Androgyny

The money he received was twice as much delivered to him last, but it wasn’t the amount he wanted. He had expected more with the goods he managed to get. Small things but were still needed necessities.

Katamari Yodda had already given them a whole month’s allowance to make up the number he demanded.

They managed to reach the quota, in exact amount. With the wares he had embezzled from the black market, he had calculated on getting more. He was being duped.

This was not what he wanted.

He had dropped them as infants and toddlers when he found them troublesome, and only once again herded them with the sole purpose of gaining him some profit to live through his social standards, which was, to others, to find the simplest of comfort in what one might call a dump, but to the Scoundrels, it was already enough to even find such a space in their overpopulated territory. They would rather grovel than ask for help. But Katamari Yodda had other comforts in mind that he wanted. He had high ambitions and that didn’t include spending big money on people who wouldn’t even serve his purpose.

None of them had seen it coming, they had expected it, but hadn’t seen it, until Sento lay sprawled on the floor, looking stunned. One would have thought she would be used to it, but the look of sheer fury and shock mixed together in the gray depths of her eyes said so otherwise. The imprint of Yodda’s right hand started to swell on her cheek, a glaring crimson color as she held a hand over it.

There was also a mix of rage and temper in a pair of hazy dark depths as Gira glared at the man who had strode into the room in a fit of pent up anger and lashed out the first person he saw when he shoved the door open. Sento just had the misfortune of standing there when he came in. Only the look in Sento’s eyes held Gira back from making any move. She didn’t like it if anyone butted into her business.

“You little punks think you can outsmart me!” Yodda raged, his thick face beet red with uncontrollable anger, a fist raised threateningly when Sento snorted.

“What now?” Seireki asked, stepping in between Sento and his fist.

“Shut up, you piece of sh*t! You were supposed to teach them what I taught you!”

Defiance showed in a pair of eyes very much identical to Sento’s. Fists clenched at the sides as she stood before him, holding back her own share of anger at the man who forced them into this kind of living. “You never taught us anything, otosan.” She said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Takajirou Murasaki held her breath when she saw the quick reflex of Yodda’s arm, hitting Seireki across the face. Her head whipped around at the force, her short coarse dark hair flinging stiffly to the same direction, but she still stood, determined to keep him from doing any more harm on anyone where she was concerned.

Sento scrambled back to her feet but Seireki held her back from adding any more fuel to the fire. They all knew, just one word out of the headstrong girl, she could rekindle a dying spark back to a raging inferno. She never saw to it to hold herself back. Only Seireki would dare cut in between. And only Seireki was the sole person she would never lay a hand on. God knew how many harm she had gone through for Sento.

“Where’s my money, b*tch! Are you behind this?” He demanded. “There were a hundred thousand worth of goods I brought in! You gave me a measly half the price I expected.”

Seireki barely blinked. “You said you wanted us to reach half. The risk of releasing all the goods at the same time was too high, and pricing them in the numbers you wanted would have drawn too much attention. It was either we sell cheap and get rid of them. The underground dogs are bound to sniff their own merchandise if we bring all of it into the open.”

“Jou’s gettin’ aware of all the stealing, you old bastard.” Gira added. “He has his people keeping an eye out on the market.”

“I don’t give a damn if there are risks! I want it all!”

Murasaki cowered behind the door at the outburst, her nerves on end.

“We’ll give you your goddamn friggin’ money on the next release.” Seireki replied, unwavering, eyeing the veins popping on the man’s temples and neck. Any more strain on his temper and they’d be bulging from his skin.

Gira took the opportunity while they argued to edge closer to Sento, gently turning her face upwards for a brief inspection before letting go and knew without a doubt that the two sisters were going to have their shares of black and blue tomorrow. Yodda just never gave a damn if it were women or children as long as it was himself. He took a quick glance at Seireki who still held her ground. Unlike her sister, Seireki’s face was a mask of indifference, hiding anything she may be feeling at that moment, while Sento was scowling hard at Yodda.

They were two unlikely sisters yet still the same. Seireki would do anything to keep her sister from any harm and Sento would do anything to protect her. At least their goal was the same. Each as concerned for the other.

“There is no next f*ckin’ release, you punk!” He pointed out. “Oh, you think you’re smart, eh! You may be good at organizing everything, you little b*tch, but don’t think I didn’t notice how you can easily falsify the lists I made! Those goddamn merchandise were all sold at the right time at the right moment without getting any of those underground bastards on its scent!”

Murasaki gave a start, her eyes jerking towards the two at Yodda and his allegations. She had known of the shifting and replacing of certain numbers done by Seireki, Sento and Gira in the records Yodda had provided to keep track of the goods, but there were just too many to have been noticed were missing from the stocks. Keeping her mouth shut had been wise at first or get Sento on her case again without Gira already making the trouble of getting between her pants at every opportunity.

