. "It's likely not to be your last. I don't know what's going on in this town but it's drawing Hollow here like nothing else, might be wise to get out of here..." She trailed off for a moment before looking at him more seriously.

"But maybe I shouldn't assume, what do you intend to do, Mr. DuBrow?"