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"Get the hell off me," the word of a slut is very often not taken to heart, and if she struggles, even more so. But, Ayana Nakata was a fighter at heart. A fighter for what? Certainly not justice, or anything like that. She's not a saint, she's a slut. She's a fighter when it comes to money.

"you dirty piece of trash, I will not do anything with you until you pay me the due fine." earlier that night it was to hang on someone's arm and act polite to his friends, now it's some drunken sleazebag who thinks pulling a knife on her will change anything.

"Put a sock in it," her from being slammed against a somewhat study concrete wall silences her until she's got her breath back. Honey colored eyes narrowing, before a wide rueful smile parts her lips.

"No way bozo, unless you've got some sort of Necrophilatic kink, and want to leave here with my dead body. Otherwise, I've nothing more to say to you until I have the cash." Any line like so was usually enough to get a few seconds head start, and tonight was the same. Because as soon as the words were out, and his hazy mind trying to process them, the bright red haired girl was ducking under his arms, wrenching free from his grip and dashing down the alleyway.

Only a few blocks later did Ayana turn into a bar, side stepping fast enough that she started a few people going out, but they only ended up running into the one pursuing her. It was enough to lose him, and allow her shoulders to sink in some form of relief. But, then it was right back to square one. Try and con some sorry piece of shit into paying for her to warm their bed, and then get them drunk enough that by morning that is all she did and didn't have to do any of the dirty work.

First, it was the card tables, try and see if anyone of the winners were interested, then it was onto the bar, and so on, and so on. After a grueling night and just short of seven hundred yen, she was exhausted, and rather pissed.

"Oi, what can I get ya'?" The sleazy smirk did not need to be seen, but Ayana turns her eyes up always, leaning against her hand as she seems to contemplate this guy - he looks semi familiar, as though she'd seen him about five minutes ago. Oh, wait, he was losing horribly in poker.

"How about a shot of get lost, along with a tall glass of not interested." The sudden deadpan tone had the man grabbing her by her ponytail, and yanking her off the bar stool. It wasn't like this wasn't uncommon, so no one really said anything or even did more than look up.

"You think pretty damn high of yourself, bitch, who do you think you are?"

"She's a one-star student of the academy." at the mention of a star, a few people are sent packing out the door. Those close enough to hear the new comers' voice, anyway. But Ayana had other issues, that the one holding her didn't seem to understand the fact. She grabs his arm, pulling her body weight up enough to gain some leverage, before turning and kneeing her 'attacker' in the gut. His grip in her hair is released at once, a low groan sounding in his chest as he steps away from the girl.

Addusting her now even messier hair, the Nakata girl finally gets a chance to look at her rescuer but doesn't take the chance. Her eyes are dead set on the counter before her. The grimy, grease covered bar was much more important to her at the moment. At least the bar could take a few moments of her anger before she was able to calm down.

"Mikisugi-Kun." Voice tight the woman tries not to slouch over the bar, one not to get grease on her, and two it was better to keep proper posture. Said man takes the bar stool next to her, he flags down a bartender and doesn't say a word until a bottle of Sake is placed before him along with a small cup.

"Nataka-chan." He plays the same game, which only makes the girl more upset. Rather hot tempered to start with, it wasn't a good idea to do so.

"I'm not leaving,"

"Who said I was going to make you."

Silence followed, two glasses of sake downed.

"How did you know about the One-star?" She sounds less defeated and more irritated.

"Word of anyone turning down a Goku uniform is news throughout the entire school. People think you're insane."

"If it's 'in' sane, wouldn't that make one 'within' sanity?"

"Hm," The glass finds the bar surface again. "I guess I'm going to be one of the first to ask you, but why?"

"I don't care for their power. I don't feel like wearing it. Everyone speaks of them enhancing their abilities, but that's on a physical level." Ayana turns in her seat, looking at the teacher - who resembles nothing like the drab boring history lecturer (who is not good at teaching.) Aikuro seems to have a somewhat curious look in his eye, but he's turned his attention elsewhere when he catches her staring. "I write code, and the only thing the damned one-star will give me is faster fingers to type mentioned code. I don't want that because then I'll be expected to do more work in less time."

After the rather exasperating explanation, Aikuro stands from his seat, places the money he owed on the counter surface, his hands find his pockets, and he left without so much of another word.