[ By all means, Haruhi shouldn't be the one who sticks out the most right now. Souper Noodle is a veritable hole in the wall stuffed at the end of a dingy alleyway in downtown Shibuya. It's arguably one of the ward's seediest zones. Roughnecks and other ne'er-do-well looking types loiter about...
And yet, it's our good doctor who's garnering the most side eyes what with how she's planted herself directly in front of the establishment and muttering like a woman possessed by the spirit of spite.
Luckily (or unluckily), she won't have to stew for long. Double doors (that look brand new compared to the dilapidated state of the rest of the shops) fly open as a giant taller than the doorway and nearly as wide lumbers out and cranes his neck nearly ninety degrees in the direction of down to glower at Haruhi.
He opens his big mouth, ready to say something or another, but a black blur pops out from behind the behemoth, also craning his neck (but not to the same degree by any means). This one's Kaito, and he's got a bright orange apron on over his clothes. ]
Get back in there, Watanabe. She's a guest. [ Gouichirou 'BIG CHEEKS' Watanabe lumbers back into the restaurant after gruffly nodding in the chef's direction. Kaito folds his hands behind his head. ]
Hiya, Doc. I had to tell some of our customers not to call the cops and that there's no crazy lady talking to herself outside. Wanna come in?
But has she moved? No. Is she fazed? Hardly. Men towering over her is a frequent affair, unfortunately. (No, I will not elaborate.) This absolute unit of a man proves to be no exception. If anything, Haruhi has Pavlov'd herself to actually feel preemptively pissed off when faced with the brutish, scary types.
It's only when her eyes are pointed almost directly at the sky, only when she goes to open her mouth and say something she'll most certainly regret (as if this lout is the one inconveniencing her) that Haruhi is forced to bite her tongue.
Enter: Kaito. Enter: Haruhi gawking dumbly, for some reason? ]
Crazy lady. . .?
[ Yes, Haruhi. That's you.
We've passed the point of no return now. Suddenly, the glue cementing her to this spot begins to disintegrate. She paints her visage with the most half-assed, polite smile she can manage (which isn't saying much) and answers, hesitantly, ] Uh, yeah, yeah. Of course.
[ Just as she's traipsing past Kaito, however, she swivels, pressing the box into his apron. There's a very distinct lack of eye contact when she does this. ]
She's fortunate that Kaito interrupted. Watanabe's quite [redacted], so going after him would most certainly have led to [redacted]... ]
Crazy lady, [ he reiterates. The empath swivels aside to let her in, then huffs an 'oof' when she jams a box his way. Kimchi...? A headtilt is his response—followed by him unceremoniously lifting the lid to take a whiff.
Kaito smiles. ]
No idea what this is for, but thank you. I'm actually quarter-Korean, y'know. I love kimchi.
[ With that, the chef follows her in. Unlike its dingy exterior, Souper Noodle's interior is about as clean as it gets for a restaurant. Wooden floors and warm colors depict a homey, cozy, well-lit interior. Tables and booths litter the space, and next to the kitchen doors is a bar with plastic stools. People of various walks are stuffing their faces. Families with kids, high-schoolers, delinquents, an oni...
Wait a fucking second.
Oh. That's just the giant from earlier dwarfing the booth he's sitting in. Of course there aren't any yokai here.
Kaito quickly beelines behind the bar and beckons Haruhi to take a seat. At this hour, there are quite a few open. He slips the kimchi box under the counter before sliding a spiral-bound menu booklet her way. ]
Neither is she prepared for the oddly coincidental reveal of Kaito's heritage. Naturally, like the overthinker she is, this sends our doctor spiraling. It was only something she brought on a whim! Leftovers in her fridge from a weekend where she had a wild hair and decided to comb it in the kitchen; that's all!
This doesn't come off as creepy, does it?
Absurd as it may be, it's her way of saying, 'We're even now, right?,' because god fucking forbid she owes anyone else a favor. ]
No, actually. I did not know that.
[ Even when her chin is tucked and she mumbles, she sounds so, so composed.
If only her face didn't beg to differ. Kaito's empathetic abilities prove ineffectual when it comes to Haruhi, simply because even an idiot could tell what she's thinking if they bothered to look in her general direction.
She tries, fruitlessly, to ignore this fact when she sidles into a corner seat at the bar. However, it isn't her order that he gets, but a stitched brow.
He's on the other side of the bar. He's still wearing his apron.
