Katana Zero Reader-Inserts

A Change of Plans (Zero & Reader)

(I recommend playing the game's track "Hit the Floor" over this, or at least listen to it once. It's an absolute banger.)

You stand awkwardly outside across from Club Neon as you wait for your friends to arrive. It has been 15 minutes, but you couldn't help doubting if your friends would show up at all. The more you shuffle your feet and check your phone, the more your paranoia grows about the danger you're attracting, simply from being alone. Despite the fairly safe environment that the Second District promotes, it didn't mean that crime doesn't occur. It's far better than the Third District, but you are still fair game the longer you stand around in the cold at night. With the rise of reports of massacres and single murders all around New Mecca recently, you couldn't help fidgeting when you made eye contact with anyone that looks your way.

With your resolve to hang out with friends gradually being overrun by survival instincts, you are prepared to bail and retreat to the comfort of your home. You glance down to your "partygoer" get-up that you assumed would be appropriate for the occasion. It is outside your comfort zone of more concealing clothes, and you regret your decisions to wear a tank-top and shorts further as the cold air chills you to the bone. Your salvation is the neon, zip-up sweater on your back, which you have unzipped and wrapped tightly around you to preserve your warmth. Your teeth begin to chatter as you give in to indignation. You may as well call it a night and leave. You can hold this against your friends later.

"Hey."

You snap away from your thoughts and gaze up to a male standing a foot away from yourself. You should have been alarmed of his close proximity, but you are more perplexed by his appearance. He seems to be wearing a flashy bathrobe, with one half draping one shoulder. His hair is pulled back in a ponytail, albeit loose for a messy and spiky look. And... is he carrying an actual katana? If he cleaned himself up more, he would have looked like the composed, armor-less samurai you saw in movies. Right now... he just seems to be a washed-up, crazy guy in cosplay.

You should have been abashed for blatantly staring at the male for as long as you did to note his features, but you grow more curious as you meet his gaze. He looks no older than you, but his eyes are shrouded in a darkness, emptiness, and frigidity normally found in someone twice, even thrice his age. Despite his stare, you couldn't deny that he is attractive, but you brush the thought away to finally address him. While he has been patient with your scrutiny, there is little telling where this would go. "...Yes?"

He gestures to Club Neon with his chin, "This club... do you know how to get to the DJ's booth?" His voice is quiet, yet rough and stern.

Well... that certainly was not what you were expecting to be asked. "Oh, sort of. You'll have to get backstage from the second floor. There are several floors going up toward the booth after that, but I don't know how many. Truthfully, I've never been back there, but you definitely need to get to the second floor." You explain to him, hoping your answer satisfied him.

"I see," he replies, "It shouldn't be a problem."

"I doubt it," you remark as you rub your arms and shift to look at the club's entrance, "With the murders lately, security has increased there. Apparently, there are guards patrolling the floors with guns as everyone parties. I wouldn't be surprised if guards are patrolling backstage too. Unless you're a DJ, good luck." ... DJ Samurai would be a sick name.

He hums in acknowledgment, "Thanks." The conversation should be over, but the man continues to stand near you. He seems to be contemplating something, but you don't have the faintest clue for what. An icy breeze passes over the two of you, and you can't help shivering. The male looks back to you. "You're freezing."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," you halfheartedly retort, "If you have no more questions, I'm leaving." You wait a moment for him to say anything, but the cold is making you numb. You step away from him and start walking down the street. A hand grasps your arm.