Making Ends Meet [Work] (Complete!)

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

-Thock-

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*BEEP BEEP BEEP BE-*

-Thock-

"...mmmrrrrmm...!"

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...*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

"...mmnraygh... Shut up, shut up, I'm awake."

A blanketed form reluctantly rose from the sheets with groggy moaning, shambling to life within the inky black of the dark motel room. Running a hand through her disheveled mane, the lithe figure swung its feet from the messy bed to the shag below. Ritz slowly, groggily sit up in her bed, resting her elbows on her knees. Sighing deeply, eyes half open, the grip of sleep refused to release her to the rest of her day. Ritz contemplated saying "fuck it all" and going back to bed. The mental fog and her sore muscles certainly lent credence to that. That is, until she took a look at her alarm clock. Flashing lights of 12:02 blinked soft red light across her tired face.

"...Shit!"

Grumbling curses under her breath and making an attempt to shake away her fatigue, the exhausted young woman stumbled her way toward her duffel bag in the corner. No time to iron, she made a swift judgement call on what shirt and what pants looked the least wrinkled, found a pair of semi-matching socks, and began throwing on her clothes in the dark. Thank God she showered when she got home from the bar. Blinding herself from the light of the bathroom, Ritsuko invoked a most sacred and ancient art, handed down from procrastinator to procrastinator since time memorial... Brushing your teeth and hair at the same time.

She winced and yelped as her unruly hair came out in bunches with a mouthful of toothpaste. Sometimes she thought of cutting her hair short but... no. The scars would show through too easily. Teeth brushed, deodorant applied, and hair somewhat presentable, Ritsuko took one last look at herself in the mirror. ...she looked like a server at some 3-star restaurant. Whatever, it was only for a few hours at least. Grabbing her phone, cigarettes, wallet, and guitar case, Ritsuko sprinted out of her dark abode and into the sunlight, allowing her room to slam shut behind her. Fuck cleaning up. Always time to do that shit when she wasn't about to get fired. She flipped the cover of her phone up as she hustled out the door. 12:09. Six minutes to get to work.

Guitar bouncing along her back, lengthy raven hair flowing behind her, the irresponsible adult cut through the swarms of people leaving work seeking lunch. Bastards. Her guitar was unwieldy enough as it is without having to force her way through a crowd. The strap dug into her shoulder with a familiar weight, tugging at every passerby, pulling at every catch of the shoulder. Wordlessly, Ritz pushed her way through the endless stream of people at a quick jog, mouth dry, stomach crying in frustration. Every crosswalk she'd miss was infuriating, and it seemed like she missed nearly all of them. Every clique she'd need to separate just another nuisance. It was as if the world itself didn't want her to get to work on time. But onward she pressed. She really didn't have a choice in the matter. The alternative was the gutter. Not a nice place to be.

After all the hassle, rush, weezing and out of breath, Ritsuko had finally found her way to the Shimaki Cleaners and Tailors shop. It wasn't too far away from where she lived, that not terribly far away from Vista Square center. The faded, slightly rusted sign stood out in a pale yellow with stylized print in English and Japanese Kanji, with a worn blue and white striped sun shade hanging over the front door and window that ran concrete to ceiling. The building was whitewashed with stains from the rain, although not for lack of funds to paint it with. Ritz bet that old crone Chitose made cash hand over fist. The location was too good, right near the Seven Stars Academy with all their student uniforms, the SMILE News Studio and their dry-clean only suits, and the cadets seemed to favor it as well for alterations to their own dress. Feeling a lump form in the pit of her stomach, Ritz hesitantly reached into her pocket and produced her cell phone.

12:18

Ssssshit! Ritsuko's heart began to pound violently in her chest, it too understanding what this meant. She was late. Horribly and incredibly late. The old hag was already fed up with her antics and she was late three days ago already. Ritz new that she was about to receive a pretty violent ass chewing. She took a deep breath, trying to steel herself for the inevitable. It was no big deal. Chitose-sama would scream at her and whip her with the fan, Kiri-san would laugh, Ritsuko would tell Kiri-san to mind her own fucking business, Kiri-san would act shock, and Chitose-sama would yell at her and hit her with the fan again. Ad nauseum until the alcoholic would return to the back to let out jackets and patch up seams in trousers.