Haruhi leeeeans in until her ribs are flush against the counter, whispering to her server(?), ] Thought I was here for our drinking contest, chef.
You aren't planning on drinking while on the clock, are you?
This unreliable narrator shall be pleading the American Fifth with regards to Haruhi's potential Creep Factor™. Unfortunately for her, they are most certainly not even. Whether the kimchi tastes good or sends him to intensive care later may or may not change that.
Watching the doctor fling her emotions off her sleeves and directly into his eye sockets, Kaito reciprocates that leeeean, dipping in until their faces are just inches apart. Nod, nod. ]
I thought you were just here to eat.
To answer your question...
[ Straightening up, the chef takes a step back. There are several shelves mounted to the wall, lined to the edges with booze of varying origins and quality. His gloved hands reach to the middle shelf, snagging a pair of dark green bottles before planting them on the bar. Then, two more. Two more after that.
Curious patrons begin to direct their attention to the back once the tenth bottle hits the counter. The din of white noise associated with a bustling venue has died down.
Grinning wide, Kaito disappears behind the bar for all of three seconds before lifting a chalkboard as wide as his wingspan (and nearly as tall) and hanging it on some conveniently dangling hooks above and behind him. Dozens upon hundreds of names are penned neatly in letters or characters. A minuscule section of the board in the lower right hand corner is boxed out and contains four names.
The empath clears his throat, and now everyone's attention is on him. ]
It's been a while, but a new face has opted to take the plunge and issue a challenge of liverly fortitude against Shibuya's finest. Guests old and new, please pay your respects.
[ Gesturing flamboyantly in Haruhi's direction prompts the crowd to burst into cheers and applause. Kaito unscrews the first bottle, releasing a strong alcoholic odor into the vicinity. Two shot glasses are filled with its clear contents—soju. Golds lock with pinks for a brief moment before he returns to addressing the rest of the aurant. ]
The rules and stakes remain the same. Challenger and chef will take one shot per round. The time between rounds will start at a generous sixty seconds, steadily decreasing across the course of the game. The first to give in will be the loser, and their name will join countless others on the board of shame. But if our challenger wins, she will be our fifth champion—and she'll be entitled to free ramen for an entire year!
[ Wow. He's really hamming this up... And the crowd's kind of fuckin' with it. Hell, the six little green dudes standing on one of the booths are cheering their beaks off!
Wait, what?
Oh. Those were just kids in green shirts. Of course. Where are their parents?
Kaito finally looks back down at Haruhi, features practically aglow in the midst of his showmanship. ]
I do, in fact, get paid to drink. I hope you're not getting cold feet. You're the one who said she wouldn't lose! ♪
[ Now, by no means is Haruhi shy. But the least Kaito could've done was warn her so that she could wear something that looked a little less homeless than this ratty ol' hoodie, y'know?
The masses soothe themselves in anticipation of the challenger's clap back. Does she crumble under pressure? Will she fold? Will her eyes produce the very daggers staking their claim in her opponent's stupid, golden gaze?
We're left in pin-prickling suspense for what feels like days (five, actually)—that is, until the doctor reaches for her glass. ]
One for the heart, [ Haruhi lilts, forgoing the rules of etiquette and unceremoniously knocking back her shot like it's water. (With the way her face twists, you can tell it absolutely did not go down like water.)
The crowd erupts, singing their praises for yet another challenge accepted, only to immediately dry up again when Haruhi reaches for the shot glass sitting in front of the chef. ]
One for the soul. [ She slams its contents before anyone can protest or condemn her for her complete disregard of the first rule.
Cue: Every patron, young and old, absolutely losing their shit. (Optional) Cue: Leaving the Light playing over a soju-slamming montage? ]
[ Oh, it's fine. She looks more at home with the worn clothes.
Golds twinkle with unrestrained amusement as Haruhi takes her time before knocking back her first shot. Way to build up crowd and unreliable narrator suspense.
—And then she proceeds to practically bring the roof down on everyone by stealing his shot before he can lift his hand. One of the kappa clambers onto a shelf where they know Kaito keeps the remote and navigates to a new YouTube video...
And as the music comes on, Kaito flourishes his hand across the bar, leaving a line of some dozen empty glasses in its wake. It's almost physically impossible for the rowdy Noodlers to get any louder, but they're trying their best.
Each glass is filled to overflowing before Kaito slips two between his splayed hand's fingers, lifts, and pours their contents back. A third and fourth are soon to follow.
