Mochi M A D N E S S [4/5]

Asher had just completed a reap order in LA. He had only gotten reap orders in the bustling city a few times before, and was always amazed and enthralled with the variety of people a cultures he found there. Being from the states, it was also rare that he got any orders outside of the country, meaning he relished these reap orders in culturally diverse areas even more. This time he'd been sent to cut the thread of an older chinese man living in Little Tokyo. The man was far too old to be doing physically intensive labor such as lifting heavy boxes, and he had an unfortunate accident of losing his balance and stumbling into a tower of heavy crates. It saddened Asher, but he knew the man would be far better off to ascend than to live the rest of his life paralyzed after having been crushed.

The job had been quick, and Asher's chrysanthemum was still fresh enough that he could afford himself a little free time to wander this new part of LA. He was fascinated by the little trinkets and colorful foreign bobbles, the bright, big eyed characters and the strange language of Japanese. Being an apprentice, he could pick out words and phrases in the language, despite having never studied Japanese, but for the most part the language was still pretty foreign to him. He was content for a while just roaming the streets, looking into little shops and nonchalantly spinning his butterfly knife and whistling some nonsensical tune, but soon he passed by a restaurant with extremely tempting smells wafting from it. Asher paused and looked up at the sign for the restaurant. In big, bright katakana it read "ミスターラーメン" with a smaller English sign on the side reading "Mister Ramen". Asher hesitated for a moment outside the restaurant, unsure of what the proper etiquette for this kind of food was, but his stomach growled as the scent of good food coming from the restaurant seemingly grew stronger.

It was break day, a self-proclaimed break day, one of the many perks of 'working' for himself for... years. He'd nearly lost count of the days passed, and the apprentices felled and time seemed to blend together. Days had the tendency to repeat themselves, if he let them, and these days turned into weeks, and those weeks into months of repeated action; go out, look for apprentices, kill them, bring food or clothing back for his homeless...
Well, friends was a loose term for them... they were much more like 'unofficial adoptees' to him. They were always grateful, however, and he was happy to bring whatever he could grab back with him, the homeless didn't seem to mind at all, and if they did they never voiced their opinion of it, even if a few of these items were speckled with blood, which was never questioned. 
Needless to say, he did his best to break up the monotony of it all, festivals, raves, clubs, and amusement parks were generally his vacation-ground, but mixing it up and going to new places was just vital, he didn't want his favorite past-times to fall into the same rut as his favorite job tended to, after all.

Little Tokyo was new to him, completely new. Mostly. He'd seen it before as he rode the train through the states, back and fourth between California and New York, with copious amounts of train hoping that he still needed maps and help from hobo's to get to the right destination, even after years of riding the discounted rails.
He'd never stopped to visit, though the kids that he'd see on the weekends with the fox ears, metal head-bands, and neon tails oddly called to him, he always rode right on past and hopped box cars without too much of a second thought. 
Not today. 

Moccasin'd feet carried him through the buildings, with a pause every now and again to window shop for things he likely would never buy, before he carried on, the smell of food capturing his attention over the bright robes displayed on mannequins. 
The warmth hit him and pulled him the rest of the way through the shops, now not even bothering to glance at what passed him, before he saw just what may have been smelling so good. 
Ramen shops. Two, to be precise, one considerably more busy than the other which seemed odd that the slower shop would be still open with such fierce competition next door. Perhaps it was just a bad day for the Mr. Ramen shop. 

The native froze a bit before he got a step closer to the shop and took note of the lingering sun-kissed man hovering outside the shop, seemingly mesmerized by the sign. He was tall, not overly muscular though he wasn't a scrawny thing, with ripped up clothes to boot. Sendeh raised a brow and with a smile and continued walking forward into the shop, and didn't dare turn his face to give the lingering man any indication that he'd been seen.