Street Smarts | Ninjago AU

1 ~ hello old friend

Harumi, for the life of her, couldn't sleep. She thrashed around in threadbare sheets, pulling her pillow over her head. She'd gotten used to the random arguments that broke out in the downtown streets during ridiculous hours of the night, but for some reason they were really annoying her at the moment. The creaky room was too stuffy, the walls were too thin, everything was too annoying and persistent and loud.

     You have an exam tomorrow, Harumi begged her brain silently, well, two—three exams actually. But that's not the point! You need to sleep so you'll remember your notes!

     But all she could hear was his screams.

     Oh, she loathed that kid, the kid she babysat on a regular basis. It was a dumb job to keep her student debts from turning into prison sentences, because somehow the blacksmith that never had enough time to make anything made enough money to pay her. Harumi could've cared less how he got the money; she was more concerned with how hard it was to watch his brat. Freaking Lloyd, if she didn't have college tuition to worry about, she'd stuff his face into a toilet until he drowned. He was so whiny all the time. He'd been screaming for a BorgPad the entire day and Harumi wanted to buy one just so she could chuck it at his face. The pleasure she'd get from seeing his disappointed little eyes would fill a thousand chasms. But Lloyd needed to live, and he needed to be kept happy.

    And Harumi needed to sleep.

    The moth-eaten, cream curtains rustled gently with the early autumn breeze. They would open enough to flash glimpses of the flickering street lights lining the docks outside. If Harumi craned her head, she could hear the gentle flush of the ocean over the squealing kids and scorched adults. It was far too late for everyone to be out, but this was downtown Ninjago. No one cared about etiquette here. It was the only reason Harumi had remained hidden for so long.

    Outside of Harumi's cramped room, a door slammed shut, signaling the arrival of her flatmate. He wouldn't exactly be loud, but Harumi had already determined that sleep was avoiding her. Every nerve in her body was alive and sizzling; she would have rather run a thousand races than lie back down on that rock-hard, lumpy mattress. So, she slumped out of bed, pulling on a mucky brown hoodie over her thin black tank top and grey, fraying sweatpants.

     She yanked her long, dark hair out from the hoodie as she slid into the kitchen, not bothering to greet her flatmate at all. He was too busy studying the mail, sighing with each envelope he pried open. Splattered across the cluttered counter were his various restaurant paraphernalia: a visor, a nametag, a hot sauce-stained apron, and—thank the FSM—a bag of discarded food.

     Harumi dug through the plastic bag, pulling out a takeout box of lukewarm, half-eaten rice. She yanked a plastic fork from an overstuffed drawer of leftover silverware and made her way across the minute kitchen to the tiny foldup table her flatmate was sitting at. He was chewing the ends of his glasses, a heavy line of stress set into his forehead. His dark hair was tucked into a sloppy bun at the nape of his neck, and he didn't acknowledge Harumi when she sat down beside him.

     Harumi shoved a forkful of rice into her mouth.

     "Ro," she prodded after a second.

     He grunted, flipping the letter over and moving onto the last letter in the pile. Harumi caught a glimpse of their landlord's name at the top.

     "Ro," she tried again, poking his arm with the bottom of her fork. "How're we doing?"

     Ro finally looked up, displeasure lining his mouth when he saw the takeout box of rice. Harumi rolled her eyes, handing him the box and fork. "How are we doing, big shot?"

     Ro chewed thoughtfully upon taking a bite, his grey eyes drifting back to the last letter. "We're going to make it this month," he finally said. Ro's voice was deep and rough, like a dangerous ravine you'd rather avoid. It was the perfect voice to intimidate the landlord into letting them stay.

     "By the skin of our teeth?"

     He grunted in response, savoring what was left of the lukewarm rice. Harumi leaned back on her stool, fingering the holed edges of her hoodie. She'd stolen it forever ago, and she'd have to steal a new one soon. They just didn't have the money to go out and buy new clothes.

     "No electricity for the first fourteen days of the month 'cause the landlord raised prices again," Ro said once he'd finished his rice. "But I've been saving the extra wax from my job at the candle place. We'll have enough light to get by until my next paycheck comes in."

     "I'll probably have to stay overnight with Lloyd for a few of those nights," Harumi mused as Ro returned to his letter. "So I won't need candle bits. At least tell me we're getting plumbing this month."

     Ro nodded, and Harumi weakly cheered, "You're a lifesaver."

     "Just doing my job, Ru," he said quietly.

     "Hey, hey, no need for heroics. We have our deal. You shelter me until I finish college, then I use my newfound great job to pull you out of the dregs. It's a win-win for the both of us. We just need to wait until I graduate."

     "How are you going to graduate if you're staying up on test nights?" Ro inquired not-so-innocently.

     Harumi swore under her breath, snatching the box from his hands. She marched two feet to the kitchen, shoving the box into their overflowing trash bin. She'd have to take it out tomorrow. With a few swipes of her hand, she knocked Ro's stuff into the laundry bin beside the granite counter and the dishes into the sink with a loud clang.

     "Good luck!" Ro called as Harumi stormed back into her bedroom.

     "You're a moldy rat, Morro!"

     "Thank you!"

     Harumi slammed the door, throwing off the hoodie and collapsing back on her bed. She could hear Ro's laughter from the other room. She wished he'd shut up, but when it finally did die down, she wished he hadn't stopped. Ro was a much more pleasant sound than the reminiscent screams of Lloyd.

     And the night was silent and warm, and finally, finally, sleep came to claim Harumi into its lulling grasp.