Screw the rules, I didn't wanna narrate each round's cooldown time anyway!
While the pair poison themselves, It becomes ever more apparent that Kaito's boasting was well-founded. Every finger of soju he drains is accompanied by a sharp, satisfied exhale. By the time the pair hit ten glasses, the whole restaurant is full of punch(and legitimately)-drunk patrons pouring it out.
Yet he looks like he's been casually drinking water despite the scent of alcohol clinging to both of them. After refilling each of the glasses, Kaito flashes a shut-eyed grin her way. ]
How are you feeling, Doc? You're really going wild, y'know.
[ There's wild, and then there's whatever the hell this is.
As the night carries on, one thing becomes abundantly clear to our good doctor: she is the new kid on the block. The Chihiro to everyone's Kasuga-sama. These Noodlers are nothing short of experts when it comes to spending their nights out on the tiles; tonight, Haruhi has been wistfully spirited away amongst their tides.
And she is all about it.
When we consult the official Seven Stages of Being Drunk, we can conclude that the doc is comfortably sitting around Stage 3 (hereby referred to as Sloshed™) and very quickly working her way up to Stage 6 (Hammered™). Blushing hues dance around one woman, in particular, who's looking exceptionally vulpine—er, voluptuous. Yeah, voluptuous. Haruhi swears this lady is giving her bedroom eyes. (She can't see straight, so this is highly debatable.)
Whether the woman is or isn't doesn't matter, because the doctor's attention swivels back toward her opponent when she hears him. ]
Kaitooooo~
[ Uh-oh, she's turned a little too fast. The whole place is spinning. She clings to his back, grabbing dark fabric by the fistfuls for purchase. ]
'stherestroom—
[ Speak up, Haruhi. We can't hear you when you're mumbling into his shirt. She lifts, just enough to kinda-whisper-kinda-yell into Kaito's ear. ]
[ She's truly one of theirs. A rookie way in over her head, but a rookie with guts. The yokai will be adopting her after this—particularly the voluptuine one who has made her ogling quite apparent.
Amidst his den of spirits, Howl Pendragonagano (this unreliable narrator refuses to associate Kaito with Yubaba help absolutely not) casts a fond smile as Haruhi nearly tosses herself off her stool. Yes, she's definitely looking pretty close to Stage Six right now.
Despite the ringing that's been plaguing his head since the game began, he still manages to turn around after letting her paw and claw at the back of his shirt. ]
C'mere, I'll take you.
[ There's no opening for a rebuttal in his words, as Kaito proceeds to lean in and loop an arm around the good doctor's shoulders before guide-dragging her in the general direction of Away From His Customers. They're too far into their cups to notice or care (save for that kitsune, who will remember the night Head Chef Nagano NTR'd her out of—
Uh, anyway, it's actually a bit of a winding walk through some hallways to reach a singular bathroom door. The raucous energy from the restaurant has all but vanished. Kaito's free hand opens the door. ]
Need me to rub your back, Doc? Or are you okay to take it from here?
[ Her response is so flat and so uncharacteristically serious. Dear god, no. She can't let anyone see her in this state. Not him, not now, not ever. Of all of the things Haruhi is willing to sacrifice in her life, her pride is not one of them.
She slinks out from his grip and slams the bathroom door shut behind her, but this doesn't stop any poor soul within the vicinity (so, just Kaito) from hearing the sound of the toilet lid lifting and—
In an effort to save everyone's lunch, we will simply infer what happens next.
For a while, it's quiet. Then, there's the distinct sound of water streaming from a faucet for an ungodly long amount of time.
Actually... it's been a really, really long time. What's going on in there? ]
[ Snickering, Kaito takes off once the door closes, plopping onto a chair in the hallway.
As this unreliable narrator was raised around nurses, the inferencing is very detailed. Kaito's heard and seen worse, so he just fiddles with his phone while waiting for the doctor to stumble out.
He's in the middle of catching his fourth Pancham in Pokemon Go when he finally picks up on the fact that she's been running the faucet for a while... Curious, he walks to the bathroom door and knocks twice. ]
[ There's a long, long pause—long enough to absolutely be a cause for concern, until...
The door cracks open. The bathroom light is off. The faucet is still running. The only thing to emerge from the other side is a small, sheepish voice hiding in the cloak of darkness. ]
[ Truly. Kaito was just about ready to barge in when the door opened, awkwardness be damned. Thankfully, neither of them will have to deal with the consequences of those actions, and the chef simply slips a hand into one of his many pockets.
