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Post by Matsuzaki Kazuo on Jan 27, 2017 18:03:17 GMT
Who'd have thunk that Kazuo would be here so soon. Besides anyone that knew him. His parents had already prepared for something like this when they sent him off, even if they wouldn't be getting any updates from him. The academy had prepared too, keeping a bed open for him in preparation. Honestly, /anyone/ besides Kazuo could've guessed that he'd have ended up here in a matter of seconds. To him, this was an outrage. He'd never been forced to the infirmary back at his old place. He pushed shitters in here, shitters didn't push HIM here! He felt an anger bubbling inside of him as he laid on the infirmary bed, some wraps around his forehead, along with some paper stuffed up his nose. Not the most professional of treatments.
His head turned to stare at the curtain that had been pulled over so that his bed couldn't be seen to the outsiders. Not that anyone was at the infirmary today. Guess it was a quiet day. Or the people who were there were so quiet that Kazuo hadn't even heard a peep from them. He can't remember why he was here... Besides the aching on his forehead that tells many a tale. Maybe he got into a fight. Or he just got hit by some asshole. Or he ran into something and got knocked out. According to the nurse that had been there when he woke up, he hadn't attained any serious or lasting damage, despite the fact that his head rang louder than a gong in a stereotypical chinese flick.
"God dammit." He grumbled to himself and rose to sit up, only to feel a pang that made everything turn fuzzy. He had to get up and head back to his room and sleep. Like fuck he'd show weakness and stay here. He stood up, leaning against the wall as he slid the curtain wide open, staring around with a half-idiot look on his face.
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Post by Matsuzaki Kazuo on Jan 27, 2017 19:27:15 GMT
Was that a motherfucking giant. If LuWei was a deer in the headlights, he was another of her kin, staring very blandly at her. She was... Mind boggling. Mostly because of the size. Most of the girls Kazuo knew were slightly shorter than himself, or old but tall. To see someone so young be this tall felt like a movie that'd become reality, and honestly, the fact that he felt hazy didn't help the surprise one bit. He shook his head and grunted, the sudden buzzing and constant swinging of the room stopping for a second so that he could get a better look. Maybe he was just imagining the height difference, and
holy fucking shit she was RIPPED
So a huge ripped woman that looked like she was scared out of her wits for a second was staring right at him, okay. Maybe he was actually high on pain medicine and this was all some sort of sick fever dream his mind was putting him through to try and punish him for getting his head clobbered so hard. She looked foreign. A bit too tan to be Japanese, plus the facial features and all that shit, even if he wasn't able to gather it. That uniform was way too tiny. Jesus christ, if this girl punched him he'd probably die. And that was a strange thought to have about a girl. And /why/ did his mind instantly go to her punching him.
Kazuo took one careful step forwards the fearful amazon, shoe clacking against the floor. Why was he going this way, the exit was a whole different way. He blinks rapidly to try and get the damn colours right, each blink feeling like someone put those weird coloured sunglasses over his eyes. He took a few more steps, stumbling and leaning against the wall a little. His head felt like a disco, and honestly, he wished it'd die like disco did at this point. He coughs and looks up to the other.
"... Howdy."
What the hell was he doing. He should be leaving.
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Post by Matsuzaki Kazuo on Jan 29, 2017 11:56:39 GMT
Nursing student? My name ist? Maybe his brain was acting up a little, but was she speaking broken... Something? It felt like she was mixing up a shitton of languages into some strange pot, stirring it constantly to create this mongrel tongue she was speaking. Not that it was bad, it was almost charming in how... Broken and odd it could sound. Was that a mean thing to say, that someone's tongue sounded weird and broken? Maybe a little bit, especially to a girl. He'll need to word it better if she ever asks about how she talks. He fumbled over a few more steps and grabbed a seat, sitting down to stop the constant feeling of crawling, even if he had been walking.
He looked up to her, trying to reconstruct her question in his mind. "Why am I here..." He tries to think back. What /did/ happen? Did he get into a fight? It seems all blurry. He probably got pretty angry if he literally forgot what happened. He does feel a throng of pain coursing through his forehead again, so he lifts a few fingers up and pokes them against his forehead, wincing. "I'm thinking it was... Due to this. This, uh. I mean, shit. Due to getting a fuckin' headache. And that's because..." His speech is rambling, it drags a little, and there's some slurring, like if his tongue was glued to the bottom of his jaw. "I got hit on the head. I think."
Her skin tone reminded him of the gal's he had seen around town. Although she didn't really have the flashy style or the dyed hair, unless she was very low on the gal effort scale. Then again, most gals would modify their uniforms more, the only modifications she was doing was probably due to just the fact that the uniform was too small. Definitely a foreigner, had to be it. The mongrel tongue, the exotic look. But where could a girl like this be from? Maybe she was from USA?
