Nanashi
The sound of the tires rolling along the pavement was the only sound as Nanashi road on her bike. She was almost standing as she pedaled away. She had since changed her outfit, switching it out for the spare she had in the bag she carried on her back. It was a soft jacket, kept closed by a cloth belt, along with black stockings and her high black boots.
She quickly readjusted her glasses as she road. Her face was the picture of annoyance and exhaustion compressed into one, her eyes were dropping, her mouth was in a scowl, and her ears were patted down.
She slowed down, as she saw a sign to a bar. Coming to a stop she complicated it, before deciding. Getting off her bike she used the bike chain in her backpack to lock it to a nearby fence, before making her way inside, “I hope you’re open.” She spoke out in a dreary voice as she opened the door.
There were only two people, a woman in a kimono, and a man dressed as a priest, a notebook in his hand. They seemed to be talking about something, not that she cared about what. Her sharp yellow eyes looked around the room. A dojo, that’s what it reminded her of. If you took out the table, bar, and the other seemingly out of place objects that made it into a functional bar, that’s what she would say it was.
Well, whatever.
She simply walked up to the bar and sat down, a couple of chairs away from the priest. Taking some money out and put it on the counter. “Anything you have to eat, preferably beef, rare, if you have it, and a strong drink, surprise me.”
Then she put her head down, laying it on the counter, letting herself relax a bit.