With a firm tug, a warm, fresh-scented black shirt is retrieved. It is undoubtedly several sizes too large for the woman, but that probably isn't going to be of much. concern when the other is covered in puke.
Kaito slips his arm through the gap and dangles the cloth. ]
Here you go. You can leave yours behind if you want. I'll take care of whatever mess remains.
[ There's a point where you have to wonder... if Kaito can miraculously produce clothing out of the seemingly boundless expanse of his pockets, why can't he at least pick something that isn't plain black, for once?
Haruhi isn't in a state to question much of anything, barring her own decisions.
She swipes his offer and slams the door shut. In a few minutes' time, everything seems to be in order when she emerges; her hair is tied into a loose, messy pile at the top of her head while her figure is drowning in the borrowed fabric. You can tell this whole ordeal has sobered her up quite a bit because she is actually pouting.
The look she's giving Kaito toes the line between ashamed and annoyed. ]
[ Hell no. Their Confidant link isn't nearly high enough for him to share his non-monochrome shirts with her.
Not yet, anyway.
Once she's out, Kaito gives Haruhi a single once-over before holding his arm out in case she needs it. Now that she's sobered up, will she notice how his cheeks and the tips of his ears are a rosy hue?
It certainly isn't from blushing at her sensual, shirt-wearing form.. ]
Nice try, Doc. You definitely won the crowd over.
Do you want to go home? I can get you there, or call a cab, or maybe an Uber...
[ Because there's nothing more alluring than vomit and baggy clothes, right?
Ultimately, Haruhi does loop her arm around his. As... sobering... of an experience as this may have been, she's still left feeling worse for wear. Dizzy, even, but definitely not dizzy enough to ignore or refrain from pointing out: ]
Heh~ Lookin' a little red there, chef. End up having too much to drink, after all?
[ She punctuates her teasing with a couple of jabs into his chest using her index finger. If he's going to give her a win, then she might as well take it and fucking run with it. ]
No need for any of that. My place is only a few blocks away. Easy walk.
[ What do you know? Souper Noodle isn't the only thing living in Shibuya's seediest area.
[ She does look cute in his shirt, but he'll die again before admitting it. ]
I dunno, you've got me fairly doubtful that you can make the whole trip, Doc. [ Why does he sound like he's up to something...? While Kaito leads them to the back exit, the jabs to his chest prompt a huff. ]
And for your information, I'm enjoying a very nice buzz while tolerating your ribbing.
[ It's not long before they reach a pair of metal double doors that Kaito pushes open with his foot. Outside is, surprisingly, another Shibuya back alley. At this hour, it's almost completely empty.
Which is perfect, because Kaito chooses this moment to swiftly pivot in front of the good doctor and snatch her legs. That's right, she's being unceremoniously loaded onto his back like a basket of Palian vegetables. The motion is so smooth that it has to be practiced...
Grinning, the empath tosses a glance over his shoulder at Haruhi. ]
[ Death might just be closer than you think, Kaito.
Because the grip she uses to cling to him is bordering lethal. ]
Wh— What the—HEY!
[ The protesting is shortlived. She is really fucking dizzy now. The ground is gone. Her weight is gone. Everything feels gone, except the vice she has around her ride and the onset aura of a wracking headache.
Oh, and the very distinct sense of shame that comes from being hoisted like a basket of vegetables; at this, Haruhi groans into her Uber.
However, that very groan quickly begins to disperse into a fit of giggles.
She's into it. ]
Uhhh, south! Down 88th! Fast, or you're losing your tip.
[ Fast, in your state, is a terrible idea, Haruhi, but whatever. ]
[ On any other night, the wave of nausea rocking Haruhi's senses would feed directly into Kaito, and that might just spell Certain Doom™...
But he is a bit buzzed, and it does dampen his empathy just enough to spare the pair from Disaster.
After adjusting his hold around her thighs, Kaito takes off at a... leisurely pace. There's no way in hell he's going to go fast when the good doctor might lose yesterday's lunch if the turbulence gets bad. ]
Bah, I don't need YOUR tips! [ he declares, barking a laugh. Downtown Shibuya's about as vibrant as ever, even as midnight approaches. The pair get more than a few odd glances, but it's not that strange to see two young idiots getting drunk on a Friday night... Probably. ]
So. [ As they saunter, Kaito sneaks another look over his shoulder. ] Did you have fun in there? You really won the crowd's hearts, y'know that? If only you could drink as well as you posture...