This ain't shit. I'm in control. I can always get another job, street performing can net me a couple more days, at least. I mean, I don't wanna get fired... but I don't need it. Nope! TOTALLY fine without the stuck-up old bitch's verbal abuse and Kiri's stupid laugh.

...who am I kidding I'm fuckin' screwed.

The chiming of the bell signaled the spiteful woman's late arrival. Damn bell... Before the glass door had a chance to bang shut, a small old lady was standing before her. Really small. Ritsuko was five feet, four inches and this lady was tiny. Atop her head sat grey, coifed hair rolled into a tight bun held in place by numerous alligator clips. Her mottled face was splotchy and jaundiced, wrinkles dragged down by the weight of what Ritsuko could only imagine were dozens of shinnigami trying to claw her back from whence whatever dark ichor she was born of. Her cheeks sagged like an English bulldog's, half-moon spectacles sitting on her upturned nose. And her faded gray eyes were afixed squarely on Ritsuko.

"You're late!" Chitose barked in angry Japanese, causing her to jump in surprise. "This is the third time in two weeks, do you want to work here or not!?" Here tiny, pruned hands pressed firmly into her hips. Even at her short stature, her presence toward over that of Ritz. The jaded young woman gave a deep bow.
"I-I appologize Chitose-sama! It won't happen again, I swear!"
"Harumph! That's what you said the last time, and the time before that!" The short elder woman would take a folding fan from her apron pocket and smack Ritsuko across the top of the head with it, causing her to wince and shiver.
"You're lazy, you're disrespectful, and you don't take pride in your work! Aya, what is wrong with youth these days? When I was your age, I would be more than happy to work for half of what I'm paying you! No complaints, no backtalk, I would take home my five hundred yen a week and be happy for the privilege!"
"Y-Yes mama-san!" Ritsuko shuddered once more as the fan collided with the back of her bowed head, feeling uncomfortably chagrined and furious both at once.
"Don't you dare call me that! You do not rate the privilege! When you can do the minimum of showing up for work on time and grateful to be here, let alone to show the dedication your senpai shows to this job, then and only then may you call me mama-san! Do you understand?!"

Ritsuko flinched when the paper fan snapped across her scalp again, a lump forming in her throat. It didn't hurt as much as most people were led to believe, but it was humiliating and that was the point. A cackling snicker came from the cluttered corner of Shimaki Cleaners, eliciting a threatening glare from the shamed delinquent. Kiri had stopped her work on sewing the rank insignia to a Cadet's service coat to prop her slender elbow up on the sewing table and gaze smugly at Ritz with her almond, chestnut eyes, a grin curling at her lips. The paper fan once more collided with the top of Ritz's head, causing her to jump in surprise.
"Answer my question, Zayasu! You are dealing with me right now, not her!"
"Y-Yes Chitose-sama! I understand! I'll work harder...!" came Ritsuko's exasperated reply. The old shrew held her cradled her fan in crossed arms, looking the delinquent up and down.
"Hmm. No you won't. Now get back there and get to work. More Cadets have been fielded for duty and Kiri's working on tailoring their uniforms, you're doing everything else. Don't mess this up, I can't afford to hire anyone else for this which is why you aren't getting fired today. Hop to it."
"Y... yes Chitose-sama..."

Ritsuko unbowed her head and brushed past the cantankerous crone with gliding steps. She was eager to get to work now, at least. Not because she wanted to work, of course. Anything that got her away from the two she-devils was welcome in her book. She rubbed her tender head with her hand as she hurried toward the back, grabbing her apron from the coat rack as she sought asylum from her sorry working conditions. But she had to pass by Kiri first.
"Y'know, you could do really well here if you'd only show up on time and kept that venomous attitude in check..." the slender woman goaded. As always, Ritz chose to respond to Kiri in sign language: an extended arm with a raised middle finger. Her coworker grimaced, gasping in a dramatic fashion that honestly wasn't really warranted considering this happened every other day.
"...! Start showing some respect you vicious little delinquent!" she would bark. And Ritsuko would pass her by with a sarcastic smile and false friendly wave. Until she was met by a familiar rap on the back of her skull. Turning swiftly with a stunned grimace, the young musician found Chitose across the room still. And the paper fan on the floor at her feet.