He blinks his blue eyes rapidly and slowly shakes his head, causing the goatee to swing from side to side like a pendulum. "Ah, no thanks. I don't... Like candy." He cringes during the small pause. He picks at his dyed hair a little and tries to think. What was he going to do or say? Too hazy.
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Post by Matsuzaki Kazuo on Jan 29, 2017 21:55:05 GMT
Holy shit, did she just rip that cabinet's door open with her bare hands. He probably couldn't do that, maybe with a crowbar or something else, but she just latched onto the handles and pulled. Christ, she could probably crush his neck with one hand. The mind went to weird places when it was constantly crossing the wires to try and find the best way to hotwire his mind back to a good state. He blankly stared as she dug around for something to help his headache... Which was strange. Was he given meds before? He can't remember. If he was, those hadn't helped much. Maybe this girl knew her stuff better.
He took the two bottles she had given him, staring at the labels. English. He couldn't understand English very well yet when it came to reading, so this was like trying to pick your lifeline while blind. Placebo was shorter than Ibuprofen, so maybe it was a worse medicine? Ibuprofen sounded like a more powerful medicine too, now that he thought about it a little. But Placebo also sounded softer and safer to his headached mind. He wasn't dumb enough to take both at the same time, so he juggled on the matter for a while before popping open the bottle titled with Placebo, taking two pills and swallowing them without water. Woah, got a badass over here.
"Punked... Sneak..." A sudden pang. Maybe the medicine was working, or his mind had finally found that right circuit. He remembered a little. "I think I was. Headbutting a fist thrown at me. And then I... Just kinda flopped." Was that how it happened? Arena. Had to be arena, right? Or he had picked a fight somewhere else, with him, that was more than a possibility, it was an actual reality.
"Rev-- Wait, European butt? Oi, oi." He steadied himself to look at her, frowning. "I'm fuckin' Japanese." He was tempted to call her a dumbass, but she'd probably kill him. "And pretty proud of it too. Where's your, uh. Butt from." Ah, yes. Classic communication.
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Post by Matsuzaki Kazuo on Jan 30, 2017 10:37:05 GMT
"Flaming hair... Tch!" He grunted, although that seemed to not be from frustration, but from the feeling of the headache. It seemed to be lessening somewhat. Maybe this placebo medicine was working? Guess she knew her shit. Not that he was doubting at all, but it's hard to trust people at a place like this, especially when some teachers like to throw their wheelchairs at you. "It's dyed! Red's a colour I like. Although I guess this ended a lil' bit on the orange side, didn't it." He shakes his head and sighs in frustration. "Fuckin' whatever. It's enough to send a message."
Kazuo knew that most Japanese people didn't trust foreigners outright. Usually, there was either a dismissive coolness or a mocking interest. There was an American guy in his neighborhood when he was a little kid. Everyone was fascinated, but it felt a bit like watching a zoo animal, y'know? The guy never felt really like a part of the group, even if he did teach the kids English at school. Kazuo never really liked him, but that was mostly because he was one of the few teachers with the balls to try and stop him from beating kids up. But this girl... He did agree with the fascination some Japanese had for foreigners. A past like that. And just... A person like this. Hm.
"Sounds like a rough kind of living. I like that." He leans back in his seat and rests a hand on his jaw. It feels a little stiff, now that he gets a good feel of it. Maybe it got beat too. "Matsuzaki Kazuo." He takes a second to think, and then coughs. "Or, well, y'an call me Kazuo. That's the first name. Ain't expecting ya to work like how... People here work." Asking her to try and call him by his surname felt like a lost effort anyways, but maybe that was a bit rude to think. Not that he cared. "Yep. Seventeen years old. Got here for beating up three kids. Would do it again. Fuckers deserved it anyways."
Kazuo then looks over to the amazon once more, cocking a brow. He's dyed those too. Can't give him an F for effort, at least. "And what about you, huh? You look like y'could do some massive damage. How'd you get in this little slice of paradise."
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Post by Matsuzaki Kazuo on Jan 30, 2017 12:57:20 GMT
"Eh? Like an instrument?" He tries to think back on any instruments he's heard about that start with a K, but he can't remember any for the life of him. Or, well, maybe... K? K. He'll need to think about this just an itty bitty more later on. "If ya say so. I'm not all that into name meaning, but the way my name's written could be read as peace man." He snorts at the thought. His dad was a real wordsmith. "'Though it could also mean one husband, along with a few other meanings I can't be assed to remember. Words don't mean shit anyways, unless you can back 'em up with a nice punch to the face."