Think I drank more than enough, thankyouverymuch. I dunno what would've happened if I had as much as you, though. [ Her words hem together in a drowsy drawl that's only getting worse as she rambles. ]
You sure do have a weird crowd hanging out there, y'know. Really rowdy and kinda weird lookin'. Like we were at some sorta party—oh, and there was this one woman who was really... really...
[ Haruhi trails off, resting her chin on his shoulder.
It's around this time that Kaito will probably start to notice the slack in her grip, and... ah, faint snoring. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
And yet, it's our good doctor who's garnering the most side eyes what with how she's planted herself directly in front of the establishment and muttering like a woman possessed by the spirit of spite.
Luckily (or unluckily), she won't have to stew for long. Double doors (that look brand new compared to the dilapidated state of the rest of the shops) fly open as a giant taller than the doorway and nearly as wide lumbers out and cranes his neck nearly ninety degrees in the direction of down to glower at Haruhi.
He opens his big mouth, ready to say something or another, but a black blur pops out from behind the behemoth, also craning his neck (but not to the same degree by any means). This one's Kaito, and he's got a bright orange apron on over his clothes. ]
Get back in there, Watanabe. She's a guest. [ Gouichirou 'BIG CHEEKS' Watanabe lumbers back into the restaurant after gruffly nodding in the chef's direction. Kaito folds his hands behind his head. ]
Hiya, Doc. I had to tell some of our customers not to call the cops and that there's no crazy lady talking to herself outside. Wanna come in?
no subject
[ Great gods, this man is huge.
But has she moved? No.
Is she fazed? Hardly. Men towering over her is a frequent affair, unfortunately. (No, I will not elaborate.) This absolute unit of a man proves to be no exception. If anything, Haruhi has Pavlov'd herself to actually feel preemptively pissed off when faced with the brutish, scary types.
It's only when her eyes are pointed almost directly at the sky, only when she goes to open her mouth and say something she'll most certainly regret (as if this lout is the one inconveniencing her) that Haruhi is forced to bite her tongue.
Enter: Kaito.
Enter: Haruhi gawking dumbly, for some reason? ]
Crazy lady. . .?
[ Yes, Haruhi. That's you.
We've passed the point of no return now. Suddenly, the glue cementing her to this spot begins to disintegrate. She paints her visage with the most half-assed, polite smile she can manage (which isn't saying much) and answers, hesitantly, ] Uh, yeah, yeah. Of course.
[ Just as she's traipsing past Kaito, however, she swivels, pressing the box into his apron. There's a very distinct lack of eye contact when she does this. ]
This is for you. It's kimchi.
no subject
She's fortunate that Kaito interrupted. Watanabe's quite [redacted], so going after him would most certainly have led to [redacted]... ]
Crazy lady, [ he reiterates. The empath swivels aside to let her in, then huffs an 'oof' when she jams a box his way. Kimchi...? A headtilt is his response—followed by him unceremoniously lifting the lid to take a whiff.
Kaito smiles. ]
No idea what this is for, but thank you. I'm actually quarter-Korean, y'know. I love kimchi.
[ With that, the chef follows her in. Unlike its dingy exterior, Souper Noodle's interior is about as clean as it gets for a restaurant. Wooden floors and warm colors depict a homey, cozy, well-lit interior. Tables and booths litter the space, and next to the kitchen doors is a bar with plastic stools. People of various walks are stuffing their faces. Families with kids, high-schoolers, delinquents, an oni...
Wait a fucking second.
Oh. That's just the giant from earlier dwarfing the booth he's sitting in. Of course there aren't any yokai here.
Kaito quickly beelines behind the bar and beckons Haruhi to take a seat. At this hour, there are quite a few open. He slips the kimchi box under the counter before sliding a spiral-bound menu booklet her way. ]
Over here, sit down. What'll you have?
no subject
Neither is she prepared for the oddly coincidental reveal of Kaito's heritage. Naturally, like the overthinker she is, this sends our doctor spiraling. It was only something she brought on a whim! Leftovers in her fridge from a weekend where she had a wild hair and decided to comb it in the kitchen; that's all!
This doesn't come off as creepy, does it?
Absurd as it may be, it's her way of saying, 'We're even now, right?,' because god fucking forbid she owes anyone else a favor. ]
No, actually. I did not know that.
[ Even when her chin is tucked and she mumbles, she sounds so, so composed.