Holy shit, she sniped me from all the way over there...?!

"Now what did I tell you about treating your senpai the way she should be treated!?" the small harpy screeched at the delinquent musician. Ritsuko continued to rub the back of her head in shock.
"I...! I dunno, she just started yelling at me!" It was a lie, of course. A bad one at that.
"I did no such thing!" the slender woman would gasp, pressing a dainty hand to her chest with a shocked expression. What a fuckin' drama queen.
"I don't want to hear any of it! Zayasu, I watched you make that rude gesture, now you apologize to Kiri-san or you'll be looking for a job!" Ritz's mouth fell agape as she gestured to the stuck-up princess.
"But she-!"
"Zayasu. Now. Or you're fired." Chitose's voice was even and purposeful, causing the delinquent's heart to skip a beat. That was her serious voice. She wasn't fucking around any longer, Ritz might be out of a job if she didn't do as told. Hesitantly she turned to the once shocked now smiling vanity queen. A lump formed in her throat that try as she might, she couldn't choke down. She wanted to cry, but then her co-workers would eat her alive. She couldn't show any weakness around them, none at all. Ritsuko wrang her apron in her hands to keep her fingers from wrapping around Kiri's throat and squeezing 'til the bitch turned blue, and she gave a slight bow.
"G-Gomenasai Senpai..." she relented with a shaky voice of fear. Fear hiding rage.
"I don't think I can accept that apology, Ris-san, I've been very offended you see," her coworker cooed with a venomous smile, words dripping with vitriol, "I had to be rude, buuuuuut... could you bow just a bit deeper, please?"

The musician's eyes held fire as she ground her teeth, trembling with fury. Chitose said nothing. She was gonna let this happen. And Ritz would have to do it if she wanted to keep her job. A few things flew her mind. She could bow and then leave to the steam-press in the back to cry and be alone. She could run out the door and flee back to her room to finish her gin from the other day. She could lay the two-faced bitch the fuck out and throw her sewing machine out the window. Whatever was in store was gonna be a ride alright...

And then the bell chimed. Just as two-faced as Kiri was, the shrew of a woman spun on her heels to give their newest customer, a well-to-do businessman of sorts, a warm and cheery smile.
"Hello, welcome! What do you need today?" she would chirp in heavily-accented English. Thank God for that. One of the few reasons Ritz was able to hold down this job was because she was Japanese and spoke the language.

Damn bell's good for somethin', I guess.

It was the young alcoholic's turn to grin smugly at the bewildered tailoress before she received a scowl in return.
"Don't think this is over, Ris. You're still a delinquent, I've honestly no idea why Chitose-same keeps you around."
"And you're still a phony bitch," Ritsuko would laugh, Kiri's lips pursing at the insult. "Forgive and forget, right Senpai?" With a wave of her hand, feeling smug, the miserable loner would shuttle away to her dark corner of Shimaki Cleaner's to get started. The sooner she was doing things the sooner her witch of a boss would stop leaping down her throat.

Safe in her inconspicuous corner of the alteration's shop, the irresponsible adult would breathe a sigh of relief. It was all so tedious and draining day in and day out. If it would be possible Ritsuko would leave everything behind to play on the street, jumping from hostel to hostel, pulling up chalks whenever it was convenient. The fame wasn't what she was after, and the money, while nice, wasn't worth the trouble. A life without ties, without a past to run from, where it never mattered who she was or what she said or what she was doing with herself. Where she was free to set anything down for good at the drop of a pick. That was the life she wanted. But that wasn't possible in the world the way it was. The system was rigged against her that way.

Tying on her apron, stuffing her unruly hair under a handkerchief and tucking the length of it down the back of her blouse, Ritsuko would get to work. Her long hair was a major liability in her profession and the only thing that made her ever consider cutting it shorter. The fear of getting your hair caught in a sewing machine was very real and frightening. Or having it lay in the steam press on accident. She would dig through her guitar case for her music player to further isolate herself from her toxic work environment, setting the headphones over her ears and setting her fingers to needle and cloth.

