Quoted By:
First part of my take on the autistic onion for you fellow writefags. I just couldn't get the idea out of my head, so it was either writing it down, or taking meds - and we all know that nobody around here takes meds. Will be slow-burn / wholesome. Hope you enjoy regardless!
------------------------------
You absent mindedly scroll on your cellphone as you wait in line at the registry of some ordinary convenience store somewhere in Tokyo. Despite it being a rainy evening, you had decided to get off the subway a stop earlier to grab something for dinner on your way home from work.
You worked an ordinary job, nothing that would get you impressed looks from anyone, but it was good enough to pay the bills and you found the tasks fulfilling enough. The company had even given you the possibility to transfer to their branch in Japan a few years ago, so you did get to live in the country that you had fawned over ever since your youth.
Not a bad lot in life, you think.
As some time passes and the line still does not move, you look up from your phone. There is only one woman in front of you. She is young looking and rather small in stature, wearing a navy blue basecap, dark leggings and an almost comically large grey hoodie. The thing that catches your eye the most though, is her hair; pink with light blue strands poking out from under the cap in long, curling twin-tails.
You look from her to the registry and as far as you can tell, she has already paid for her goods. Somehow, she still does not move to pick the items up from the tray. Instead, the woman looks at them with a hesitant, almost troubled look. You raise your eyebrows in wonder, not really getting what keeps her from leaving.
“Have a nice daaaay…” The cashier now calls out in a strained voice, trying to send a not-so-subtle signal to the girl holding up the line.
She realizes her faux pas and hastily begins to move. To your surprise, she grabs the hem of her hoodie near the belly and loads her groceries into the makeshift pouch created there. You have no idea why she does not simply ask for a bag. They are even free in this store. The pink-haired woman mumbles an almost inaudible apology, awkwardly cradling the groceries in her hoodie, before hasting out of the store, leaving both you and the cashier equally bewildered.
You quickly shake off your thoughts and proceed to pay for your dinner – some fried chicken, a bento box with rice and vegetables and bag of your favorite snack as dessert. You also ask for a bag, which the cashier gives to you with a knowing smirk, which you reciprocate half-heartedly.
As you leave the store, you cannot keep yourself from muttering a short curse in your native tongue. The rain from before still had not let up in the slightest – it seemed worse, in fact. You reach for your umbrella and open it, before you continue on your way home.
After not even a minute of walking, you spot a familiar looking woman a bit further ahead. It is the bag-less hoodie girl from the convenience store, hiding from the rain under the canopy of a small shop. From the direction she is looking, it seems like she is waiting for a nearby traffic light to turn green. You continue to observe the scene as you progress towards her.
As the traffic light turns green, the pink-haired girl begins to jog, undoubtedly with the intention to escape from the ongoing downpour as fast as possible. Unfortunately, she takes about five steps before she stumbles, and you cannot help but wince as she comes crashing to the ground, unceremoniously spilling all items she was carrying over the sidewalk.
