Oishi Catering Services, Day One

Amy recoiled from Aoi's touch. "You're a revolting human being," Amy replied sweetly, matching Aoi's cloying tone of voice. But Amy did feel a small spark of triumph. Aoi had taken the hint, and she was vacating the table. Given a few minutes to forget the past five, Amy might even go back to enjoying her lunch.

...Well, no that might be a little optimistic. But she'd certainly have a better time eating than if the bitch had stuck around. Amy fiddled with her chopsticks impatiently. Aoi couldn't leave fast enough.

"Nn."

Aoi paused as Amy spoke. The girl was probably just jealous. Aoi could have any guy she wanted. She was basically idolized and had success without even having to train much. No doubt Amy was someone who needed to go the extra mile just to keep pace and was probably still a virgin.

Very casually, Aoi turned what was left of her temura chicken and rice over onto Amy's head, leaving the container to sit like a hat. She then tilted her water and let it spill into Amy's lap.

"Oops."

Aoi walked off without another word, carefully depositing her water bottle in the trash receptacle and not looking back.

Five more steps. Just five more steps, and Aoi would step beyond the edge of her perception. From there she’d disappear completely from existence, swallowed back into the writhing mass of faceless cafeteria patrons from whence she came. Their encounter would become an unfortunate and unpleasant blemish on what should have been a glorious lunch... but nothing more than that, and that was something that Amy could live with. Come on, come on. 4 more. 3. 2. ... …Oh give me a fucking break.

Amy didn’t bother to look. She didn’t have to; she could sense that Aoi had suspended her exit, pausing just behind Amy’s seat. What the hell did she want now?

Aoi pressed down on the top of Amy’s head, and Amy rolled her eyes. Of. Course. Amy chided herself for reacting so visibly when Aoi touched her shoulder. Doing whatever she wanted, then constructing a flimsy justification after the fact... delighting in the irritation she’d pulled out of Amy with her words… of course Aoi was going to touch her again if Amy indicated that she didn’t like it. Classic playground bully. What a little weasel. What a cunt.

But this new sensation instantly distinguished itself from its predecessor. There were two horrifying realizations: this feels too warm, and this feels too wet.

Amy whipped her head up in shock, and Aoi’s bowl flew from its perch. Its contents seemed to explode in starbursts as the bowl arced elegantly through the air, turning once… twice... three times before landing with a jarring clatter on the tile. The racket elicited a wave of turned heads and, if not a total silence, then certainly an expectant hush from their cafeteriamates, now audience. Mercifully, most of Aoi’s uneaten lunch had somehow managed to stay inside the bowl. Which is not to say that Amy had come away pristine; stubborn platoons of rice grains set up multiple camps in her hair, and stray tempura flakes created a soft halo on her crown. But anyone and everyone who was watching the scene unfold saw only the single, spectacular, sopping ball of soy-sauce imbued rice slipping slowly but surely down her bangs.

But Aoi wasn’t done. While Amy’s rage was peaking, Aoi’s bottle turned horizontal, and, as cold water pooled in Amy’s seat, that big ball of rice finally completed its leisurely journey across her scalp. Satisfied, it fell from her head and into her sodden lap.

plop!

Amy might have blacked out for a moment or two because, the next thing she remembered, she was on her feet and grabbing at Aoi's shirt with her left hand, her right clenched in what was going to be history’s most satisfying punch. Most of the wrestlers in the room- assholes- hooted and made catcalls, inciting and provoking. But three other, more levelheaded Tensioners stepped in between the two women before Amy could exact her revenge. “Back off!” she snarled. But the man and woman holding her back did not back off. She struggled but did not strike the strangers, and they were able to keep her at bay.

Aoi. on the other hand, was calm, and she was collected. The man who had taken it upon herself to restrain Aoi found that he had little to do, since she simply turned on her heel and departed, not even bothering to look back. She even had the presence of mind to recycle her plastic bottle.

Once Aoi was out of sight, the interlopers relented and let Amy go. One offered her a towel, which Amy snatched rudely. Fuming, she began to clean herself off, starting with her hair.

Amy wasn’t an activist; oral criticism was as far as Amy was initially going to go. But Aoi’s assault compounded all of Aoi’s sins in Amy’s eyes, and Amy decided that Aoi did as she pleased, consequence-free, for too damn long. There needed to be justice... and retribution. But mostly justice.

...Ah, who was she kidding? Anything she was about to do was going to be retaliatory, and Amy was totally fine with that.

Her fury died down, and a steely resolve sprung up in its place. She was calm enough to thank the wrestlers who stepped in for their towel. They allowed her to keep it, so she wrapped it around her waist before she made her way out to the locker rooms to shower. As she was leaving the cafeteria, a group of humorless, uniformed men caught her eye- janitors. Amy bowed as a means of apology, but they waved her off without a word. Actually, they were surprised that it took this long for a fight to break out, since the wrestlers they were paid to clean up after were basically children. Once Amy had vacated the area, they grabbed their mops and wheeled their cart into the room with world-weary sighs; just another day in the life.