Bad Mood Music:

Once she had set her mind to her task everything would melt away. That was the one thing she liked about Shimaki Cleaner's. When she finally set down to work she could be alone most of the time and could spend hours that way in a trance. Still didn't look forward to it. Her fingers ran nimbly through jackets and coats, letting out some, tightening others, bringing out the shoulders, you name it if the order slip called for it. Another reason why Ritsuko was hired: her dexterous hands. She could work more than twice as fast as Kiri with almost the same quality. Quick hands were part of her trade on both fronts, needed'em for guitar, just as good with thread. Though Chitose liked to be a world-class nag, the truth was she threw Ritz a lot of work. She could perform the most turnarounds in an afternoon, enough so that it started to become advertising. Drop off your slacks at two, come back at four and they were set to go. Though most work like that wasn't in demand at the moment. The majority of it came from the government puppets who had to look prim and poised for Ms. Dictatorship. Kiri was in charge of that. Ritsuko didn't mind at all. It was more work than she personally had to do with all other items combined, it was monotonous enough to warrant deviant thoughts involving her eye and the sewing needle, and if it wasn't absolutely flawless they'd come back and she'd get yelled at and then work would suck extra hard.

And then the music stopped, giving way to the harsh silenced interspersed with light commotion and a piercing shriek of a laugh. The loner flinched and nearly sent her needle through the dainty hand that tore her universe asunder. A round face with malicious eyes and a venomous curling smile gazed down at Ritz. Fury and outrage leered straight back with a scowl.
"Oh Riiiiiis-chaaaaaan~" sang Kiri in a sickeningly sweet voice. It made her wish she actually followed through on the decision to stab the icy bitch. Ris-chan wasn't a nice name for Ritsuko. It reminded her of the labs... of being alone for days on end in confinement, dreading the return of her abusers... of all the drugs they'd fill her with to force emotions on her, just to "see what would happen"... of all the psychological torture they put her through to get a rise out of her and the test results they wanted, and the physical beatings they called "technical field application training". The delinquent answered back by shivering in anger, gnarling the fabric of the suit jacket she had been working on under her tensed fingers imagining it as Kiri's windpipe.

"...Yes, Senpai...?" Ritz growled through gritted teeth, deftly sliding her needle point first into the tabletop. A bat habit, it'd dull the point for sure, but it was better than staining it with the blood of a bitch that was icier than she was.
"You should really let me teach you the Government regulations on Cadet uniforms. It's such a useful code every tailor should know! It'll expand your horizons and let you earn more moooon-eeeeeey~" Ritsuko would've smirked if she weren't so ready to leap over the table and break the lady's upturned nose. Her expression was so sly and demure... she really thought she was being clever. Unfortunately for her, just because the delinquent didn't get a proper education didn't make her a fucking idiot.
"I'll pass," she dismissed gruffly, plucking her needle from the table to spin it between her fingers a few times before finding the proper grip to get back to work.
"...you know I'm your senpai, right? And you should do as I say?" Ritsuko stopped, taking both hands off her garment and sighed a loud, audible grumble. So it was gonna be like this, huh?
"Stop what you're doing and come learn Cadet fit and rank placement Ris-chan, you don't want to upset mama-san now do you?"
"How 'bout you shut your mouth and get back to work, if you don't want to piss her off?" seethed the musician, balling and un-balling her fists. Kiri cackled frigidly. Ritz shook in anger.
"Why Ris-chan, who do you think told me to come teach you? Hee hee hee ha ha!" She threw her head back in her usual condescending mockery of laughter as the younger woman cocked her head.
"Yeah right..." she flippantly waved off, "I've got a job to do, you can't pawn that crap off on me, do your own work." Ritz set back to her own sewing assignment as Kiri glared at her. Did she honestly expect that to work? This wasn't the first time, and Chitose wasn't likely to change her mind when she gave her something to do. If either of them were going to get in trouble, it wasn't gonna be Ritz. Especially to save someone else's skin so they could screw around on their phone.