If only her face didn't beg to differ. Kaito's empathetic abilities prove ineffectual when it comes to Haruhi, simply because even an idiot could tell what she's thinking if they bothered to look in her general direction.
She tries, fruitlessly, to ignore this fact when she sidles into a corner seat at the bar. However, it isn't her order that he gets, but a stitched brow.
He's on the other side of the bar. He's still wearing his apron.
Haruhi leeeeans in until her ribs are flush against the counter, whispering to her server(?), ] Thought I was here for our drinking contest, chef.
You aren't planning on drinking while on the clock, are you?
no subject
This unreliable narrator shall be pleading the American Fifth with regards to Haruhi's potential Creep Factor™. Unfortunately for her, they are most certainly not even. Whether the kimchi tastes good or sends him to intensive care later may or may not change that.
Watching the doctor fling her emotions off her sleeves and directly into his eye sockets, Kaito reciprocates that leeeean, dipping in until their faces are just inches apart. Nod, nod. ]
I thought you were just here to eat.
To answer your question...
[ Straightening up, the chef takes a step back. There are several shelves mounted to the wall, lined to the edges with booze of varying origins and quality. His gloved hands reach to the middle shelf, snagging a pair of dark green bottles before planting them on the bar. Then, two more. Two more after that.
Curious patrons begin to direct their attention to the back once the tenth bottle hits the counter. The din of white noise associated with a bustling venue has died down.
Grinning wide, Kaito disappears behind the bar for all of three seconds before lifting a chalkboard as wide as his wingspan (and nearly as tall) and hanging it on some conveniently dangling hooks above and behind him. Dozens upon hundreds of names are penned neatly in letters or characters. A minuscule section of the board in the lower right hand corner is boxed out and contains four names.
The empath clears his throat, and now everyone's attention is on him. ]
It's been a while, but a new face has opted to take the plunge and issue a challenge of liverly fortitude against Shibuya's finest. Guests old and new, please pay your respects.
[ Gesturing flamboyantly in Haruhi's direction prompts the crowd to burst into cheers and applause. Kaito unscrews the first bottle, releasing a strong alcoholic odor into the vicinity. Two shot glasses are filled with its clear contents—soju. Golds lock with pinks for a brief moment before he returns to addressing the rest of the aurant. ]
The rules and stakes remain the same. Challenger and chef will take one shot per round. The time between rounds will start at a generous sixty seconds, steadily decreasing across the course of the game. The first to give in will be the loser, and their name will join countless others on the board of shame. But if our challenger wins, she will be our fifth champion—and she'll be entitled to free ramen for an entire year!
[ Wow. He's really hamming this up... And the crowd's kind of fuckin' with it. Hell, the six little green dudes standing on one of the booths are cheering their beaks off!
Wait, what?
Oh. Those were just kids in green shirts. Of course. Where are their parents?
Kaito finally looks back down at Haruhi, features practically aglow in the midst of his showmanship. ]
I do, in fact, get paid to drink. I hope you're not getting cold feet. You're the one who said she wouldn't lose! ♪
no subject
The masses soothe themselves in anticipation of the challenger's clap back. Does she crumble under pressure? Will she fold? Will her eyes produce the very daggers staking their claim in her opponent's stupid, golden gaze?
We're left in pin-prickling suspense for what feels like days (five, actually)—that is, until the doctor reaches for her glass. ]
One for the heart, [ Haruhi lilts, forgoing the rules of etiquette and unceremoniously knocking back her shot like it's water. (With the way her face twists, you can tell it absolutely did not go down like water.)
The crowd erupts, singing their praises for yet another challenge accepted, only to immediately dry up again when Haruhi reaches for the shot glass sitting in front of the chef. ]
One for the soul. [ She slams its contents before anyone can protest or condemn her for her complete disregard of the first rule.
Cue: Every patron, young and old, absolutely losing their shit.
(Optional) Cue: Leaving the Light playing over a soju-slamming montage? ]
no subject
Golds twinkle with unrestrained amusement as Haruhi takes her time before knocking back her first shot. Way to build up crowd and unreliable narrator suspense.
—And then she proceeds to practically bring the roof down on everyone by stealing his shot before he can lift his hand. One of the kappa clambers onto a shelf where they know Kaito keeps the remote and navigates to a new YouTube video...
And as the music comes on, Kaito flourishes his hand across the bar, leaving a line of some dozen empty glasses in its wake. It's almost physically impossible for the rowdy Noodlers to get any louder, but they're trying their best.