"Sixteen? Ninth..." Huh. That seemed a bit off. But maybe the grade systems worked differently in. Wherever she had been going to school last. He wouldn't question it any further. "But hell yeah! Kicking ass is in my blood. I've always been of the mind that ya can't get anything done unless you force your fists to do it." That and he just likes to hit things, but he's fairly sure almost everyone loves to hit things. It's therapeutic, releasing anger in such an explosive fashion. Dad wouldn't be a pussy if he just punched hard enough.
His brow raised more and more with each crime she listed, though. She had done that? And that? And that? AND THAT?! Jesus. Suddenly he felt like his pride and joy of beating a few guys was sent to the bottom of the bit compared to this girl and the shit she had done. His face muffled into a frown, although he tried his best to control it. "Damn. I'm a little bit jealous, honestly. Someone like ya being here... I feel like small fuckin' fry already, just when I thought I was one of the tougher kids on the block." He leans back in his seat, haze slowly lifting. "Guess that just shows how serious this place is."
Despite those words, he grows a grin. "Not that I'm gonna let the seriousness of this place change me. They say this place's gonna make us fitting members of society or whatever, but I'm just gonna flip them the bird and tell them to shove it. I ain't gonna change for anyone but myself, and I'm pretty damn comfortable being like this." He let out a guttural cackle of sorts. He loved talking big about himself, especially when he felt like he couldn't be brought down a peg.
"What about ya?" Lazy glance to the side. "You gonna let yourself get changed?"
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Post by Matsuzaki Kazuo on Jan 30, 2017 14:22:39 GMT
He was glad to see he could inspire. Usually, he didn't bother being social. But he could be an inspiring person, even a leader... If he bothered to talk more. Usually, he enjoyed being antisocial or running his mouth to try and ensure a fight would happen. But, this was one of the few situations where he could run his mouth for an inspiring cause. Even if it'd lead to bad results. He flinched a little when she suddenly leaped up. Christ, he got a little spooked there. He isn't this jumpy usually, god dammit. His headache is fucking with him even when it's disappearing.
He stands up soon after she does, nodding with a cocky grin. Hell yeah, she had a point! Why should he be lying down, why should he be waiting for meds to kick in?! He's Kazuo Goddamn Matsuzaki, and he's gonna be fine no matter what! "Hell yeah! That's the spirit. A little punch to the head ain't gonna keep me down!" He felt rejuvinated a little, although that was probably the few sparks of anger in his head igniting, setting up that red filter in his eyes. Yet, it wasn't a violent kind of anger. A motivational sort, almost. Something that got you off your ass and to work, if that made sense.
"Let's get going!" And so, he takes a few steps. And then it all goes wobbly again. He blinks and leans against the wall, grunting. Shit, shit shit! Guess that medicine was just kicking in because he was actually trying to stay still. He grunts and takes another few steps, pushing himself away from the wall. Gotta be strong. More steps. He'll make it, he'll make it, he'll
He's fallen, and he can't get up. Dammit.
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Post by Matsuzaki Kazuo on Jan 31, 2017 11:16:28 GMT
He felt like a little rodent captured by a mighty eagle when that hand sunk into his back, taking a hold of his jacket. He yelped a little, that feeling of being captured only increasing when his limbs dangled out a little due to being lifted up, hanging there as he was moved along to the bed, covered up and laid down in an almost surprisingly gentle fashion. Guess even giants could be a little nice.
"Tch. I guess you've got a point, but you don't need to try and coddle me like a god damn baby, I'm fine-" And then he's quieted down by a lollipop. He grumbles and removes it from his mouth, glaring at it and placing it away for now. Candy's never been his thing. Mostly due to a... Bad childhood experience. But, he might just enjoy this one at a later date. But for now, he had to look tough. Or try to, although that was proving hard. She was trying to be helpful. Acting scowly towards that was tough.
"I'll rest up, but I'm not a fuckin' loser." He pouts and glares to the other direction as she left. Maybe he could just try and stumble away when she left, although. Maybe she'd come by to check later? That would be a bad idea then, she'd probably punch him in the face and drag him right back to bed! Or she'd get sad. Girls being sad was no good. It'd stain his honour as a man to even make one cry. Every time he's done that he's felt like shit for a day or two, and he hates that feeling way too much.
His brow raised when she came back, letting out a little oof at the slap of the paper against his chest. He stared at the slip and ripped it off, eyeing the numbers. They danced a little in his eyes, but he got the basic gist of it. "Ah... Uh, yeah. We can do that. Thanks." He blandly stares at the paper and then her before then shoving it into his pocket. It'll be safe there. He's never really got anyone's number before, besides his parents numbers. Friends come in low qualities and quantities when you're a delinquent.
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