"...so why do you bring that guitar with you every day?" When she looked up Kiri had her elbow resting on her work table, propping up her bored face with the palm of her hand. Ritsuko pinched the bridge of her nose. She didn't need this shit today.
"I'm not gonna get any work done, am I?" she half-chuckled to herself.
"You didn't answer my question." Her tone was accusing, terse. The musician tried her best to make an attempt at hemming some cuffs while she played Kiri's stupid games.
"...I told you before, I have practice after this?"
"You say that every time, I think you're trying to be some famous rock star. Is your talent too big for us, little Ris-chan?"
"I don't give a fuck what you think."
"Heeeeee hee hee ha ha!" resounded Kiri's uproarious laughter once more, eliciting a hateful glare from the younger woman, "You're so crass, Ris-chan! Very un-ladylike. It's little wonder you can't find a boyfriend. Having had her fill of banter, Ritz's hateful expression dropped to an innocent one.
"Tell me Senpai, how many cocks do I have to suck before I become a lady like you? Maybe I should ask your ex-husband." You could hear a pin drop through the silence after Ritz spoke. It lasted nearly a minute before it was broken by the sound of a chair scraping across the wooden floor, the stuck-up woman's face frozen in a contorted mixture of fury and pure shock. Ritsuko wordlessly gathered a handful of clothing items and began heading toward the back of the store.
"Chitose-sama! I got all my turnarounds done, I'm pressin' steam!" she called out, giving Kiri a passing, scornful glance before swinging open the wooden door to the back room.

Alone. Fuckin'. Finally.

It was loud and lonely in the press room, just the way Ritz liked it. The noise blocked out the world beyond the door from distractions, most importantly the tense conversations of the old crone railing on her hemming a quarter of an inch too long or pointless girl talk about Kiri and her stupid offspring or all of her "boyfriends" that like to buy her things and take her out to fancy places on their dime. She hated their guts and the ground they walked on. Why couldn't they just let her do what they paid her to do and fucked off somewhere else? If Ritsuko would be allowed to work in any sort of relative peace without being harassed or gossiped to she might show a little initiative and come in on time. As it stood, she didn't feel like she had to put in any effort to pretend to care about a job she didn't enjoy with people she despised. But it kept the bills paid. It made her consider getting serious with her music career in order to do what she wanted whenever she felt like, to compose to her heart's desire and be paid for it in return. If only there weren't several problems with it. The loner was afraid of "selling out" and being forced to compose or play toward some sort of record deal or being censored of her voice. Or having to perform with a band of other selects that she didn't get along with. Or being too talented to take bass or backup and having to do lead guitar. Most importantly she didn't want the fame. Ritsuko couldn't give half a damn if she tried whether people enjoyed her music or not. It was her music, her message. If they didn't like it, tough shit. They didn't have to like what she said.

On top of that the fear of being discovered was all too real if a Cadet became suspicious while she was on stage. All it would take was one little slip up and the game was over. She and Aoide couldn't be separated for too long before things began to turn dark and dire, and if her belongings were confiscated it would spell disaster. She'd fight to the end before being subjected to that suffering again, it was a much quicker and more satisfying death. But she'd much rather hide until she could grab a foothold on Endymion, to track a lead on her captors. Ritz never had an official ID for that reason or lived somewhere that required one. Shimaki Cleaners only cared that she could sew and was Japanese. Effectively, she only existed as far as she told people. Anonymity was safety, but it would bite her in the ass ten times as hard if she were ever caught. Being illegal threw up red flags up and down the line. Taking a citizenship test cost money anyway, and it was terrifying to imagine it being some sort of trap for immigrants or being forced to go to 7 Stars and found out there. Being trapped like that wore thin. Ritsuko was resourceful enough, she'd always been creative like that, but any sort of option that presented to her was quickly shut down by reality.

Blank eyes lazily stared straight ahead as the outcast thumbed up the volume on her music player and set to her monotony.


