If You Hate Me So

Mizuki is woken up to a tangerine being flung at her head. She jolts awake, sitting up at lightning speed whilst caressing the side of her head. Alas, she's not home.

She stares at the orange weapon sitting innocently by her hip, looking over her bed at Hinata whose back is faced to her. Smirking, she closes one eye for better aim, flinging the fruit at the center of his age.

By some miracle, Hinata turns just in time, only to catch the flying fruit in his palm effortlessly. Mizuki gapes at his reflexes, eyebrows forming a valley.

"Good effort," Hinata chortles.

"And what was that for?!" Mizuki scolds.

"It's almost noon, how else was I supposed to wake you, Snowball?" Hinata laughs, tossing the fruit mid-air playfully. He takes a seat at the table, putting on his reading glasses as he does so. Mizuki balls her hands into fists, gingerly climbing off the bed and then running down the staircase. If not for her fear of heights, she would've simply flown off her mattress and drop-kicked him.

Snatching his book from under his grip, she slaps him at the back of his head, positioning her arms at her hip. "And who was the one telling me only to treat him like a host and not like a friend? Do you treat all your guests like this?" Mizuki chastises in a mocking voice, holding a finger right in between his eyes.

Hinata dodges her questions, trying to reach around her in an attempt to retrieve his book. "I'd like my book back, thank you."

"You're not getting it!" she teases. Hinata stands, his chair sliding against the floorboards abruptly. At this point, Mizuki finds that she has to look all the way up just so she can meet his gaze, her nose only at his chest. She swallows, taking a step back.

"I'll be taking this back," Hinata grabs his book, silently sitting back in his chair. Mizuki frowns, storming to her own chair in front of which is a plate with a hearty breakfast. It's almost unreal how good it looks. A drop of drool hangs at the corner of Mizuki's lips as she eyes the food greedily.

"You resemble a pig when you look at my food like that," Hinata flips a page of his book. Mizuki kicks him under the table, silencing him. She shoves a spoonful of sausage and egg into her mouth, chewing aggressively in an attempt to calm her nerves.

"Hmph, you've got a thing for kicking people in the leg, don't you?!" He shifts his chair further away from Mizuki. "It's not my fault you don't know how to behave around women!" Mizuki speaks with her mouth full, bits and pieces of her breakfast spraying Hinata's way. He dodges with a distasteful expression.

"You're vile."

"Shut up," Mizuki swallows. 'I'll never be on peaceful terms with this man. He's so… He's so annoying!' She thinks in her head, expression increasingly intense. She hates that the food is so delicious, that the meat melts so perfectly on her tongue. 'If I didn't live off preservatives for the past two weeks, I'm sure I wouldn't have liked it this much.'

"Today I'll be teaching you the basics about how things work here, starting off with your personal care and later on, we'll progress on to how to make you stronger," Hinata explains the itinerary, shutting the book. He slots a piece of paper in between the pages, resting the book against the table. "Come out by the front door when you're done."

Mizuki turns her head away from him. Following the loud slam of the front door, the room is silent, lonely, a lot like it used to be in her own apartment. She tightens her grip around her fork, stuffing the rest of her food into her mouth before scurrying out the door. She holds her skirt down with one hand, trying to get it at a comfortable position on her legs.

"Didn't you have better clothes?" Mizuki is quick to complain upon seeing Hinata who shrugs off her frustrated comments. He holds up a leather satchel, watching her with an expectant expression. Mizuki holds the strap on her palm, lifting it up to his eye-level, "What do you want me to do with this? Is it like an inventory?"

"Hm," Hinata folds his arms in an impressed manner. "You're right for once."

Mizuki flicks her tongue. "Cut the teasing and tell me what I need to know. I want to get away from you as fast as I can."

"Trust me, Snowball, it's no different here," Hinata reassures, turning his back to her and leaving Mizuki behind. Slinging the bag over her shoulders, she slips her feet into a pair of dirty wooden sandals at the foot of his door, waddling after him. "With this bag, you can store about twenty items. You can get bigger ones, and better armour too."

"Figured, all I need to know is where I can get things around town and the basics of everything. I can handle everything else on my own," Mizuki mentions as she admires the town. It's uncanny to a quaint town from Victorian Europe, multi-coloured shophouses and apartments lining the streets. The ground is made purely out of cobblestone with no pathways for passersby or directions to mark the different locations on the street. It's nothing like Tokyo or the other neighbourhoods she has visited within Japan. She averts her gaze, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Distractedly, she strolls, trying to keep her eye on the road until she finds herself roughly shoved to the ground. She falls on her knees, grazing them, snapping her neck up with a harsh look. A plump, old man stands in front of her, stubble worn on his greasy face. He has one palm on his knee, the other supporting his glistening, bald head.

"Watch where you're going, lass, or are 'ya blind?" he croaks, alcohol-laced breath pungent in Mizuki's face.

Mizuki grits her teeth - both out of anger and disgust - about to shove her fist up the man's face when he's pushed at the shoulder by Hinata. "Who do you think you're talking to like that?"

"That's yer girl, eh? For a girlie going around looking like that, I betcha she ain't anything more than a peasant," he slurs, tumbling towards Hinata with uneven steps. His head barely reaches Hinata's chest, having to push himself up onto his stubby toes to sound even the least threatening.

Hinata, on the other hand, looks down at him with a condescending stare, a stone-cold expression unchanging. "You, don't strike me as any more than a rogue."

Hinata flicks the old man away, huffing with indignance. He rests his palm over his chest and a blue holographic panel appears mid-air. On it, are a collection of statistics and brief character information, an unfamiliar badge prominently displayed at the right.

The stranger shuffles on his feet, beady eyes widening enough to pop out of their sockets. He recoils, babbling unintelligibly before scrambling away, only to fall face-first onto the ground a couple metres down the street. Mizuki gapes up at Hinata in awe as he brushes his clothes. He meets her eye, "You plan on staying down there forever?"

Mizuki's face flushes as she realised that she has, yet again, opened up another opportunity for him to mock her. Upon composing herself, she nudges him, "I didn't need your help."