Plotted starter for @queenharumiura.
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King was... not having a good day. To explain, let's go back about... Twenty minutes prior. They had just gotten up for the day, lazy afternoon mornings were their favorite. They had gotten up, nuzzled and cuddled each of their cats, waved to Adriel as he was already up and watering his plants while he visited Japan... They even managed to blend up a smoothie drink! Cold fruits, specifically blueberries and raspberries, blended with cut up kale, and mixed with pomegranate juice and syrup, finished with the slightest bit of ice. The morning was truly a great morning. They picked up their bag, aiming to clean their sword this morning while enjoying a smoothie. Turning on their stereo, and having My Type by Saint Motel blaring out as they twirled to sit down in the living room, drink in hand. Only to feel their arm tug and immediately everything went silent. Almost reluctantly King looked up and was greeted with the unfortunate situation that they were no longer in their living room about to sit on the couch, but instead in the middle of a rather... sketchy looking meeting poised over an empty chair with someone behind it.
"[Shit- fuck]." The words came out in English first, habitual of hearing their mother swearing angrily in private over difficult to secure deals. This was... also quite the pickle. Quickly they switched over to Japanese. "Now, hold on gentlemen. I mean no harm-"
Someone shouted Spy! and King threw their drink, glass and all, at that person's face, clocking them clear in their nose, center face. Nervous hands gripped their backpack and they quickly stood from their half seated position. Feet bolted for the nearest door they could find, barrelling past and ducking around the now obviously enemies.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Could this get any worse? Wait, no. I take that back. It really really can't, nope, not at all. Not gonna doom myself! Let's just pretend I didn't just jinx myself with that!
King shoved past more doors, swinging them wide open, looking for any door that led directly outside. They were not dressed for this area, still in house slippers and in loose pajama pants with a tank top on, their clothes were not black suit attire that everyone else seemed to have on. So with every door, a new cluster would join those chasing them. Someone shouted something about mafiosa in Italian and another shouted famiglia in Italian, but they were still speaking primarily Japanese to each other? King was quickly figuring out where they had ended up. But what timeline? Past? Future? A fixed timeline, or a doomed one? They couldn't tell, and they really really didn't care right then, what mattered was getting outside. Their shoes kept getting caught and slipping, so they had to take off their shoes just to get the right traction on the ground. They burst out of the building and continued on a fast track running away. Bare feet hitting concrete hard, and house slippers dangling in their left hand. Their right hand reached for the steel baton tied to their backpack, their enemies hadn't used lethal force yet, so slicing them with a sword felt a bit excessive... While running, they were not looking forward, but instead glancing backwards repeatedly, trying to escape the shouting mafia men behind them.