Ishiko pulled on the cigarette and waited, watching the glow slowly fade from the tip. She blew out the breath and lifted her other hand to her mouth to drink from the beer can she was holding. Her breath plumed in a cold cloud over the can. The evening was dreary and the sun was almost set. Fluorescent street lights gave the street a shadowy cast.
Perhaps smoking and drinking on the bench across from the corner market wasn't the best thing to do. But why should she go home? There wasn't anything waiting there for her that she didn't already have here. All she'd get is sore feet to go with her alcohol and nicotine.
So here she sat on a quiet and near-empty corner of Itabashi, just slowly wasting away a minute at a time.
"Hey, you okay?" A passing stranger asked in a horrible foreign accent. Maybe some kind of American or Englishman. She was leaning more English since the accent wasn't necessarily drawling or unintelligible. He actually looked rather pleasant in simple jeans and a collared shirt. He had short black hair with some bits of grey that had to be premature.
"Fine." Ishiko growled and put her cigarette to her lips again.
Only, her cold dismissal didn't make him turn and leave. Instead he turned more purposefully towards her and shook his head, "You sure? I wouldn't mind buying a pretty young woman a cup of coffee."
American. Definitely American. That was the one thing that Ishiko knew about them for certain. Of all the people in the world, Americans were the only ones that were almost indecently nice to strangers and could smile all the time for no reason.
"I'm not fucking destitute. I'm depressed and I've got my own cure for it right here." She shook her beer can at him and then gestured to the four that remained in the rings beside her. She took a chug of it and snarled, "So go away."
The half smile on his face slipped and he shrugged, turning to leave. He spoke as he stepped away from her, "Just because you're not destitute doesn't mean you couldn't find happiness in a free cup of coffee."
He actually gave her a bit of a wave before he stuffed his hands in his pockets. Ishiko scowled and looked down at herself. Did she really look so bad as to attract the pity of strangers?
Yes, admittedly her long straw yellow hair was a bit ragged. But that was because it had been done up for her job and she had been a bit rough in yanking it loose. Her vulpine ears were probably a bit matted with sweat. And yes, her tails were looking a bit dirty and could do with a brushing, but that wasn't her fault. The bench had been splattered in the dirt from weeks of cold weather and snow. Her work outfit, a rather cheap red and white shrine outfit, was dirty from the day at work. That showed she had a job and could take care of herself though, and it was mostly covered in a heavy winter coat anyway.
So why the hell was she being hassled by a random foreigner just for sitting here? Maybe home did have something to offer: a shut door. She put her cigarette in her mouth and got to her feet. Her tails dragged through the dirt on the bench as she grabbed the rest of her beer and started home.
What a day...
*******
The next morning found Ishiko laying in bed trying to work up the energy to just get up. This was nothing out of the ordinary, it had become a daily ritual for her over the last few years. Generally it started with her debating if she really needed to keep her job at the cafe, and then it moved into a wave of self-loathing over her sad life, and then usually she made it to a level of acceptance that the options were work or homelessness. So she felt around for the packet of cigarettes next to her and tapped one out. With it stuck in her mouth, she pushed the blankets back and got up.
Her apartment was... well... it was probably rather average for small Tokyo apartments. A small room with wooden floors, a single set of cabinets with a small sink and a single burner stove. A fridge sat up on the counter and a small washing machine was on the floor below it. A doorway with only a curtain led into a tiny bathroom with a tub barely big enough to stand in. She didn't even get a proper balcony, just a window looking down from the ninth floor and rail overhead to hang laundry outside.
Striking her lighter, she lit the cigarette and took a pull on it before sighing. Another day and she still lived. Might as well try to make something of it. It took her a moment to get to her feet and she shivered violently as soon as she did. Electricity was expensive and therefore so was heat. She settled for pulling open the closet door and grabbing for clothes to pull on.
Plain white panties, no money for anything fancier. No need for a bra, she wasn't exactly well-stacked. She just tugged on a tight undershirt. Then she pulled out her clean work clothes. Much like the set she was wearing last night: Red and white dress in the style of Shinto Priestesses. It took a bit of work to get it on right but she was so well practiced in it that the cigarette didn't fall from her lips once. Then she grabbed her brush and attacked her bedraggled hair. She had taken a shower last night so she wasn't dirty anymore, but her hair and tails took so much effort to keep nice...
A half-hearted brushing later and her blonde locks were looking okay and her tails weren't matted anymore. All three were somewhat fluffy and not hanging quite as sad. She pulled on her cigarette one last time and then put it out in the ash tray sitting on the counter. Her eyes fell to the futon on the floor. In days past she might have bothered cleaning it up and getting it properly put away in the closet. Leaving her apartment clean on her way out the door to work just didn't seem worth the effort. By the end of her shift, she'd be too tired to care and would likely just eat some take out before having a shower and falling back into bed again.
So instead she went to her kitchen counter and set about making a cup of instant coffee. It was hot and cheap but it filled a need and warmed her up a bit more. Once that was done, she leaned down and pulled the wet clothes out of the washing machine. Last night's work clothes would need to hang dry for tomorrow and the weather report still wasn't nice enough to allow her to put them outside her window yet. So she strung them up above her tub and left them there to dry.
Her morning ritual largely complete, Ishiko slipped her phone, wallet, and cigarettes into the hidden interior pockets of her outfit. Then she pulled on her shoes and wrapped up in her winter coat before heading out the door. Her work was a little more than a half hour walk away and she spent it fascinating about the different ways she might die before getting there. Her favorite of late was someone rushing past and accidentally knocking her into the street in front of one of the bigger trucks as it rumbled past. To that end she had begun walking at the edge of the sidewalk in hopes someone might do it.
The cafe she worked at was a rather popular one in Itabashi. It was styled in rustic wood with plush bench seating around dimly lit private tables. All of the wait staff were dressed as though the place were a Shinto shrine and they acted the part with quiet, polite demeanors. The place was known for its simple, high quality food and a rather romantic atmosphere.
Naturally, a fox woman like Ishiko was immensely popular at such a place. The owner paid her well enough to be a waitress and a mascot for the place. Well enough. She snorted at the thought. Her apartment ate up most of her income, and her addictions took care of the rest. Smoking, drinking, and sometimes even a meal or two.
Ishiko pushed through the front door of the cafe with a tinkle of chimes. She looked around with a sigh. The other two waitresses were already here and in the process of tidying up the tables and floor. The cook stood over his prep table behind the counter and was rapidly chopping some vegetables.
"Morning Ishiko." One of waitresses said. Ishiko returned the greeting and set to helping them.
The morning passed just like any other day. Customers came and went. Ishiko shuffled about taking orders and bringing food to the tables. Things went exactly as they always did, boring and simple, until after lunch was over. Ishiko had stepped outside to have a smoke.
She was raising her lighter to the cigarette when something caught her eye and made her groan. That same foreigner from yesterday was walking down the street. From where she stood in front of the cafe, she could either let him see her or give up a few precious minutes of her smoke break to duck back inside. She settled on lighting the smoke and keeping her eyes down.
"Oh hey, it's you." The bad accent made her cringe again and she forced her face upward to frown at the man. She was technically still on shift so she couldn't say anything untoward or act too harsh. The man had stopped in front of her and smiled down at her, hands casually slung in his pockets. Today he had added a suit coat to his collared shirt and jeans.
