Kuroda Hiroji, the bartender of the "Last Hope" bar looked up from where he was polishing a glass as he heard the sound of the door opening above the muttered conversations from the dozen or so individuals already there.
It wasn't all that much of a bar, really - he had "inherited" it one day about ten or eleven years ago when he had come in for a lunch-time drink or two after getting fired from the security/watchman service he had been working at... for drinking on the job (it was only a bit - something to keep him warm during the chilly nights, but his boss didn't see it that way).
The previous owner had rushed over, tossed a packet of papers and deeds at him and the keys, and took off with a heavy briefcase, never to be seen again.
Of course, the three thugs that burst in shortly after, asking after the guy who had stolen some jewelry and money from them probably had something to do with it.
Anyways, he had shrugged, pointed them vaguing down the street, and decided that it was fate. After all, he HAD learned quite a bit about mixing drinks and bartending as an aside in high school and college, and knew the rudiments of an obscure form of Choy Li Fut (a kind of drunken boxing), so he knew how to run such a business and could deal with rowdy drunks.
So, that evening he had opening up the bar, kept the odd name, and since then, had done quite well for himself. The bar had a nice, almost 'cozy', atmosphere and was usually pretty quiet.
Perhaps it was the name, or merely coincidence, that brought the clientele. Most were seeking to drown their sorrows, whether in romances, careers and ambitions, or personal disasters.
There was rarely any trouble - maybe once every couple of weeks he might have to escort someone out or diffuse a fight. The last time was maybe eight... nine days ago. It had seemed that two guys had been fighting over a girl, only to learn that she had run off with a third guy. Both had elected to blot the memory out, and had both done so at the "Last Hope"...
Well, he had had to grab them both in head locks and dunk 'em a few times in the water barrel by the bar before they would stop going at each other - they had blamed each other, apparently. By the time the night was over, they had departed arm-in-arm and singing (off-key) a song in english about a girl who lived above a pawnshop, or something like that.
He didn't really mind the sometimes gloomy atmosphere any more, either. He figured, philosophically, that since fate had led him to this job, that he was here to help people cope with the things that life tossed at them. He'd gotten pretty good at identifying people and their various problems, and knew how to listen to them. He even had learned how to spout wise-sounding platitudes that, while vague, actually seemed to help the wrecks that shambled in here every day. At least, they seemed to cheer them up.
Take the young man who had just walked in the door. He'd guess his age at about seventeen, maybe a young eighteen. Looked to be in excellent shape, and moved fairly smoothly - probably took martial arts for a few years. It was raining outside (it seemed to do that a lot around here... kind of odd, now that he thought about it...), and the boy was drenched. Judging by his slumped posture and general lack of attention, he didn't really care about it.
The age and general aura of deep angst pointed towards girl trouble - or a death in the family. Probably the former, as someone of that age would probably be with remaining family in the case of the latter.
He noticed that he flinched when he almost walked into a woman at the bar. Yep.
As the boy passed couple of the regulars - both fairly young women - drinking and talking together, he flinched harder.
Oh, yeah. Probably found out his girlfriend - too young to be married, most likely - didn't like boys at all. That's going to be hard on his ego. Probably going to want something strong, and lots of it.
Hiroji shrugged and racked the glass before turning to his newest customer.
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(Posted Sun, 02 Mar 2003 10:49)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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