She was only doing what she was told to do, and that was to mind her own business.
It resulted to this.

The visible stiffening of the trio’s shoulders, however, answered his accusation, making him sneer.

“I’ll get that money if it’s the last thing I do!” Yodda roared, slamming out of the room.

The leather belt came down again and again, the slinging sound slicing through the air as Yodda furiously lashed out. His temper was to the extent of its limit and just about everyone knew how far he would go when he was mad. Raving mad and drunk was more like it.

He was sparing no mercy at the three cowering girls on the floor, the younger one at the far back where the two were shielding her from the attack. The first few strikes hadn’t missed her though; Murasaki still felt the searing pain on her arms and cheek where he had caught her by surprise. Sento had jumped in to her defense, surprising both her and Yodda at her action. She had staggered backwards and then Seireki was standing in her place, taking the brunt of it.

The older girl refused to budge when Sento tried to push her away. Both of them could now see the appearing red welts on her arms, one on her face, but she took it all in as if they were nothing to her. Sometimes Murasaki thought Seireki was already unaffected of any abuse since she had been experiencing it all her life.

As for Gira…

“Let me in, you crazy bast*rd!” He yelled through the locked door while pounding on it hard with his tightly clenched fist, the rotting wood rattling on its hinges.

Yodda had locked him out before he could even take a step through the door. Sadistic or not, Yodda did show a sign of wariness when Gira was around and he was more careful of his actions, maybe that was why Gira refused to stay absent from Sento. The old man was afraid of him, not completely, but at least he was a little careful.

Messing with Kazuhide “Hyô” Gira meant messing with his gang of delinquents. His word was their commandment.

“Open the door!” Gira pounded angrily until the hinges started to crack and the door shook loosely from the frame. “F*cking bast*rd!” He growled under his breath, the sound like that of a panther ready for battle against its enemy, showing no mercy.

He backed up a few steps and with one sure kick, sent the door down completely off its hinges and nearly crashing on the wall across from it. He stalked in, ready for war but only scowled at a panting Yodda on an old couch that occupied the room. The three were still on the floor, Sento choking back the words she wanted to scream at Yodda’s face. She had her swollen arms around Seireki, who was heaving, her arms crossed over her chest but not touching the broken flesh. Behind them was a trembling Murasaki, hugging herself into a tight ball.

“F*cking, stupid bast*rd!” Gira growled at Yodda who wasn’t the least bit concerned. “It makes you feel good to hurt women, doesn’t it? I’ll make you feel something else!” He yelled, lunging at Yodda.

Dark brown eyes grew wide as he saw Gira leap at him. The younger man more agile and fast than his thick, overweight body. He barely eluded the outstretched hand that was aiming for his neck as he rolled away from the couch, to the floor and scrambled back to his feet.

“Come back here!” He bellowed his rage, blinding him from noticing when Yodda reached for a microphone stand, his stance ready to swing.

He lunged again and the base of the microphone stand would have met his head if someone hadn’t grabbed him from behind. A pair of swollen arms had circled themselves over one shoulder and the other below one arm and held at the wrists for a firmer hold and pulled him back with full force, sending them both falling down backwards. The microphone stand swung a wide arc but swiped at nothing but empty air. The force of his swing sent Yodda to take an unbalance step around; he stumbled, hitting his head on a large speaker.

“Idiot…” Whispered Sento in Gira’s ear, her grasp on him tightening briefly before relaxing but she didn’t let go. Her head was slightly bent over his own; the coarse dark locks falling to cover whatever expression was on her face. “Leave out of this.”

Gira moved, standing up, offered his hand to her and pulled Sento on her feet. The scowl returned on his face when he looked over at a slumped Yodda. Everyone else had started moving around, all of them ignoring the man on the opposite side of the room.

There were four of them against him, but their fear of one man held them back. Seireki, Sento, and Murasaki… theirs was psychological. Inflicted on them at a very young age that it developed into something they couldn’t face yet. As for Gira, he could get him anytime but it was none of his concern. Sento had made it clear to him since the beginning.

“Sh*t…” Gira cursed under his breath, leading all three girls to the single bedroom at the back, the hazy murkiness of his eyes hid the ominous glitter in the depths as his sight never left Yodda for one moment until the door closed behind them.

Awhile later, they heard the lock on the door click. He had locked them in again and Gira could only roll his eyes at the attempt to the keep them there, turning his attention to the present task at hand. Patching them up was beginning to be one of his few hobbies, probably the only hobby he was getting good at. There wasn’t a day he wouldn’t notice a bruise or two on their skin, little or not, they always had a mark to carry around. And to top it all, they refused to leave the very person who did this to them.