Each glass is filled to overflowing before Kaito slips two between his splayed hand's fingers, lifts, and pours their contents back. A third and fourth are soon to follow.
Screw the rules, I didn't wanna narrate each round's cooldown time anyway!
While the pair poison themselves, It becomes ever more apparent that Kaito's boasting was well-founded. Every finger of soju he drains is accompanied by a sharp, satisfied exhale. By the time the pair hit ten glasses, the whole restaurant is full of punch(and legitimately)-drunk patrons pouring it out.
Yet he looks like he's been casually drinking water despite the scent of alcohol clinging to both of them. After refilling each of the glasses, Kaito flashes a shut-eyed grin her way. ]
How are you feeling, Doc? You're really going wild, y'know.
no subject
As the night carries on, one thing becomes abundantly clear to our good doctor: she is the new kid on the block. The Chihiro to everyone's Kasuga-sama. These Noodlers are nothing short of experts when it comes to spending their nights out on the tiles; tonight, Haruhi has been wistfully spirited away amongst their tides.
And she is all about it.
When we consult the official Seven Stages of Being Drunk, we can conclude that the doc is comfortably sitting around Stage 3 (hereby referred to as Sloshed™) and very quickly working her way up to Stage 6 (Hammered™). Blushing hues dance around one woman, in particular, who's looking exceptionally vulpine—er, voluptuous. Yeah, voluptuous. Haruhi swears this lady is giving her bedroom eyes. (She can't see straight, so this is highly debatable.)
Whether the woman is or isn't doesn't matter, because the doctor's attention swivels back toward her opponent when she hears him. ]
Kaitooooo~
[ Uh-oh, she's turned a little too fast. The whole place is spinning. She clings to his back, grabbing dark fabric by the fistfuls for purchase. ]
'stherestroom—
[ Speak up, Haruhi. We can't hear you when you're mumbling into his shirt. She lifts, just enough to kinda-whisper-kinda-yell into Kaito's ear. ]
Uhhhn... where's the restroom???
[ Does that answer your question, chef? ]
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Amidst his den of spirits, Howl Pendragonagano (this unreliable narrator refuses to associate Kaito with Yubaba help absolutely not) casts a fond smile as Haruhi nearly tosses herself off her stool. Yes, she's definitely looking pretty close to Stage Six right now.
Despite the ringing that's been plaguing his head since the game began, he still manages to turn around after letting her paw and claw at the back of his shirt. ]
C'mere, I'll take you.
[ There's no opening for a rebuttal in his words, as Kaito proceeds to lean in and loop an arm around the good doctor's shoulders before guide-dragging her in the general direction of Away From His Customers. They're too far into their cups to notice or care (save for that kitsune, who will remember the night Head Chef Nagano NTR'd her out of—
Uh, anyway, it's actually a bit of a winding walk through some hallways to reach a singular bathroom door. The raucous energy from the restaurant has all but vanished. Kaito's free hand opens the door. ]
Need me to rub your back, Doc? Or are you okay to take it from here?
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[ Her response is so flat and so uncharacteristically serious. Dear god, no. She can't let anyone see her in this state. Not him, not now, not ever. Of all of the things Haruhi is willing to sacrifice in her life, her pride is not one of them.
She slinks out from his grip and slams the bathroom door shut behind her, but this doesn't stop any poor soul within the vicinity (so, just Kaito) from hearing the sound of the toilet lid lifting and—
In an effort to save everyone's lunch, we will simply infer what happens next.
For a while, it's quiet. Then, there's the distinct sound of water streaming from a faucet for an ungodly long amount of time.
Actually... it's been a really, really long time. What's going on in there? ]
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[ Snickering, Kaito takes off once the door closes, plopping onto a chair in the hallway.
As this unreliable narrator was raised around nurses, the inferencing is very detailed. Kaito's heard and seen worse, so he just fiddles with his phone while waiting for the doctor to stumble out.
He's in the middle of catching his fourth Pancham in Pokemon Go when he finally picks up on the fact that she's been running the faucet for a while... Curious, he walks to the bathroom door and knocks twice. ]
Yo. Everything good in there, Doc?
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The door cracks open. The bathroom light is off. The faucet is still running. The only thing to emerge from the other side is a small, sheepish voice hiding in the cloak of darkness. ]
えー
... D'you have a spare shirt I can borrow...
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[ Truly. Kaito was just about ready to barge in when the door opened, awkwardness be damned. Thankfully, neither of them will have to deal with the consequences of those actions, and the chef simply slips a hand into one of his many pockets.
