DUSTY COFFINS ;; bnha

II : The Bar

name] awakened with a startle. Sweat dripped down her forehead in rivulets and her knuckles ached from how hard she was gripping the sheets. Scanning her surroundings, and finding nothing amiss, she let herself relax as she spared a glance at the alarm clock on her bedside table: 4:29 A.M. Perfect.

The young female stretched her arms far above her body until her back let out a symphony of cracks making her moan in relief. Swinging her legs over the mattresses edge, she hesitantly got on her own 2 feet and stood still for a second, gaining her balance. She began the lengthy trek from her bedroom to the kitchen. Her ankles cracked with every step and her knees creaked each time they bent. She limped down the hallway, hand on the wall for balance.

Breaking the threshold into the kitchen, she staggered away from the wall and to the sink. Reaching into a cupboard, she pulled out a cup — a plastic cup — and filled it with water. She greedily gulped the liquid down and immediately refilled the cup again, only taking a few sips this time. Looking out the window, she admired the view she had from her kitchen / living room.

The sound of traffic filled the night air; the city always tended to be busy at night by the rowdier population, when she preferred to lurk. Her appearance tended to be off putting and she only went out during the daylight if need be.

[name] discarded the plastic cup in the sink — she washed and reused all her plastic-ware — and began to journey back into her room, where she would hopefully fall asleep once more and not wake up during it.

The beeping of an alarm clock startled [name] into waking up once more. She groaned and cracked her fingers, every joint echoing a cacophony. She repeated the same routine from just a few hours earlier, staggering onto her feet and gaining her balance. She once again limped out to the kitchen where she began making a pitiful breakfast: half a blueberry bagel and some coffee that had more vanilla creamer than actual coffee. She slowly ate her breakfast and drank her coffee, feeling the sustenance slide down her throat and into her empty stomach cavity.

She disposed of the paper plate in the garbage can and downed the rest of her coffee; the dead cells at the top of her mouth hardly cringed at the hot liquid. She arose from her seat only to trip on the air. She slammed her foot against the counter and it popped off with a sickening crunch.

"Fuck!" [name] cursed, sitting on the floor and holding her detached foot. She sighed, having been used to losing limbs already. It was just apart of living with her quirk: zombie. She had no pulse and couldn't die unless her brain was destroyed. Her ligaments and tendons were weak and often tore, her joints popped out of their sockets daily and sometimes limbs or fingers would fly off if hit the wrong way. She once had her eyeball fall out and plop into her coffee.

Grabbing the emergency sewing kit from under the kitchen sink, she began the tedious task of putting herself together again. Thread the needle, pierce through the skin, pull through, pierce through the skin again, and pull taught. Knot the thread and begin again. Once her foot was securely reattached, she rotated it around for good measure, making sure the stitches would stay put.

[name] resumed her daily routine, stumbling to the bedroom to change clothes and then to the bathroom to do basic morning hygiene. She had given up washing her face long ago: her skin was dead, thus she was unable to have breakouts. Her skin secreted no oil, and instead, was sometimes infested by maggots and mites. She never went out on those days.

Checking the time, she decided it was time to go out. [name] made sure all her skin was covered: sunhat, sunglasses, and a face mask all included. She went out her apartment door, locking it behind her, and exited the apartment building, not once looking behind her. Confidence is key! She strolled down the sidewalk, her limp attracting the attention of some by-passers. Her limp no longer embarrassed her the way it used to, she had long gotten used to it.

Entering the bar — yes, she was ready to get plastered at 2 P.M., who isn't? — she sat down at the countertop and ordered her usual: gin and tonic, extra ice and extra lime. Beside her sat a buddy she hadn't seen in a while.

"Giran-san!" She exclaimed, shocked to see his face. "Well I'll be damned! I heard you got shot last month!"

"Well," He chuckled, winking at her with an unlit cigarette in his mouth. "They just can't keep me down, now, can they?" He lit his cigarette and took a deep drag, angling his lips to blow the smoke away from [name]. "How you been, bud?"

"Not bad, no complaints." [name] took a swig from her drink. "The apartment is working out just fine, thank you for the recommendation."

"Anything for you, kiddo." He winked again, tapping the ash off of his cigarette. He offered the stick to [name], who gladly took it, and deeply inhaled before giving it back. She blowed the smoke onto her drink and watched it wisp and fade away.

Giran and [name] went way back. When [name] was still in the orphanage, Giran had found her in an alleyway, covered in filth and grime. For a very low amount of yen a day, [name] helped him with his office-ly duties: filing away paperwork, answering the phone and redirecting clients, etc. Giran was like a weird uncle to [name]. He watched her grow up and shaped her into the young lady she was today.

"I'm still lookin' for help, ya'know?" Giran spoke up, yanking his cigarette back from [name].

"I may just take you up on that offer." [name] commented, taking a sip from her drink and slyly looking at him. "Shoplifting and picking pockets has finally lost its spark."

"I'm still at the old office," He said, lighting up another cigarette. "Come by later on today, I'll give you a rundown of everything."

"Has shit changed?"

"Changed? Absolutely." Giran scoffed. "I've taken on a lot more clients, who you'll be personally dealing with when I'm busy. Like I said, I'll give you a detailed rundown when you stop by."

Giran slapped some yen on the counter for the bartender to take and walked beside [name]. He clapped his hand on her shoulder and leaned down to eye-level with her.

"I've really missed you kiddo. I'd appreciate you coming around, again." With that, he strutted off with his hands in his pockets. He went out the door and lit up another cigarette, walking away and out of [name]'s sight.

She sighed and downed the rest of her drink, mentally preparing for the long day ahead of them.