8 Americans

"You know, I don't get why we are eating at a Chinese restaurant in the middle of Japan."

"Because, I like Chinese food. Not that sushi shit you try to make me eat all the time."

This instigated an irritated sigh from a man toying with his chopsticks, staring down at fried noodles with disinterest.

"And this is better? Greasy food with enough salt to give you a headache for days?"

The female sitting across from him had been wasting no time chowing down on her own food. She had gotten honey chicken, which had already been halfway consumed by the time the man had began complaining.

Swallowing down some meat, she sent the man a small glare, pointing one of her chopsticks at him.

"At least the meat is actually cooked. I'd rather have a headache than food poisoning."

The man narrowed his eyes as well, their cold and red stare piercing into the girl before him.

"It's not even real Chinese food! This place is American. You expect me to believe the white guy back there with a name like Paul is Chinese? We might as well have went to Panda Pao." He grumbled, crossing his arms over his broad chest, chopsticks still in one hand.

The female across meanwhile had shut her eyes, focusing on eating as she replied.

"It's not the same. Panda Pao is corporate. We are supporting a private American business. And America is part of the reason we are the strongest economy on Earth."

The man scoffed, running his fingers through wavy, sunset locks, it's orange hue a standout amongst the artificial white light in the restaurant.

"As if. The United States didn't join us to help, they did it cause they were losing to us. You know what they say; if you can't beat 'em, join 'em." He countered.

"Whatever, Haru."

The girl ended the quarrel there, wanting to enjoy her meal. But alas, it had seemed the man named Haru still had his convictions.

He leaned forward, setting his chopsticks down and crossing his arms atop the table.

"Are you familiar with Gwen Stefani?" He suddenly asked.

This caused the girl to stop eating, knitting her brows as she glanced up at Haru once more, a piece of chicken pressed against her lips. She froze in this position a moment, reading the seriousness on her male counterpart's face before replying.

"Heard of her, know nothing about her."

"Well, Gwen Stefani was a famous singer, started a band like, fifty years ago. She then had a solo career, this was back when the United States was culturally and economically separate from us."

"And?"

"Well, Gwen Stefani got mad at some girl named Courtney Love. Courtney Love was famous too, lead singer of a famous band. Same career, blah blah blah."

"Okay, get to the point."

"So, Gwen Stefani was mad because Courtney Love claimed to have banged Gwen Stefani's ex-husband while they were still married. You know what happened?"

The girl sighed, deciding to amuse the other.

"What?"

"Gwen Stefani made a song, she called it 'Hollaback Girl'. Allegedly, the song was all about how if she ever saw Courtney in public, Gwen would beat the living shit out of her. That song then went on to become the number one song in the United States."

The girl rolled her eyes, resting her chin in the palm of her hand while the other idly toyed with the chopsticks that held her uneaten chicken.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

Haru then leaned in, eyes narrowing slightly as he moved his arms so that his palms rested flat on the table.

"It means, Tsukimi, that Americans are crazy. They have an obsession with chaos and violence. Nothing makes an American more happy than seeing two white girls fight each other over a man they don't even love."

Haru then pushed himself to his feet, adjusting his white denim jacket with his fingers, pulling it over his plain grey shirt neatly.

The aforementioned Paul, cashier of the fine establishment, had grimaced, seeing the orange knitted symbol of a hawk on Haru's back.

"Hey Paul! Can you bring us our check?" Haru called out.

Tsukimi pouted, brushing her platinum blonde bangs away from her eyes and tucking them firmly behind her ear.

"I wasn't done eating yet!" She complained, standing up to reveal a matching outfit; white denim with an orange knitted hawk on the back.

Haru rolled his eyes at the whining, checking his watch as his other hand rested on his waist.

"Too bad. We have a meeting in an hour and I really don't feel like getting torn apart by the boss for tardiness."

Tsukimi huffed.

"Fine. But you're paying!" She insisted.

"I'd be happy to."

Paul came rushing over, a sprint in his step as he zoomed past the aisle of tables, the place being empty of any customers aside from Haru and Tsukimi. Red booths with white tables filled the room, bamboo scrolls hung on the walls covered in Mandarin that nobody would be able to read.

Paul had stopped before the two, eyes wide as he shakily held out the bill.

"I-I hope you both enjoyed your meals."

Haru sighed, glancing at Tsukimi with a small grin.

"I think my girlfriend loved it, which means you all did a splendid job." He concluded.

Tsukimi frowned, a small glare coming in response to that grin as Haru reached down into his holster with one hand.

He suddenly turned to Paul, ramming his arm into the cashier's throat and slamming him against the wall. He then firmly pressed the silencer of his pistol into the mouth of the employee.

Paul's muffled screams could only vaguely be heard throughout the restaurant, quickly put at rest and replaced with the faint sound of a gun snapping it's trigger.

Blood splattered over the beige walls behind Paul as he slumped down to the floor.

Waitresses and cooks in the back could be heard gasping, along with a couple soft sobs of fear as Haru twirled his gun, placing it back into it's holster.

"Thanks again for the meal, Yankee bastard." He simply muttered, his grin widening with pleasure.

Tsukimi growled, climbing out from around the table and kicking her boyfriend in the shin.

"You asshole! I knew you were going to do that! " She hollered.

Haru winced, jerking his head to Tsukimi to scold her back until a waitress from the kitchen came out to assess the situation. Upon seeing the scene, the woman screamed, eyes watering at the sight of her co-worker's face being torn apart. Her hands would protect her eyes from the shock that already penetrated her mind, her shaky legs stepping back from the scene, mustering up the will to flee.

Both Tsukimi and Haru glanced up, eyes narrowing with irritation as both promptly pulled out their pistols once more.

Shots would be unheard, but flashes of light could be seen from outside as the woman took bullet after bullet, stumbling backwards before hitting the floor and being quieted down alongside her friend. Thin lines of smoke protruded from both of the silencer's barrels as the partners put their guns away at last.

The city had been undisturbed however, as the small shop laid unnoticed in the narrow alleys of the vast city, only a string amongst a busy and complex spiderweb.

The only thing more private than being alone? Being in a crowd.