Coat after coat was lain out before her, slacks and trousers and blouses folded neatly on their creases with gentle care before the hiss of hot jets caressed her skin with its intense warmth. It was dull, long work but at least she could do it without being interrupted. The time wrapped in her own head decompressing was worth the drudgery. She took the time to be a little lazy here and get her karmic "reward" from sewing so frantically to finish her owed turnarounds by chilling out some and working at her own pace. "Chill" being a figurative term, of course. It was so damn hot and humid back in the press room with the constant hot air jetting from the machine that you could probably soak a hot towel by leaving it hanging on a hook for a few minutes. Ritz was luckily accustomed to this type of environment already and took a long few gulps from her water bottle, grimacing. It was warm. Always was. But it'd keep her from passing out, and the sweating out the alcohol through her skin combined with forced hydration felt good for a change. She mused that spending her time walking everywhere with nearly twenty five pounds hanging on her shoulder and spending quite a lot of time in the "steam room" kept her so thin even with her drinking all the time and loading up her stomach with fast food trash. Which worked out in her favor well enough. Running could go fuck itself.

Ritsuko gave a satisfied gasp after downing most of her very un-satisfying water, wiping her brow with a hand. She felt sticky, uncomfortable, starting to get a little dehydrated, and exhausted, but it was infinitely preferable to being out in the front. The terrible twosome were just as happy to avoid the steam press bitchwork anyway, and Ritz was more than happy to oblige even if she had to do hard labor in a sauna for a few hours a day. The quiet was good, the isolation was better, and quite honestly she'd had fewer breakouts since she picked the job up. She hadn't really thought that "deep facial cleanse" would be a fringe benefit to working as a tailoress. The young adult allowed time to pass freely and unhindered in her humid little corner of the Earth until this moment, where she felt compelled to check her phone for the time.

4:46PM

Really? I didn't think I'd spend so much time back here, I just didn't feel like listening to Her Royal Ass-Kisser anymore. Hmm hmm, alright, just a quarter of an hour left and I'm out this hell hole!

Perhaps it was the alone time to recharge but even more likely that it was her payday, Ritsuko felt topped up with energy. There was no way in Hell Chitose would allow her to leave early though, and Ritz chose to dig into her guitar case rather than start a new task she wouldn't get very far in. From the polyester protector she pulled a few larger needles and wool. Knitting supplies. It didn't really fit her rocker persona, but the delinquent enjoyed creating things she could use. She could make a hat look however she wanted or a nice scarf without having to pay forty bucks for one at the mall. Fuck socks though. They were itchy as hell. Having finished her new cap a few nights ago a new project was in order, and her mind turned inward. Zavie, the little blonde boy from the bakery. Such a sweet little kid... Ritz didn't like getting something and not giving anything back, and it was gonna be cold soon. She figured that he might enjoy a toasty wool scarf and the poor artist already had an idea on what it'd look like. Baby blue, with tassels on the ends and some darker blue paw prints to give it a unique pattern without being too feminine for him. She wasn't able to get very far in fifteen minutes, but she got a decent start at least an inch in length and ten inches wide.

A loud pounding on the door signaled the release from her jailers/employers. Seems they didn't want to be in the heat. Big surprise there. Ritsuko saw to packing her things and slinging her guitar over her shoulder, receiving a chilling wind against her sweaty skin as she pushed open the back room door. Her boss and coworker were waiting for her tapping their feet nearly in unison. Ritz returned their impatience with a bored expression.
"I'm closing up for today, anything you don't have done is work for tomorrow," the ancient one snapped. The delinquent shrugged her shoulders.
"Alright..."
"And tomorrow you will show more respect for your co-workers," spoke Chitose, waving her paper fan in a vague threat.
"Yes Chitose-sama." Ritsuko's voice resounded neutrally and evenly. She just wanted to leave. And just as if she could sense it, her boss held out a manila envelope toward the young lady. Ritsuko walked calmly forward and gripped it between her callous fingers, opening the envelope and counting out every yen much to the loathsome gazes of her company. She didn't care. She wasn't gonna get fucked on her money because she felt like being polite. After counting and re-counting and ensuring all of it was there, Ritsuko gave a slight bow and walked past the two without a word. The bell chimed at her departure, resounding within the tiny shop. She was sure they were gonna talk shit for another ten minutes about her, but she wouldn't get fired. If that was gonna happen it would've happened weeks ago. She just wanted to get as far away from them as possible, both in body and in mind.