With a firm tug, a warm, fresh-scented black shirt is retrieved. It is undoubtedly several sizes too large for the woman, but that probably isn't going to be of much. concern when the other is covered in puke.
Kaito slips his arm through the gap and dangles the cloth. ]
Here you go. You can leave yours behind if you want. I'll take care of whatever mess remains.
[ Pros of being a waterbender: cleaning. ]
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Haruhi isn't in a state to question much of anything, barring her own decisions.
She swipes his offer and slams the door shut. In a few minutes' time, everything seems to be in order when she emerges; her hair is tied into a loose, messy pile at the top of her head while her figure is drowning in the borrowed fabric. You can tell this whole ordeal has sobered her up quite a bit because she is actually pouting.
The look she's giving Kaito toes the line between ashamed and annoyed. ]
...You win.
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Not yet, anyway.
Once she's out, Kaito gives Haruhi a single once-over before holding his arm out in case she needs it. Now that she's sobered up, will she notice how his cheeks and the tips of his ears are a rosy hue?
It certainly isn't from blushing at her sensual, shirt-wearing form.. ]
Nice try, Doc. You definitely won the crowd over.
Do you want to go home? I can get you there, or call a cab, or maybe an Uber...
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Ultimately, Haruhi does loop her arm around his. As... sobering... of an experience as this may have been, she's still left feeling worse for wear. Dizzy, even, but definitely not dizzy enough to ignore or refrain from pointing out: ]
Heh~
Lookin' a little red there, chef. End up having too much to drink, after all?
[ She punctuates her teasing with a couple of jabs into his chest using her index finger. If he's going to give her a win, then she might as well take it and fucking run with it. ]
No need for any of that. My place is only a few blocks away.
Easy walk.
[ What do you know? Souper Noodle isn't the only thing living in Shibuya's seediest area.
Next up: Haruhi's shitty apartment. ]
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I dunno, you've got me fairly doubtful that you can make the whole trip, Doc. [ Why does he sound like he's up to something...? While Kaito leads them to the back exit, the jabs to his chest prompt a huff. ]
And for your information, I'm enjoying a very nice buzz while tolerating your ribbing.
[ It's not long before they reach a pair of metal double doors that Kaito pushes open with his foot. Outside is, surprisingly, another Shibuya back alley. At this hour, it's almost completely empty.
Which is perfect, because Kaito chooses this moment to swiftly pivot in front of the good doctor and snatch her legs. That's right, she's being unceremoniously loaded onto his back like a basket of Palian vegetables. The motion is so smooth that it has to be practiced...
Grinning, the empath tosses a glance over his shoulder at Haruhi. ]
Your Uber has arrived. Where are we goin', loser?
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Because the grip she uses to cling to him is bordering lethal. ]
Wh—
What the—HEY!
[ The protesting is shortlived. She is really fucking dizzy now. The ground is gone. Her weight is gone. Everything feels gone, except the vice she has around her ride and the onset aura of a wracking headache.
Oh, and the very distinct sense of shame that comes from being hoisted like a basket of vegetables; at this, Haruhi groans into her Uber.
However, that very groan quickly begins to disperse into a fit of giggles.
She's into it. ]
Uhhh, south! Down 88th!
Fast, or you're losing your tip.
[ Fast, in your state, is a terrible idea, Haruhi, but whatever. ]
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But he is a bit buzzed, and it does dampen his empathy just enough to spare the pair from Disaster.
After adjusting his hold around her thighs, Kaito takes off at a... leisurely pace. There's no way in hell he's going to go fast when the good doctor might lose yesterday's lunch if the turbulence gets bad. ]
Bah, I don't need YOUR tips! [ he declares, barking a laugh. Downtown Shibuya's about as vibrant as ever, even as midnight approaches. The pair get more than a few odd glances, but it's not that strange to see two young idiots getting drunk on a Friday night... Probably. ]
So. [ As they saunter, Kaito sneaks another look over his shoulder. ] Did you have fun in there? You really won the crowd's hearts, y'know that? If only you could drink as well as you posture...
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You sure do have a weird crowd hanging out there, y'know. Really rowdy and kinda weird lookin'. Like we were at some sorta party—oh, and there was this one woman who was really... really...
[ Haruhi trails off, resting her chin on his shoulder.
It's around this time that Kaito will probably start to notice the slack in her grip, and... ah, faint snoring. ]